Situations

Review: Last week’s stretch of the week was:  Make a point of being consciously humble in some way this week. Please allow ONE person to share her experience with this exercise for ONE minute.  Lesson #41 PIRKAY AVOS–ETHICS OF OUR FATHERS Repentance and Good Deeds Are Like A Shield Against Retribution T’shuva U’Ma’asim Tovim Ki’S’ris Bi’F’nay Ha’Pur’a’nus Perek Daled, Mishna Yud Gimmel Story:  (based on a true story) It had been an exceptionally bad six months for our family.  I hadn’t even realized it until I told my best friend that my oldest boy had just broken his arm playing football at school two weeks before his bar mitzva and she said, “Wow, this has been quite a year for you so far.”  I’d been too busy just trying to get through. This was our third limb injury since Rosh HaShana.  My middle daughter’s Crohns had been acting up and she’s been out of school a lot.  Two of my kids had teachers they didn’t jell with which brought us many phone calls home and made me afraid whenever the school’s phone number came up on Caller ID.  My oldest daughter couldn’t get geometry so I had to sit with her and her homework for hours a week when I was tired and ready to go to sleep.  My mother was bugging me to help a sibling who didn’t want my help.  And my husband had a new and difficult client at work so he often came home late and stressed.  All in all, it was a lot. I don’t like to ask myself, “Why is HaShem punishing us?”, but sometimes I do.  I try to push away the thoughts and keep moving, because I don’t have the energy to think about it and it slows me down and depresses me, but sometimes it wins.  Once I acknowledged that this was a difficult time, my friend helped me to reframe “Why is He punishing me?” into “What does He want from me?”  I don’t know why HaShem has given my family and me these challenges, whether it was something I did wrong or it was just what was supposed to be for some specific reason of which I wasn’t aware, but either way I could respond and work on myself. So I looked at all the little thing that together made things seem big, and decided to try to work on doing little things for others that to them might seem big.  I found one the very next day when instead of making it through the light by school that took ages to change, I let someone who lives on that block back out of her driveway.  I often saw her waiting for a while to back out, and she gratefully gave me a bright smile and a wave.  After finally getting through the light I’d missed, I swallowed the annoyance at being stuck farther back on the carpool line and used the time to say some t’hillim.  I congratulated myself on swallowing the annoyance and decided I could do it again.  So later, when my daughter came to me at 10:00 PM for geometry help just after I’d gotten off the phone with my son’s principal, I took two deep breaths and swallowed the thoughts that said, “Why should I have to do this now after the day I’ve had?” and I reminded myself that she too feels overwhelmed and that I have the power to help her just like I wish someone would help me.  So I smiled and sat with her the same amount of time as usual, but with a better attitude, and when we finished she looked more confident. By the time the bar mitzva arrived two weeks later I realized that I have a lot of power in my life.  I can smile and change someone’s mood.  I can hold back a little and give someone else the chance to go first.  I can control my own instincts.  After days of making a concerted effort to do little things for others, both in and out of my house, I no longer had to push back the thoughts of, “Am I being punished?”, instead I was constantly thinking “What can I do?” In just one weekend, I was able to let the woman behind me with the almost empty cart go first at the store since mine was full.  I was able to help my son feel confident at his bar mitzva even without his suit jacket that wasn’t able to fit over his cast.  I was able to take a deep breath and get my mom a cup of tea when she complained to me about where I set her up to stay.  I was able to thank all the servers at the seuda as opposed to just the head waiter.  I can try to be the person who reaches out to help another with a smile instead of frowning at my circumstances. If the Satan throws things at me one after the other to try to trip me up, I can always stay a few steps ahead of him by doing little things for others and making small improvements in myself and how I interact.  Pirkay Avos: “Rabi Eliezer ben Yaakov omer…t’shuva u’ma’asim tovim ki’s’ris bi’f’nay ha’pur’a’nus.“ “Rabi Eliezer ben Yaakov says…repentance and good deeds are like a shield against retribution.“ (Perek Daled, Mishna Yud Gimmel). This mishna is teaching us that unless repentance results in good deeds, it remains inadequate. The question arises:  why are both t’shuva and good deeds necessary to shield us from suffering?  Wouldn’t either of these potent spiritual weapons suffice?  Perhaps, the mishna is assuring us that even if one has violated the most serious transgression for which t’shuva alone does not atone (such as sins which bear the punishment of karais, banishment of the soul), the combined effect of repentance with good deeds will shield the individual from retribution.  We don’t know whether our mitzvos provide sufficient protection

Review: Last week’s stretch of the week was:  Make a point of being consciously humble in some way this week.  Please allow ONE person to share her experience with this exercise for ONE minute.  Lesson #42 PIRKAY AVOS–ETHICS OF OUR FATHERS The Honor of Your Students Should Be As Beloved To You As Your Own Y’hi Ch’vod Talmidcha Chaviv Alecha K’Shelach Perek Daled, Mishna Tes Vav Story:  (based on a true story) The Kaplans from two doors down are ba’alei teshuva.  The whole family began their return a few years ago and they recently switched their two kids to Jewish schools.  Several of us on the block have been helping out whenever possible, answering questions and extending Shabbos and Yom Tov invitations.  It’s inspiring to watch and help with their journey.  Early on, my husband and I decided to make sure the Kaplans were not “a project”.  We would treat them with the respect they deserved and as friends. Two weeks ago, we had the Kaplans for Shabbos.  Sylvia came to help me in the kitchen while our husbands kept watch over the kids.  We talked about the difficulties of starting kids in new schools as I made up the salad plates for the next course.  She had some really nice insights on how to help her children adjust, and I was amazed at how she advocated for them.  I resolved to consult her after Shabbos about one of my kids and a problem she was having at school. As I was picking through the cherry tomatoes in my containers, Sylvia went quiet.  