Non-Addictive Addiction

I don't use the Internet.
I just check Shmais.
And I make airline tickets.
You get the best prices.
But I don't check anywhere else.
It's shmutzik.
And I have a blog.
It's not like some other blogs.
Mine has normal content.
I've seen hundreds of blogs.
Only mine is worth anything.
Other people claim that they don't go online.
You should see them.
Their YouTube videos are so weird.
There's this one Family Guy video that makes fun of these people.
They have tons of videos.
Most are not that funny.
Pellin is funny though.
I wonder why Gruntig doesn't put on Pellin.
Apple770 does.
Also, Foxnews is not that good.
Drudge is better.
But I hate the pop-ups.
They're mostly filthy.
Even the "clean" sites are pretty bad.
Their standards are lower than mine.
Even AOL has non-tznius pictures.
By the email part.
And most of the facebook pages I've seen are pretty bad.
But not as bad as Myspace.
Wow. That's really bad.
That's why I don't use the Internet.

Honorable Mentchen

The Rebbe told us that Moshaich is already here. Then the Rebbe told us what that means:If we act like Moshiach is here, then we are perfect human beings - we learn Torah, we do Mitzvos, we have Ahavas Yisroel. And when we do that, we have Moshaich.

So technically we have a choice: We can behave as though Moshiach is here, and be as good as we can be. Or we can say, since Moshiach is already here, I can do whatever I want!

But we don't really have the second option, because we are mentchen! And a mentch doesn't do that.

IMHO, the same works with the People to People Connection, interacting with fellow human beings. If someone believes something good about you, you should be good. Take trustworthiness. If someone trusts you, absolute trust, then technically you have two options: lie all you want, because he'll never know. You're safe. Or, be trustworthy and be honest because that's what people believe of you.

But we don't really have the first option, because we are mentchen, and a mentch doesn't do that. A mentch is honest.

What do you think?

Shuge Pillars

The Haftorah of Parshas Beshalach is Shiras Devorah, even though the Shirah on the Parsha is the shira of a man, Moshe Rabbeinu, and the Haftorah could have been Shiras Dovid, a song by a man (not Devorah, a woman). The reason Shiras Devorah is used is that the women in Mitzrayim had a harder time than the men, because they had the responsibility of raising their children - the whole Jewish nation. In spite of their harder job, their success is seen. It is in the fact that Yidden never changed three important things: their style of clothing, their names, and their language. Why was this such a great accomplishment? Because there three things are absolutely vital to the survival of true Yiddishkeit.

1) They didn't change their aidele clothes for the latest styles, because Yiddishe clothing style is aidel, and aidel NEVER changes. They didn't change their style of dress even when it was popular, even when it was more comfortable, even when it was better quality, and even when it was cheaper - Yidden wear aidele clothing!

2) They never changed their language. Obviously this doesn't mean that they didn't speak Egyptian, b/c they probably did, in order to get by in a store, ordering at restaurants, etc. Not changing their language means that they didnt change their adiel way of speaking, they didn't pick up the slang or the rude way that the goyim were speaking: nivul peh, swearing, "coolness," etc.

3)They didn't change their names - they had Yiddishe names, given to them by their parents, and they kept them, without looking for "hip" nicknames, etc.

That's lesson number 1.

Lesson umber two: what did the women sing with Miriam after crossing the yam suf? "Ashira LaHashem Ki Ga'oh Ga'ah, sus verochvo ramah vayam." I will sing to Hashem, Who is exalted and high, the horse and rider are thrown into the sea. They sang in praise and excitement that they were able to raise a generation of children that knew the difference, that knew what's important and what's not. LaHashem - Ga'oh ga'ah, that which is holy and for Yiddishkeit is very important, and that which is "horses and riders" - things that are not crucial to Yiddishkeit, are not importnant. For example food: "What's for supper?" "What's it made of?" They made their children to know that it's not important. Clothing: Which store? Which brand name? Not important! Those children are healthy children.

Clothes Call

I got this from an awesome blog I know, summershepherdess.blogspot.com.

It was a sunny spring shabbos afternoon.
Brother and I were making our way home from shul.

We spoke of this.
Of that.
The other.

The comfortable banter of siblings on a warm walk home...

So I was wearing a particulary random outfit that shabbos.
One of those slightly mismatched, whatever outfits.
Brother had much to say about it, as he loves to do, and I had much to defend about it, which I failed to do.

