Chapters
Transcript
Automatic transcript; may contain mistakes, especially in Hebrew.
The famed mashgiach, Rav Eliezer Lapian When he was in his eighties He began saying Tikkun Chatsos and he was asked Why now, in your eighties Are you starting to say Tikkun Chatsos? Which has a lot to do with the destruction of the Beis Hamikdash. And he responded that after 120 They're going to go through Shulchan Aruch. I'm going to ask him what you keep and what you didn't keep. So if they're going along and they get into the 600s Be seder. I have a good track record. I kept so many of the halachos. I messed up towards the end. But a person can't mess up on the first question of the test. And if you look at the very first siman in Shochan Aruch The first siman in Shochan Aruch talks about a God-fearing Jew being someone who is pained and anguished by the destruction of the Beis Hamikdash.
I heard this story And I asked myself I'm not going to pass this test. What will be after 120? Not all of us could be like Rabbi Liebowitz. Who walks around with the pain of the Beis Hamikdash in his heart and on his lips. Kidavim v'sikin Masas Mordechai and Ramah Pechemesh. Every morning, Rav Natanal It's inspiring. It's worth davening vasikin just to hear his cry every morning. But I'll be honest with you: when he says it, I have a smile on my lips. It's so beautiful that Rav Natanal feels the destruction of the Beis Hamikdash. But do I? I don't think I could say that I do. And we're supposed to have the kinos to inspire us to feel the pain and anguish of the day. Kinos were mostly written by Rabbi Lazara Kalir. It's machlokus exactly when he lived But probably he lived during the times of the Byzantine Empire.
Read the full transcript
And the kinos, every single word Is absolutely gorgeous. And so many of the words are references to incredible mamare chazal. Each word references a different medrash about the destruction of the Beis Hamikdash, and beautiful svarim have been written to explain the kinos. But I myself, if I'm being honest Have a hard time with the kinos. I don't know if I'm alone in the room. As I look around, I imagine I'm not. The kinos are hard. They're written in a language that we don't understand. In fact, the Ibn Ezra says that he was critical. The Ibn Ezra and Kohelis was critical of Rav Elazar Hakalir for making up words. Even if we did know the language well enough The words are sometimes completely made up, and for us, we probably don't even know the difference between the made-up words and the real words. Rav Elazar Hakalir had to write the kinos with references to midrashim Because in his time it was mutter to daven But it was usher to learn Torah.
So Rav Elazar Hakalir figured out a way to sneak these references in so that our tefila could become taira. But do we get the references? Are we holding in all of these wonderful, beautiful midrashim? That will bring up so much feeling within us. Sadly, most of us are not. Today, we don't have just kinos. Used to be that a Jew could sit on the floor and cry Read the words of the kinos, and it would inspire him. And today, we have to have drashos that inspire us. As we daven up the kinos, as we quickly say them without paying attention much to the words or to the content, we have people like myself and Aniakata and the great rabbanim that we're going to have here today that are giving these wonderful, beautiful drashas. We have them because we don't know what the kinos mean. And even if we understood the kinos There's another problem.
We've never experienced the pain of the Beis Hamitzvos being destroyed. In NCSY, we pride ourselves. On education On inspiration. Yearning is what keeps memories alive. Google Photos Google Photos for a parent or for a grandparent Is the most beautiful thing in the world Because every once in a while Google Photos says, "You know what happened." Twelve years ago today, you know what happened. Fifteen years ago today And if you have a moment, at least for me, you click on it to see the picture and you see Twelve years ago Sukkot, the whole family went on a tayul and got together. You see the pictures of the children and grandchildren. Nachas And the memories come flooding back. So beautiful. But how could we yearn for memories that we don't have? We're supposed to have a day like Tishah B'av to recall the Beis Hamikdash. To recall what?