After a minute, she said, “Um, I thought I learned you have to do that differently.” I stopped my hands and looked down.  What was I doing wrong? I was pulling out the ones I wanted and putting them on plates, right?  What was the problem?  Wasn’t I the one who usually helped her out with things like this?  I was still getting used to the idea that we could now eat at their house.  But then I stopped my thoughts too.  I remembered something my cousin once said to me when I visited her and her family just after I came back from Israel. “I always say that if you want to know anything about the halachos of Shabbos or Kashrus, ask a seminary girl,” said my cousin, who had by then been teaching girls limudai kodesh for over ten years.  “Even if you’ve been doing it for ages.  The seminary girl learned it all and is so excited about it.”  It was a part of my cousin’s general philosophy of learning from and respecting others.  I remember once relating to her a particular idea by Rav Yaakov Kamenetzky that I had just learned that he said regarding an incident in that week’s parsha.  She thanked me, acknowledging that it was an idea she already knew but she had not known that it was said regarding this particular issue and was grateful for that knowledge and could now teach it to her students.  I had given her something valuable that she wouldn’t have gotten if she had stopped me midway and said, “Yes, I’ve heard this before.” Yes, I had way more experience running an every-day and every-Shabbos kosher kitchen than Sylvia did, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be right here.  Even if she wasn’t, it was worth a review of the halachos.  And regardless of everything, I needed to hear her out.  So I put on an open facial expression, hoping my pause had not been too long, and asked her what I might have been doing wrong.  She carefully said I had been pushing aside some bad ones to get to the good ones underneath.  I hadn’t realized I had been doing that.  Whether the exact action I was taking was technically problematic or not, it was certainly worth it for me to go over the laws of separating.  I thanked her for helping me and for the considerate way she raised the issue, and resolved to begin reading ten minutes of the halacha book The Shabbos Kitchen each week and ask any questions I had to my husband or rav.    It was a good lesson.  I already knew that while I was helping teach Sylvia how to be an observant Jew, she was a wonderful resource for me when it came to tuning in to each child and had helped me tremendously with my parenting.  I hadn’t realized that just because she came to the laws of observant Judaism later than I did, that didn’t mean she had nothing to teach me about them. Pirkay Avos: “Rabi Elazar ben Shamu’a omer…Y’hi ch’vod talmid’cha chaviv alecha k’shelach…“ “Rabi Elazar ben Shamu’a says…The honor of your students should be as beloved to you as your own…“ (Perek Daled, Mishna Tes Vav). The mishna informs us that a teacher must accord his student the same respect that he desires for himself.  He must demonstrate respect and treat each student with affection and appreciation, forging a close personal relationship.  Indeed, we find many instances in the Talmud in which teachers expressed a filial love for their students, often calling them “my son.” Many commentators point out that a teacher gains much from his students.  Much of the rebbe’s knowledge is derived from interacting and studying Torah with his students.  The brighter students ask penetrating and challenging questions, whereas the weaker students force the teacher to clarify the material.  Thus, Rabi Chanina stated, “I learned much from my teachers and more from my colleagues than from my teachers, and most of all from my students (Ta’anis 7a). (Reproduced from Rav Lau on Pirkei Avos and from Pirkei Avos with Ideas and Insights of the Sfas Emes and other Chassidic Masters, with permission of the copyright holders, ArtScroll / Mesorah Publications, Ltd.) Discussion Question Options: How do we sometimes treat those who we think know or have less than us without sufficient respect? What can we do to ensure that we give our students, children or those we

Review: Last week’s stretch of the week was:  Greet or contact a family member or neighbor who you would otherwise not reach out to. Please allow ONE person to share her experience with this exercise for ONE minute.  Lesson #44 PIRKAY AVOS–ETHICS OF OUR FATHERS Don’t Appease Your Friend At The Time Of His Anger Al T’ratzeh Es Chavericha Bish’as Ka’a’so Perek Daled, Mishna Chaf Gimmel Story:  (based on a true story) Like I did on most spring afternoons, I was standing talking to Chava and Shifra in Chava’s driveway while we watched the kids bike and scooter up and down the sidewalk.  It was our time to catch up, and Chava was venting about one of her sons’ teachers. “I don’t get it,” she whispered, as the child in question biked by.  “Why would a teacher treat a child like this?  Naftali came home today crying again because he says his Morah hates him.  She called him up in front of the whole class and made him apologize to the class for being rude and disturbing them while they took their math test.  Just because he couldn’t stop tapping his feet under his desk.  OK, it’s annoying, but to have to make a public statement?” We commiserated with her; it didn’t sound like the right consequence.  Chava went on. “Of course, I shouldn’t be surprised.  She just doesn’t seem to get boys at all.  She takes away recess as a punishment for being too hyper.  And then she punishes them again when they’re more hyper later on.  Hello?!  You took away their time to run around.  That’s what you get.” Clearly, Chava was upset, so even as I told myself that this was just her side of the story that was filtered down to her through a fourth grade boy and therefore might not be 100% accurate, I listened because she needed to vent.  Maybe I could help. But when she began talking in full voice about how the kid who complained about the foot-tapping was the son of one of the school’s biggest donors so of course the school had to back him and not her son, I felt the need to speak up and say something to her.  I felt that she had gone a bit too far and she might regret what she had said later. “Chava,” I began as gently as possible, “you don’t know that, and your kids might start spreading what they hear from you.  I know you’re angry, but you need to calm down.  You’ll get less done with the school when you’re so upset.  How can we reframe this?” I felt Shifra give me a little shove, and turned to look at her.  “Not now,” she mouthed. Meanwhile, Chava gave me a look, and said, “Maybe the kids should know how the world works when it comes to money.  And we can’t all be calm perfect people when our children are crying.”  Then she moved away to help one of her kids turn around his tricycle. “She’s not ready to not be angry yet,” Shifra said to me.  “You’re right, she was saying things that didn’t need to be heard.  But maybe we could figure out how to redirect her a little on the worst parts and just listen to the others and say, “That sounds hard.”  Or we could leave if we needed to.  It’s not like she was taking it out on anyone.  You know Chava–in general she’s a reasonable person.  She’ll eventually calm down, and then she’ll bounce it off of us for added perspective.” That was true.  I knew how much I hated it when my husband said to me, “You really need to calm down” when I was upset about something.  All I wanted was to be listened to.  I sometimes lashed out at him as Chava had to me, not meaning what I was saying. I had hoped to help Chava after spending several weeks in a mussar shiur learning about reframing, emuna, being dan l’chaf z’chus and how anger poisons our judgment and our simchas ha’chayim.  Putting these ideas into practice was doing wonders for my mood and the way I tackled problems, so they were foremost in my mind.  But I saw now that right at this moment, it was the wrong time.  I should have just said, “I hear you” and moved on. Pirkay Avos: “Rabi Shimon ben Elazar omer:  Al t’ratzeh es chavericha bish’as ka’a’so…“ “Rabi Shimon ben Elazar says:  Do not appease your friend at the time of his anger…”(Perek Daled, Mishna Chaf Gimmel). This mishna lists good and useful actions that, if not performed at the proper moment, can have untoward consequences.  It offers counsel on how to conduct oneself under difficult circumstances.  In the Rambam’s words, the mishna speaks of “moral matters regarding proper human relations.” Rabbainu Yosef elaborates on this dictum that an attempt to appease someone when he is upset is as counterproductive as putting out a fire with spoonfuls of water or adding oil to flames.  Midrash Shmuel adds that a person who attempts to do so is guilty of placing a stumbling block before the blind, because an angry person is likely to lash out at an ill-advised attempt to calm him. In a cautionary tale of how attempting to soothe a person in his wrath may only enrage him further, we learn that after Yonason helped David escape Shaul HaMelech’s anger, Shaul rebuked his son.  When Yonason attempted to reason with his father, “Why should (David) die?  What has he done?”, Shaul hurled his spear at him. The Abarbanel offers that after the previous mishna, mishna chaf bais, spoke of the importance of an hour of repentance and good deeds in this world, the present mishna provides the complimentary perspective that not every hour is appropriate for every action, no matter how laudatory it may be. (Reproduced from Rav Lau on Pirkei Avos and from Pirkei Avos with Ideas and Insights of the Sfas Emes and other Chassidic Masters, with

Review: Last week’s stretch of the week was:  Ask a student, a child, or someone you usually help out to teach or tell you something from their knowledge or experience. Please allow ONE person to share her experience with this exercise for ONE minute. Lesson #43 PIRKAY AVOS–ETHICS OF OUR FATHERS Be The First To Greet Every Individual He’vay Makdim B’Shlom Kol Adam Perek Daled, Mishna Chaf Story:  (based on a true story) How to be a pleasant person who brings peace this world, by Chaya Silverman.  First, say hi to the crossing guard by my kids’ school.  Second, thank her for her help.  Third, do that raised-hand-wave thank you thing to the cars that stop for us.  Fourth, say good morning to whoever the school has doing outside duty for drop-off.  Fifth, SMILE at kids as I send them off into school, and wait until they have gone in to mumble, “Thank you HaShem.  I survived the weekend.  Let someone else deal with them now.” Next, off to work.  Say hi to the door security guard and don’t complain about having to sign in all my info when I come in almost every day; it’s his job.  Rush to weekly Monday morning meeting and greet everyone quickly in the thirty seconds before it starts.  Don’t fall asleep.  Thank my boss for all the updates when the meeting is over and head off to pull my first client’s file for review.  Greet client, listen, take notes, ask questions, recommend, plan follow-up, say goodbye.  Repeat, repeat, eat lunch at desk, repeat again.  Say goodbye to the secretary I forgot to greet as I rushed in, and thank her for something specific she helped me with today. Pick up kids, SMILE, homework, dinner, baths, bedtime stories, sleep.  For them, not me.  I’m not sleeping too well these days. My life has been on auto-pilot lately.  I’m a bit of an emotional mess because I am currently not on great terms with my first cousin, with whom I was raised pretty much like sisters.  We spoke almost daily and saw each other every couple of weeks.  Then a few months ago she got very upset over something I did during a family simcha that I had no idea would slight her.  She remained upset even after I came to understand and apologized for it, repeatedly.  Apparently it was the straw that broke the camel’s back that I didn’t know existed, and she has decided that she can’t handle talking to me for a while.  It’s been over two months since I gave up trying after my third consecutive call went unanswered and unreturned.  I’m now pretty upset at her too.  It is affecting my whole life, even outside of the void in my every-day life and the complicated conversations with extended family and the bas mitzva where I was not welcome.  The air of disagreement and resentment poisons my mood and the smoothness of my thought processes.  I now understand why my kindergarten teacher always sang, “Shalom makes the world go round.”  Even if my clearly biased viewpoint tells me I’m in the right about this argument, I’ve only got justice and truth; I still need peace as the third pillar to hold up my world.  Now that I don’t have it, everything seems dull and regimented, but I don’t know how to bring it back. Two weeks ago I decided that if I can’t improve the situation with my cousin, I can improve myself.  I would become a “smiler” and a “greeter”, someone who brings peace wherever they go and not that annoying absentmindedness and aloofness that can ruin your day.  So I push against the humdrum and any lingering bad mood and give a nice greeting to the people I walk by, or to the clerks in stores.  I smile.  People smile back.  Hopefully they then smile at the next person they see, and we all have a day that’s just a little bit easier. It’s been working so far, too.  In the beginning I had to remind myself of each greeting and each smile, and now I find it coming more naturally.  I feel more positive in general, and there is now room in my schedule for a quick conversation or an extra hug for my kids while listening about their days.  