We didn't see the Beis Hamikdash. Our parents didn't see the Beis Hamikdash. Our grandparents and our great grandparents didn't see the Beis Hamikdash. So I'm supposed to yearn for a memory that doesn't exist? It's almost an impossible task. And will make it even worse. Thank you to Palestinian Islamic Jihad for reminding us that life in this country is not simple, as we witnessed this morning. Baruch Hashem, we have the Iron Dome. But for the most part, life is not like this in Eretz Yisrael. For the most part, things are pretty good. All things considered. For the most part, a Jew walks around in Eretz Yisrael freely. We have the opportunity to daven by Kever Rachel, to go up to Tzvat, and to daven by the Kotel. It's pretty good. Something that our great grandparents never would have dreamed of. If you would have told our great grandparents what we have today, I don't know if they would be able to comprehend life today.
I had the privilege to be invited to the Yerushalayim Shabbaton. I wasn't with Kol; I was with T. J. A couple of weeks ago. And I was walking from my hotel to where the program was And I saw little children kicking a soccer ball on Shabbos morning in an alleyway in Yerushalayim, and my heart was like exploding—like little children. Are playing in the streets of Yerushalayim. It's a nevuah coming true. It's unbelievable to see. Of course, for so many of us, this country has become a tourist attraction. So we're used to it. But for our great grandparents What we have today—unbelievable. How are we supposed to mourn for something that perhaps? We even have a little bit. We don't have the base of mikdash. We don't have Yerushalayim habenuyah, but we have Yerushalayim. And that's not nothing. So maybe it's hard to sit on the floor on Tisha B'av and speak about what we don't have When, quite frankly We all got on a plane for just a couple of hours. My grandparents came to this country in '67 on a boat.
A boat took weeks And the Six Day War was unbelievable because people were We got Yerushalayim back, but we've had Yerushalayim for a long time now. Familiarity is an unbelievable thing. We've grown accustomed to the unbelievable gifts that we have. So you want me to mourn for something that I've never seen? For something that, quite frankly, maybe I feel a little bit like we have in a language that I don't understand With references to something that I've never learned The challenge of kenos is massive. But Rabbi Isaiah We are up to the challenge. Because we are not satisfied with table scraps. The Kleisenberger Rebbe was a Kaddish of the Kaddish of Bracha in the DP camps after the Holocaust. He was sitting in the camps. And he remarked to one of the Chasidim This is it. After the horrors of the Holocaust The Kleisenberger Rebbe was expecting the Messiah to come on his donkey into Auschwitz, into Treblinka.
And to take all of Israel into Eretz Yisrael immediately with Mashiach Tzidkenu building the Beis Hamikdash And as the Kleisenberger Rebbe sat in the DP camps, safe They provided them with food, gave them tals and tefillin, and gave them shuls to daven in. The Kleisenberger Rebbe expressed words that touched the heart of every single Jew. This cannot possibly be it. So much of our challenge is that we say what we have. But we don't say what we don't have, and what we don't have is much larger than what we do have. Which is not to say that we don't have akharasatov for what we do have, because we have boundless akharasatov, endless akharasatov, massive akharasatov. But what we don't have is huge. It's thirty times what we do have—it's a hundred times what we do have. I remember years ago, Rav Weinberger came to the roof of Yeshiva Hakotel, and we were frabbing up there And I was sitting there thinking, "This is the most beautiful thing in the world."
We're sitting and frabbing on the roof of Yeshiva Hakotel, overlooking the Kotel. And Rav Weinberger started crying. And he pointed to the mosque sitting on Harabayas. And he said, "Look at that blata on Harabayas." And he started crying. And I remember thinking to myself, The Rebbe is reminding us of the thing that we shouldn't need reminding. We should go to the kotel and tear Kria with tears in our eyes. That we don't get to go to Harabayas and be Makrav Karbanos. That there is no Sanhedrin. That there isn't a time in our lives where we will take our families and be oileregel And I want you for a moment just to imagine that we don't have the memories; we do have our imagination. For a moment, let's imagine what it probably looked like as a family from up north gathered together, their carbanos Went into their wagon.