The kids must feel it too because they are also smiling more and they too have been saying hi to the crossing guard.  Last Thursday when I picked the kids up my six year old said, “Hi Mommy!  How was your day?”  It felt good, and it felt extra good to know that by saying things like that I might give other people that same good feeling. In the darkness of my attempted slumber I begin to think.  To be greeted by a stranger is lovely.  To be greeted by a family member, voluntarily and not just out of obligation, is gold.  My cousin does not want to talk to me.  But I can text her, something short.  Before I change my mind I grab for my phone on my nightstand and quickly type out, “Good morning, Kayla.  Have a good day.”  I put down the phone without sending it, but I still sleep better than I have in months. My alarm wakes me at 6:30 as usual.  When I unplug my phone on the way out of my room I call up the text screen, take a deep breath, and hit send.  I go about my day, my smile a bit brighter, but when I lay down again that night there has been no reply.  I am angry, and then I am not.  It hasn’t helped me so far, right?  I whisper a quick request to HaShem and again type, “Hope your yesterday was OK.  Have a good today.”  In the morning I send it. Two hours later as I’m leaving the kids’ school, my phone vibrates.  I pull over to read it.  She has written, “You

Review: Last week’s stretch of the week was:  Listen to someone who is upset when that is what they need most. Please allow ONE person to share her experience with this exercise for ONE minute.  Lesson #45 PIRKAY AVOS–ETHICS OF OUR FATHERS And Do Not Attempt To See Him At The Time Of His Degradation V’al Tishtadel Lir’o’so Bish’as Kalkalaso Perek Daled, Mishna Chaf Gimmel Part 2 Story:  (based on a true story) My son jumped off the garage roof two weeks ago. Shmuel was always an adventure-seeking child, creating obstacle courses out of lawn chairs and climbing any rocks and trees he could find.  At the age of six he received his official diagnosis of ADHD, but since he does OK in school we mostly continued to think of him as “a whole lot of boy”.  As a result, we bolted our bookcases to the wall, replaced a couple of windows, and got a parenting teacher involved for planning the best way to discipline.  We also added some medication a couple years ago when he started to get bigger and accidentally hurt one of his brothers.  Other than that, we’ve been basically OK. This year, though, Shmuel’s school has been calling us a lot about him.  His eighth grade teachers have seen a bunch of problems with his behavior, and his grades have started to slip.  He’s also been irritable and restless at home.  A couple months ago his psychiatrist raised his medication levels to compensate for his growth, but we haven’t seen much difference, so the doctor recommended weekly sessions with a behavioral therapist. The process of finding a therapist was kind of overwhelming for me, so after a couple weeks work I put it on the back burner until after winter break.  But on the Shabbos afternoon of vacation, Shmuel went out back and twenty minutes later I heard the screams.  I ran into the driveway and saw him in a heap on the ground.  As we waited for Hatzala, my daughter explained between gasps that he had been angry after she told him that something he was doing wasn’t safe, and then started showing off to her and the neighbors.  He had climbed a drain pipe up to the garage roof, screamed, “Check this out!”, and jumped. The whole block came out to see the ambulance, of course.  Clumps of kids stared from the nearest sidewalks and it seemed like every doorstep was occupied by an adult who watched as the medics negotiated the best way to move Shmuel onto the gurney.  My husband went along in the ambulance and I stayed home to figure out what to do next.  My next door neighbor Kayla came over to help with my kids and asked no questions except for Shmuel’s davening name. When another neighbor came to check in on me and asked what happened, I retreated to my room.  What could I say?  My kid jumped off the roof?  Who does that?  I think Kayla knew from her kids, and I heard her tell a couple people that Shmuel fell hard and seemed to have hurt his leg.  I was grateful to her for being a buffer and keeping Shmuel from being the talk of the town.  When Shabbos ended and I found out Shmuel had two shattered ankles and a skull fracture and would need surgery, Kayla became my rock.  She continued to not ask, just do, and she kept all of the other doers out of the house except for the ones I absolutely needed. We were now dealing with a psychologically and behaviorally complicated teenager with significant physical injuries, along with our own guilt in letting it get to this point.  It was a lot, and I didn’t want to talk to anyone about it.  Clearly, everyone knew and saw over the next couple of weeks that Shmuel was hurt and was in the hospital and came home in a wheelchair with two casts.  They brought desperately needed meals and I thanked them quickly and shut the door.  They called and I told them I couldn’t talk but would let them know if I needed anything.  They soon learned to ask Kayla all their questions, and she gave short, polite answers.  We didn’t even know if we wanted people to daven for him; that seemed so severe. People have been offering help and advice.  I don’t want it.  I screen my calls before I answer because I just don’t know what to say.  I do have a couple of people who I talk to about it who truly understand and can help, but in general, it is hard to explain the situation without fully explaining it, and I don’t want to do that.  It’s not fair to Shmuel and uncomfortable for me.  He keeps saying that people are treating him like a freak show, and I know the feeling.  Is everyone trying to figure out how not to have this happen to them?  Are they just curious? I know that with a little more time I will be able to handle normal interactions with people, and then I will start calling them and I will say more than “Hi” when I pass them on the street.  I hope that they will respect my need to not talk about what happened unless I volunteer it, and that when I respond to heartfelt questions of, “So how’s Shmuel doing?” with “Great, coming along.  And how is your son?” they will get the message.  Until then, just talking to people is becoming one more stressor in my already complicated life.  I am grateful to those who give me my space. Pirkay Avos: “Rabi Shimon ben Elazar omer:  …v’al tishtadel lir’o’so bish’as kalkalaso.“ “Rabi Shimon ben Elazar says:  …and do not attempt to see him at the time of his degradation.“(Perek Daled, Mishna Chaf Gimmel). Nobody wishes to be discovered in a moment of weakness.  Should we happen to be present when someone acts inappropriately, we should

Review: Last week’s stretch of the week was:  Find a way to help someone while still giving them space.  Please allow ONE person to share her experience with this exercise for ONE minute. Lesson #46 PIRKAY AVOS–ETHICS OF OUR FATHERS Don’t Look At A Pitcher But At What It Contains Al Tistakel BaKankan, Ella B’ma Sheyaysh Bo Perek Daled, Mishna Chaf Zayin Story:  (based on a true story) I walked into my daughter Suri’s second grade classroom on back to school night to see a baby at the teacher’s desk.  OK, not a baby, but someone who looked like she just got off the plane from seminary and couldn’t be bringing more than her student-teaching experience along with her. This was not going to work.  My Suri was a great girl, but she had a bit of spirit in her and a different way of picking up the material that had made the year before challenging.  I had specifically asked for Mrs. Feldman, a veteran at the school, but here I was sitting in a tiny chair staring up at Miss Chavi Silverstein, who I had never heard of much less met and who was currently babbling an introduction in front of us. She spoke about alternative learning strategies and using simcha and movement, all of which sounded nice and pre-school-like but not structured enough for a second grader like my Suri.  As soon as she was finished I headed straight for the office and waited my turn for the principal.  Within ten minutes I was telling her that while she had reassured me that Miss Silverstein would be great for Suri, I still felt she needed someone less flighty and with more experience.  This was far from my first child, and I knew some things.  The principal just said that Miss Silverstein had some really useful tools for working with kids like Suri. I watched closely for the next couple of months.  I figured that if after giving it time Suri floundered again as she had with her touchy-feely teacher last year, the principal would have to listen.  Granted, Suri loved school, but who wouldn’t in a classroom full of fun?  But I was the one who was surprised. On Rosh Hashana she read through her d’var Torah at the table without stopping in frustration at the words she couldn’t read; instead she tried to sound it out and then pointed for me to help.  On Succos she gave an animated description of how to grow an esrog tree and informed us that her Morah would be giving her her own plant later in the year.  And weeks later, she sat on the living room floor and moved carefully built lego towers back and forth as she recited basic math problems under her breath and jotted down answers on her homework sheet.  Suri was also responding well to the class discipline structure, which I knew little about. At our first parent teacher conference, I walked in with an open mind.  Miss Silverstein was thrilled with Suri but also set out some concrete goals for her and let me know how I could reinforce her progress at home.  She told me about her experience helping her mother prepare materials for her first grade class for many years and about her younger sister who never could seem to learn just sitting at a desk.  She also mentioned the techniques she learned at the special student teaching position she had requested in seminary, at the BA program she had completed, and at her last job, all of which I had discounted at the Open House as “too new”. Clearly, Miss Silverstein knew how to teach my daughter.  I now had a happy child who was learning, which is the best combination I know.  And clearly she was not just off the plane with no knowledge or experience.  I had judged her by her youth and her lack of a wedding ring, and was so glad that the principal had forced me to give her a chance.  I was glad I had controlled myself and not spoken negatively about this teacher.  Even at the beginning, I might tell my friends that I had my heart set on the school veteran teacher but had gotten a new one and hoped for the best, even when in my heart I didn’t believe I would get it.  Now, I made sure to tell anyone who asked about the wonderful new second grade teacher who had a lot to give. Pirkay Avos: “Rabi Meir omer:  Al tistakel bakankan, ella b’ma sheyaysh bo…“ “Rabi Meir says:  Don’t look at a pitcher but at what it contains…“(Perek Daled, Mishna Chaf Zayin). Rabi Meir states that a person’s wisdom cannot be gauged by his age.  One cannot judge a book by his cover.  Wisdom depends principally upon a person’s spirit, and the degree to which he works on developing his soul.  The fathers of the Chassidic movement tell us that this mishna teaches the need to look at a Jew’s soul and not his superficial manifestations.  “Do not look at a pitcher”-do not judge a person on the basis of his deeds, not even his sins.  “But what it contains”-bear in mind always that the soul of every Jew is a Divine portion from above, to which filth cannot attach itself.  One cannot despair of any Jew, including oneself.  The inner spark is never dimmed.  It need merely be blown into a flame that will burn of itself. Midrash Shmuel explains that this mishna means to inspire us to refrain from exaggerated focus on physicality.  “Do not look at the pitcher but what it contains”; do not make your body your primary area of concern, but your soul.  And, continues the mishna, the proof that the pitcher’s external appearance is unimportant is that “there can be a new pitcher that contains old wine, and one that does not even contain new wine.”  Just as the pitcher’s age and appearance have

Review: Last week’s stretch of the week was:  Look deeper to get to know someone who looks, acts or dresses differently than you do. Please allow ONE person to share her experience with this exercise for ONE minute.  Lesson #47 PIRKAY AVOS–ETHICS OF OUR FATHERS Jealousy, Desire and Glory Remove A Man From The World  HaKin’a V’Hata’ava V’haKavod Motzi’in Es Ha’Adam Min Ha’Olam Perek Daled, Mishna Chaf Ches Story:  (based on a true story) I watched my daughter Tehilla get on her bus without the normal spring in her step.  She’d been stressed out for a few months while applying to seminaries while trying to stay optimistic.  Last night we got the letter from her top choice school, just the day after the one from her second choice and her safety school.  They all said no.  My heart ached for her, and I wondered, why does life need to be so painful? My neighbor’s daughter just got in to two of the seminaries Tehilla was rejected from. Another neighbor just told me she’s so grateful that none of her kids have learning disabilities.  Yet another has a beautiful relationship with her in-laws, who sometimes take one of the kids for Shabbos.  None of them routinely walk their small kids to the bus while still in their pajamas and robe with a slipping tichel and a screaming kid, feeling the eyes of those on the block that seem to say, “Oy.  