Took their provisions, and began journeying down to the center of the country to go to Harabayas to see the Kohanim and the Levites. In my mind, as I tell myself the story. I imagine that an axle on their wagon breaks And I imagine they're sitting by the side of the road and there's a distraught father and there's no triple A to call And I imagine he's sitting there with kvetchy children and kvetchy grandchildren And he's saying to himself. What am I going to do here? And the kids are off to the side, and he and his son-in-law are trying. Another family comes by. And they stop and say, "Can we help you?" One of them happens to be good with these types of things. He's a mechanic for wagons. And so he begins to fix the wagon. And they go on their way Prideful in the knowledge that another Jew who sees a Jew on the side of the road would stop and help.
And maybe later Months later or years later, when someone mentions that they're from a certain town, he goes, "Oh, is Shlomi the mechanic still living in that town?" You should know. One time he stopped on the side of the road. He fixed our wagon for free. We were being oileregel, a sense of family, a sense of community. And when they needed water or when they ran out of food, they stopped in cities where there were parties being held and food was being given out for free for all of those people that were going down to the mercatz of the country. And when they got there, the traffic jams must have been amazing. All those yidden sitting and trying to get closer and closer up the mountain, and one family's broken down, and a whole bunch of families are trying to help. They're all in Israel, so I imagine they're all barbecuing, and it's probably the most incredible smell. Everybody's there, and everybody's having a good time. Chazal say, if you didn't see that place in that time, if you didn't see the base on Mikdash on Sukkot, so then you've never seen Simcha in your life.
You finally made it to the base on Mikdash, and you saw the Levim singing, and it was so beautiful. The power of the music was so exceptional. What we will have tonight by the Kumsits of the world at the Kotel will be extraordinary, but it will pale in comparison to watching the Levim stand on the steps and sing with all of their souls. And you saw the Kohanim, those Tzaddikim running around in their beautiful garments. They were makers of karbanos Carbon from washing of karov to draw you closer to Hashem. The inspiration must have been unbelievable. Judaism was never meant to be an intellectual experience. The beis medrash is an accident of history. With no choice, Riv Yechon Ben Zakai said, "Tainly yavne v'chachamel." I'll keep the base of Mikdash alive in the coastal beis medrash But that's not what it was supposed to be.
It was supposed to be a visceral live experience. Which is what makes it so powerful. When we learn a block gemara and we get excited by a Rashi, a Tosfos, a Riv Kiva, aiger, a Shvera Ramba, a Shvera Rashba. That's amazing. It's incredible. We can't possibly understand how we've touched the infinite in those moments. But to think that would be nearly as inspiring as seeing an animal on a mizbeach and knowing that animal is a karpin chaptas for you That it was your nefesh habahamis that was up there, and that all you want is to draw all of the parts of you close to the rabbanu shalom. How could he do anything but daven with all of his heart? In such a situation This is what we're missing. How do we mourn something that we don't know? I'll share with you a maseh. Same Shabbos A couple of weeks ago.
I want you to know that if I could spend every moment. Of this summer With T. J. J. I would have to pay N. C. S. Y. Tens of thousands of dollars to make it worth it, because what I learned from these young men and women in just a couple of hours. I take with me for years and decades. There's not enough money that I could possibly pay. So I'm with T. J. Southern, and it's Shabbos morning. T. J. Lions. And after davening, they're doing a question and answer. The theme of the question and answer, Avi Warman tells me. Is how to take it back with you Because there are kids in the TJJ Lions that for the first time in their lives are keeping Shabbos and keeping kosher. And they want to know what's going to be as they're finishing up their summer. What's going to be when they go back?
So I sit down for the question and answer, and I've done this for years already. I know what's coming. I know that the questions will be ten times better than any answer that I give, and that my words are going to be more or less meaningless. But whatever dribble comes out of my mouth, if it helps them a little bit, I'm happy to share. But I know that it won't be enough because the questions they ask are going to be incredible. And they are. And one of the girls raises her hand. And she says What can you tell me to give me the courage to stand up to the anti-Semitism that I face daily in my public school? I want to be able to stand up to those anti-Semites and tell them to be quiet. I want to tell them that I'm proudly Jewish—something that I learned this summer in NCSY TJJ. I've never had the courage to say anything before.
What can you tell me to give me that courage? Rabbi said, "What do you answer to a question like that?" You only sit there with tears in your eyes. With a profound sense of knowledge that girl is much, much closer to the Rebbeinu Shalom than I am, because I don't face anti-Semitism on the daily. I live here in Eretz Yisrael. I don't see it that way. I don't see life that way. What will give me the courage? I don't even know what I answered, but I'm sure it wasn't meaningful. Not nearly as meaningful as the question. And another girl. She says The shul that was closest to my home was barely within walking distance. Is now under construction. Can you give me a heather to drive to shul on Shabbos? Because how in the world could I possibly have a Shabbos where I don't go to shul?
And we walk by how many dozens of shuls on our way to shul. The challenge for so many of us is that I could just stop at a closer shul. I myself walk by six shuls on my way to shul every Shabbos. And this girl is saying, "Give me a heater to drive on Shabbos." I just can't imagine Shabbos without community. And I don't have a family that keeps Shabbos. If I had the power, and I certainly don't My heart broke for that girl. If I had the power to tell her to go to shul on Shabbos, I would. Obviously, it's not the right thing. But who amongst us can say that we yearn like that girl yearns? And at the end There was a girl who asked the question with no time left. It was like one of those doorknob questions. As you're out the door, she says, "I have one last question. We only had two minutes left." This is the question she asks.
My parents are divorced. My mother would be more supportive of my Judaism. My father is dating a Gentile. He's definitely not supportive. He won't let me put up a mezuzah in the house. And there's no shul that's close to me, and there's no Jewish life, and I have no Jewish friends where I live. But I can't not keep Shabbos after this summer in TJJ. I can't not keep Shabbos. How can I go back to not keeping Shabbos? I know, Rabbi, there's no way. Twenty five hours of sitting in my room doing nothing. I know there's no way I'm going to be able to keep Shabbos. Rabbi said, "Do you hear what's happening on TJJ Southern?" Jews are crying out to be able to keep Shabbos. They yearn for it so badly. So I said I don't really have time to answer the question. Let's speak privately on the side. She goes on the side.
And a whole group comes with her. And this girl is crying, and they have their arms around her, a sixteen-year-old girl. And I said, let's talk it out. Would your dad let you light Shabbos candles? She said, I think he let me light Shabbos candles. I said, Shabbos candles. I said, do you have NCSY advisors? That would take you for Shabbos, and there was a whole bunch of NCSY advisors that were standing right there. And they all said we would happily have you for Shabbos. I said, do you think your father would let you go away once a month? She said maybe even twice a month. I said let's keep it at once a month. So once a month, you can keep a complete Shabbos when you go to your NCSY advisors for Shabbos. She said that sounds great. I said, and the Shabbat at your home. How many hours do you think you could keep Shabbos if we had a designated time where in these times you don't break Shabbos?
She said I think I can do a couple hours on Friday night. I said Givaldik. So what would it be like? I asked her. If in a year from now you were standing here again, you came back for a second summer. And you had kept Shabbos fully once a month, you lit Shabbos candles every single week. You had a couple of hours every single Shabbos that you kept Shabbos. She said I would be the happiest girl in the world knowing that I accomplished so much. I said, "What about learning Torah?" You have any Torah that you learn? She goes, "I don't really know how." I said, "We can get you English books." She said, "I would love that." I said, "Who wants to have a chavruta with her?" Who wants to have a chavruta with her once a week to learn with her for half an hour, forty-five minutes? Every advisor shot up their hands.