It’s too bad she can’t get it together.”  None seem to be struggling from crisis to crisis. I am jealous.  I want these good things too.  When I was growing up I always thought that jealousy and desires were about wanting the amazing eraser collection that Shifra had, or the new bedroom set that Ahava got, or the fancy lunches that Tamar’s mother made for her.  I thought that wanting kavod meant wanting to be class president or the most popular girl in the class or valedictorian.  I guess life wasn’t too hard for me then, with no significant bumps in the road, or at least none that I knew about.  I didn’t understand that wanting normal things or a regular status can also be a problem. I have heard all of the lessons.  You don’t know what’s happening behind other people’s doors.  If it was given to you then you can handle it.  HaShem’s plan cannot be understood.  I know it is all true, but it is so hard when you are going through a hard time and you watch the people around you not having to bear that particular burden.  I’ve even been jealous of my parents’ generation; it hurts every time my mother or mother-in-law says, “We didn’t have all this mishegas with my kids; it was much simpler.” When all the kids were on their buses I pushed myself to daven even though I didn’t much feel like it.  After mouthing all the words I gulped down some coffee and called my sister, who I am so thankful for.  After I gave her an earful she gave me one. “You are sad right now about your own life,” she said.  “I get that, but it has nothing to do with what other people have.  Remember what our principal used to tell us when we said something wasn’t fair?  When we’re too busy watching other people’s lives, we can’t keep our eyes on our own.  So look at your own situation instead:  what can you do to help Tehilla?  What can I do?” It was a needed perspective shift.  I could be sad, but I needed to focus my energy productively.  I thought for a few minutes, but my head and heart were still swimming, so my sister suggested I ask Tehilla’s high school for help. I had never really felt that I could rely on my kids’ school to help my kids out effectively the way they seemed to help others.  But, after my sister’s mussar schmooze, I decided that it may have been partially due to my perspective so why shouldn’t I give it a try?  A few minutes later I was talking to the guidance counselor, who promised to speak with the principal and get back to me.  Then I called my sister back. “I figured out what you can do,” I told her.  “You can daven.  And maybe do a couple of mitzvos in the z’chus that the school should be able to help us.” That sounded like a good idea for me too.  For the rest of my day, every time my thoughts wandered to jealousy of others who didn’t have my problems, I redirected them toward thinking of what I could do for someone else instead.  I ran a quick office errand for someone who was extra-swamped at work.  I said a perek of t’hi’lim for the young woman I met outside the front desk who was interviewing for a job.  I smiled and greeted people at the grocery store and had a conversation with the cashier, a woman I’ve seen at shiurim here and there but who didn’t run in my circles.  And I hoped it all would be a z’chus for Tehilla’s plans working out for her. My story has a happy ending that took a while.  The principal made a bunch of calls and really pushed for her, which made both of us feel cared for but yielded no results.  For weeks Tehilla had no school until a newly forming seminary reached out to Tehilla’s principal to fill a couple of spots and in the end that’s where she went.  We were all nervous and it was rocky at first, but in the end worked out well. My own personal triumph was that as we went through all of this, every time I started to think about how someone else didn’t have to go through all of this, I stopped myself and did something for someone else instead.  I was even able to help Tehilla do the same, and she is a

Review: Last week’s stretch of the week was:  When you feel jealousy or desire for something you can’t have, redirect and help someone out. Please allow ONE person to share her experience with this exercise for ONE minute.  Lesson #48 PIRKAY AVOS–ETHICS OF OUR FATHERS A Wise Person Does Not Speak Before Someone Greater Than He In Wisdom Or Age Chacham Aino M’Daber Lifnai Mi SheGadol Mimenu B’Chochma U’v’Minyan Perek Hai, Mishna Tes Story:  (based on a true story)  My in-laws were coming for a long summer weekend.  I was a little stressed, because my mother-in-law is the type of person who knows everything. There are two categories of things she tells me and everyone else:  the things she really does know, which is a lot, and the things she’s positive she knows even if that might not be the case.  She’s not trying to be overbearing or to speak more often than most others about pretty much every topic.  It’s just her way of being, of sharing her knowledge and advice with the world because she really does want to help.  They arrived just before lunch on Friday, and within two hours I was out the door to run errands.  She had already told me a better way to make my main course and recommended a different type of light bulb for the guestroom, and I was ready to snap.  I told her we were quite happy with our meatball recipe and the light bulb was fine and not changing.  I picked up the baby and told her I was going to the store for more eggs.  I left before I got a nostalgic speech about how she remained organized when her kids were young, and as I got in the car I dialed a friend for help. “You have to help me,” I said.  “She’s driving me crazy.  I keep answering back, which isn’t good.  Or cutting her off with my own way of doing things so she can’t suggest hers.  I know I need to respect her more because she’s my mother-in-law and she’s lived life and all of that, but my head is exploding!  She just told me my meatballs would be better if I made them with seltzer!” “Well,” my friend said, “I actually do make mine with seltzer.  The ones you had a few weeks ago and you asked for the recipe.” What could I say to that?  So my mother-in-law was right.  She often is.  After a few words of encouragement from my friend I hung up and started my shopping.  As I walked through the aisles, I tried to figure out what bothered me so much about my mother-in-law that I felt I needed to answer her back or preempt her, that made me want to speak up and be right instead of listening.  I guess I wanted to be heard; for her to know that I could know just as much as she did about running a home or other things because if I didn’t, that might mean I’m inferior. But that wasn’t true.  Judaism teaches us to look up to our elders and that they have a lot to offer us, and that we are better people for listening to and respecting them.  