The girl was bawling, and her friends were bawling, and they were all hugging her. And we have Torah at our fingertips. We have Torah, handed to us on a silver platter. And it's incredible what we have. We come to NCSY summer with the most incredible rebbeim. Beautiful beis medrash. Everything is lined up for us. These kids would kill to be in your position. But the secret is that absence makes the heart grow fonder. If we grew up with it It's so easy. And because it's so easy, and because we don't have to invest much in it It's hard to feel it. Maybe we've done a disservice by making it so easy. Maybe we've done something we shouldn't have. The gedolim told stories about how they would stay in beis medrash until the last candle flickered out. There was nothing left. That's how they became gedolim.
They struggled for their yiddishkeit. My grandmother, Aleih Shalom Who was not an Orthodox woman She was not an observant woman for the most part. I remember when I was doing smicha and I was learning hilchus malicha, the halachas of salting your meat. And I called my grandmother to be a good grandson and check in. And she said, "What are you learning now?" And I said, 'I'm learning the halachos of salting meat.' And my grandmother said, 'Really? Like that's what you're learning?' So I said, 'Yeah.' And she said, 'Everybody knows how you salt the meat.' And she started going through every sif in Shulchan Aruch, every Rama, every Shach, Taz. She's going through the whole thing exactly how you do it. I said, 'Grandma, where do you know this from?' She said, "I watched my mother do it." Because we salted our own meat, we plucked our own chickens, and we brought it to the local shochet.
Today, if you walk into Gourmet Glat and you don't have fifty different types of kosher food available to you, it's a tragedy. We had so much, so it's so hard to mourn. And it's understandable. But maybe if we paid attention a little bit more to what we don't have. Maybe we could mourn the tragedy that we don't mourn anymore Like that story of the Hiloni soldier at the Kotel in the Six Day War When he came and he was crying, and they asked him, "Why are you crying?" And he said, 'What do you mean?' And they said, 'It's not like you're observant. You don't seem to care about this very much in your life. Why are you crying?' And he said, 'I'm crying because I see everybody here crying.' And I have nothing to cry about. It's a yantiv tishavov. It's a ma'ud. We don't say tachnun because it's meant to remind us what we're missing.
We have so much And we have so little at the same time. And you might think you've got it all. But we don't And b, what about our brothers and sisters who really don't? Can you mourn with them? Can you mourn with those brothers and sisters of ours who yearn to keep Shabbos, who yearn to have the courage to stand up to anti-Semitism, who would kill to be in a home like ours With an opportunity like this in NCSY Kollel? One of the saddest things in the world is that somehow I don't know how it is But somehow Kiruv is not in vogue anymore. Terrible tragedy. Everywhere I go, I keep hearing these articles and reading these articles, and hearing these people speak about. Now we have to put money back into our own community. The dollar that we spend on a yeshiva kid is going to go farther than the dollar that we spend on a kid who's not from our community.
We should have a tish above just for that idea. Probably the most distorted idea I've ever heard in my life. Nobody would ever speak that way about a brother and a sister. It's insane to even think about. Could you imagine a brother or a sister on life support? We could spend the money on life support, or we could spend the money on your education. And since you're alive, you'll probably get more out of that dollar. We would never speak that way. Tragedy of epic proportions. Klal Yisrael owes a tremendous debt of gratitude to NCSY and to every single NCSY advisor that stands up and says, "I'm going to prioritize not myself" But another Yidden Klal Yisrael. For that, we will never be able to pay back NCSY. The elite should be going into kiruv. The elite should be going into education. But at the very least We should recognize that we owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to those people who don't have nearly as much as we do, because they remind us of what we do have. And at the very least, we should be misaval just for that.
Is this shiur filed in the wrong place? Let us know.