My mother-in-law wasn’t trying to make me feel inferior.  She had raised a house full of boys quite well and now she wanted to help me raise my family.  Granted, it might not be my way all the time, but I would be no less right if I listened to her, thought about her idea, and thanked her for sharing it.  I could then let it go in a respectful way while my mother-in-law felt useful and heard.  I might even decide that the advice was useful and not discard it because of my pride. Over dinner, instead of guiding the conversation carefully to avoid my mother-in-law’s frequent outpourings, I asked her about her life growing up on the Lower East Side.  She smiled wide and began to tell some really interesting stories about her childhood, including a description of lack that I could see had led to some of the efficiency tips she often gave me.  For much of the meal we asked and she told, and even when my attention waned I could see that my kids were fascinated.  They followed my example and asked more and more. I told myself not to waste future opportunities for my children to hear from their grandparents.  At each meal for the rest of their stay we asked both my in-laws about different periods of their lives, about their work, and about their hobbies.  My baseball-fan father-in-law took my son to Little League instead of my husband and helped coach a little.  And, when my mother-in-law asked if we were interested in her taking my older daughter out to buy flowering plants so the two of them could plant them along our front walk, I agreed happily.  Just days ago I would have taken this as an affront to how I kept my lawn. Each day now when I pass those plants and remind my daughter to water them, I think about growth and roots.  I may not like everything my elders tell me, and we don’t need to take all of their advice now that we run our own household.  But they are our roots, and have a lot to share.  Our relationship and the m’sora of our people will flower if I listen and teach my children to listen, instead of needing to speak and be heard. Pirkay Avos: “…Chacham aino m’daber lifnai mi shegadol mimenu b’chochma u’v’minyan;“ “…A wise person does not speak before someone greater than he in wisdom or age;“(Perek Hai, Mishna Tes). Although a wise person has worthwhile things to say, he prefers to first listen to those greater than he, for his soul desires wisdom and yearns to gain knowledge and perfection, rather than recognition. Basing itself on the specific Hebrew phraseology, Midrash

Review: Last week’s stretch of the week was:  Ask a parent or in-law to share some of their knowledge with you. Please allow ONE person to share her experience with this exercise for ONE minute.  Lesson #49 PIRKAY AVOS–ETHICS OF OUR FATHERS And He Does Not Interrupt The Words Of His Colleague V’Aino Nichnas L’Soch Divrai Chavayro Perek Hai, Mishna Tes Part 2 Story:  (based on a true story) A woman I know from my parenting class saw me at the playground and crossed over from the slides to the swings.  I knew I was in for quite a conversation as usual, and I was right.  In the course of the fifteen minutes we pushed our kids’ swings, I knew all about her son’s upcoming bar mitzva, her first grader’s learning disability and the problems with her new shaitel.  Any time I mentioned something about myself, she said, “I know, right?  I had something just like that happen to me.”  And then she would proceed to tell me. Later that day I found myself talking to my next door neighbor for a little while, and, when I went back into my house I realized that I had been talking most of the time.  She had encouraged me, and seemed truly interested in what I was saying.  She also didn’t change the subject, and she didn’t offer advice unless I asked.  Instead, she encouraged me to figure out what I could do. I wanted to be a listener, not a talker, so I started paying more attention when I spoke to people.  Instead of matching their stories with my own, I started asking them questions.  I actually found that in general, not sharing about me at the expense of others wasn’t that hard to do once I paid attention to it, and I found my conversations very rewarding. But there was one major challenge:  not trying to solve people’s problems.  A conversation often ended up sounding like this: Friend:  It’s so hard managing homework with three kids at the same time. Me:  Maybe you should stagger them. Friend:  I do my best, I try to do that, but it’s just hard, you know? Me:  Maybe you should get a chessed girl to come help. Friend:  Maybe, but- Me:  It’s not that hard to do, just a phone call. The thing is, it’s not that offering help is bad in and of itself.  But it’s good to first see if that’s what’s wanted, or whether I have the whole picture yet.  More often than not, my friends just want to be heard, but I take that away from them.  Instead I jump in and sometimes even interrupt them because I feel like I already know what they’re going to say, and I have help to offer. But I don’t always know.  Who does?  Not the woman I know from my parenting class who is always answering and asking questions without being called on.  She really does know a lot, and she’s actually really great about acknowledging when something that’s said is new to her.  But sometimes she doesn’t get to hear new ideas because of how she calls out.  I know it’s just her nature and that she doesn’t realize she’s doing it, but she’s losing out, and sometimes taking opportunities from others.  Plus, she sometimes gives the wrong advice to someone because she hasn’t finished listening to the situation or thought it through. So I try to remember not to jump to offer solutions or interrupt.  I don’t always know what will be said, or should be said in return, and it’s best for everyone if I sit back and listen.  It’s OK if there’s a situation that I have no clue about, and if I do have an idea of how to help, I think it through first, including acknowledging what I don’t know. Pirkay Avos: “…V’aino nichnas l’soch divrai chavayro, v’aino nivhal l’hoshiv…v’al ma she’lo shoma, omair ‘lo shomati’…“ “…And he [a wise person] does not interrupt the words of his colleague, and does not rush to reply…and regarding something he has not heard, he admits, ‘I have not heard’…“(Perek Hai, Mishna Tes). The wise person allows the person speaking to him to complete his thoughts without interrupting him.  Aharon exhibited this behavior when, after his sons died, he allowed Moshe to finish questioning him before responding.  And HaShem himself demonstrated this trait when he permitted Avraham to plead at length on behalf of the inhabitants of S’dom.  This trait extends to maintaining a patient and attentive demeanor when someone else is speaking. It is a common misconception that a wise person has all the answers at his fingertips and therefore responds quickly.  But true wisdom is the fruit of deep thought welling up from the desire to arrive at the truth, not to impress others.  He considers a matter carefully, analyzes it in all its ramifications before he responds.  We find this quality in the fourth of Iyov’s associates, who does not speak until Perek Lamed Bais of Sefer Iyov.  However, when he realizes that his companions were not answering Iyov properly, he decided, “I will speak…” (Iyov, 32:6). Admitting one’s lack of knowledge demonstrates both wisdom and civility.  When Moshe Rabbainu was presented with a halachik question by to’mai individuals who wished to offer the Korban Pesach, he replied, “Stand there and and I will hear what HaShem has commanded concerning you” (Bamidbar 9:8)-meaning, our sages amplify, “I have not yet learned this.  Stand and I shall hear from HaShem” (Sifri).  In the days of the Sanhedrin, it was the custom to send sages to guide diaspora communities.  Once R’ Yehuda HaNasi sent a letter to such a community in which he stated, “We have sent you a great man.  And what is his greatness?  That he is not ashamed to admit that he has not heard something” (Yerushalmi Chagiga 1:8). (Reproduced from Rav Lau on Pirkei Avos and from Pirkei Avos with Ideas and Insights of the Sfas Emes and other Chassidic Masters, with

Review: Last week’s stretch of the week was:  Spend a conversation mostly listening instead of talking, offering advice only if asked. Please allow ONE person to share her experience with this exercise for ONE minute.  Lesson #50 PIRKAY AVOS–ETHICS OF OUR FATHERS A Person Who Is Hard To Anger And Easy To Appease Is A Pious Person Ka’sheh Lich’os V’Noach Lirtzos, Chassid Perek Hai, Mishna Yud Daled Story:  (based on a true story) Wanna hear about my week?  I went to my piano student’s house for her lesson and no one was home.  I stood outside waiting.  Five minutes turned into ten, then fifteen with  no answer on the phone, no reply to my texts.  I was getting angrier by the minute.  After 20 minutes I left. Next…has this ever happen to you?  I was at the mall, looking for a parking space–you can guess the rest, right?  I had my blinker on and I was waiting patiently, when another car zoomed in and took the space right out from under me!  Anyone would get angry at that…but there’s more…the selfish driver rolled down his window and shouted “too slow” at me.  I thought my blood was going to boil. I had a right to get angry several more times.  My teenage daughter left the door to her room open so I could actually see what might have been the aftermath of a tornado.  How many times did I have to tell her to clean her room? And how about when I went in to work and they were waxing the floor in the hallway to my office, so I couldn’t get in for an hour.  Why didn’t someone call to tell me? And there have been more serious reasons to be angry.  My 6 year old’s camp counselor had my daughter in tears telling her she was too fat to go on the seesaw with another girl; the co-worker who took credit for a project I did that resulted in a bonus I didn’t get; and, of course, listening to the news makes me angry on so many levels. But, even though my anger is sometimes justified, I don’t want my life filled with the bitterness of anger.  I want a calmer existence.  But how can I achieve that calmness when most of the time it’s not my fault? Anger is often described as a hot emotion–anger burns.  So I’m trying to figure out ways to cool it down.  One way is to analyze why something makes me angry.  Just the cold-blooded thinking it through is often calming.  So looking at the no-show piano student incident I could see two things:  Not only was my time wasted, but now I was put in the uncomfortable position of having to decide whether to charge for the lesson.  Of course I was entitled to get paid for my time, but was that the mentchlach thing to do?  I was also angry that I had to deal with that decision.  Anger at my daughter and her messy room is all tied up with guilt over not having taught her to keep it clean, not being a good enough mother.  And anger about the office not warning me about the floor cleaning is connected to insecurity about my importance at the office.  Even anger at the news is partly due to my, very justifiable, fear.  Understanding these underlying causes of anger might help me react more calmly in the future. Sometimes anger spurs me to action, but the action is short-lived, sometimes with negative consequences.  I want the action to be positive, with long-lasting effects.  So, I must find a way to refrain from calling that camp counselor and raking her over the coals.  That would satisfy me in the short term, but would not help my daughter or the counselor.  I need to call the counselor, find out exactly what happened, explain how hurt my daughter is and ask the counselor  to work it out with her.  (And if I’m too angry to do that maybe I can get my husband to do it.)  I also need to reassure my daughter.  I might even be able to help her to learn to accept a sincere apology, if one is given. I hope that doesn’t sound like I think it’s easy.  It’s a struggle, some days harder than others, but well worth it. Pirkay Avos: “…Ka’sheh lich’os v’noach lirtzos, chassid…“ “…A person who is hard to anger and easy to appease is a pious person…“(Perek Hai, Mishna Yud Daled).   The mishna describes him as “pious”, a word that implies going beyond the norm.  This is a level to which everyone can aspire realistically.  For a person can train himself to see things in perspective and thus realize that hardly any situation is so serious as to cause him to lose himself. When a person grows angry, he loses his wisdom, as occurred to Moshe Rabbainu on a few occasions.  For instance, when Moshe grew angry at Elazar and Isamar during the inauguration of the Mishkan because they had not eaten all the sacrifices, Aharon had to remind Moshe of the relevant halacha (Vayikra 10).  And, after Moshe chastised the Jews who were demanding water, calling them rebels, he erred and hit the rock, because, Rambam states, he had grown angry (Bamidbar 20). But why does the mishna not reserve the use of the term “pious” for someone who never grows angry?  The answer is that only an angel can eschew anger entirely.  A human being, on the other hand, must be patient, but not to the point of allowing others to trample his rights and dignity. Sometimes, in order to defend the honor of HaShem, a person is required to be angry.  This was the case with Pinchas when Zimri ben Salu sinned flagrantly with Kozbi princess of Midyan in the sight of all the people.  Pinchas acted not for his personal glory but on behalf of the honor of HaShem, and, as a result, HaShem rewarded