1. I was in a rush to go to shul.
2. It's getting to hot for my winter stuff.
3. It's still too cold for my summer stuff.
4. Nobody in our shul really cares.
5. I think it looks just fine, thank you very much.

~~~~

But then I got to thinking.
About clothing and words and minds and souls...

~~~~

Let's say your closet has a few nice things in it.

So whenever you have time to think about what you will wear, you can put together something nice.
Very nice.
Very, very nice.
Ohmygoodnessyoulookgorgeous kinda nice.
:)

Great.
But you also have a whole bunch of junk.
Those random items you never give away because you still like them even though they don't look the best or are not really fit to be worn.

So if you are in a rush, with no time to think, or things are in the wash, somethings missing...you just grab whatever comes to your hand and run.

And pray you don't bump into anyone important.

~~~~

If you think about it, words are kind of like clothing.

We have all kinds of words in the closets of our minds.
The good, the bad and the ugly.

Usually the words that we use are nice, good, wonderful.
Indeed.

We choose them wisely when given the luxury of time.

We use them to inspire.
To impress.
To impart.

Words can be awesome.

But then there are those times when things get a little crazy.

Times when there's no time to think and you just kind of grab at whatever words may be in the closet.

Like the time you stubbed your toe.
Or your shin, your elbow, your eye.
(can you stub your eye?)

Like the day that car swerved in front of you, nearly scratching your new car.
Or the time you missed that appointment you've been waiting months for...

Suddenly all kinds of words come flying out!
The ones you didn't even realize were in the closet.
The words you tsk tsk when hearing someone else say...

Where were those hiding?
Where did I pick that one up from?

Uh oh.

~~~~

Lesson learned that fine day:

It's all about what's in your closets.
Removing all the shmutz and filling them with only beautiful garments.

So no matter what, no matter where, no matter when...

You will always be caught well dressed.

McMofes

The Shliach in Westwood, CA, Rabbi Dovid Gurevitch, says that his family is close to the lady that was pulled over by the police officer in the following story (I think it was put into story form by Rabbi Tuvia Bolton):

Many people have gotten out of receiving a traffic ticket using all sorts of excuses. But no one ever had a better excuse than the woman from Crown Heights who was pulled over by a N.Y.C. traffic cop. Standing outside her open car window and watching her fumble for her license, the police officer caught sight of a picture of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, R' Menachem Mendel Schneerson ZT"L, in her open purse.

"Excuse me, Ma'am," he asked, "are you one of the followers of this Rabbi?" She replied that she was.

"Well, in that case I'm not giving you a ticket." He closed his ticket book. She looked up at him surprised.

The policeman smiled and said, "Okay, I'll tell you why. It's my favorite story, but I haven't told it to many Jewish people, in fact, I think that you are the first." He raised his voice over the din of passing cars.

"I used to be in the police escort that once a week escorted the Rabbi to the Montefiore Cemetery (where he and his predecessor, R' Yosef Yitzchok Schneersohn ZT"L, are interred). I got to know some of the young men who accompanied the Rabbi, and I learned a thing or two about Hasidim. They are very friendly people and we talked a lot while the Rabbi was inside praying. They used to tell us all about the greatness of the Rabbi and how he tries to help people all the time. I was standing there with some of my buddies and I half-jokingly asked if the Rabbi helps non-Jews also.

"'Sure,' they said, 'The Rebbe helps anyone who asks. Why? Do you need something?'

"Later, in private, I told one of the young men, that my wife and I had been married for nine years with no children, and one week ago the doctors told us that we had no chance. We had spent a lot of money on treatments, seen all sorts of big professors, we were running around like crazy for the last six or seven years, and now they told us that they tried everything and there is no more hope. You can't imagine how broken we were. My wife cried all the time and I started crying myself.

"So this young man tells me, 'Listen, the next time that you escort the Rebbe to the cemetery, stand near the door of his car and when he gets out, ask him for a blessing.' And you know, that's just what I did! The next time I was in the escort, I stood by his door and when he got out I said to him, 'Excuse me, Rabbi, do you only bless Jewish people or non-Jews too?'

"I'll never forget how the Rabbi looked at me - like I was a good friend! He said that if he can, he tries to help anyone who asks. So I told him what the doctors said, and he told me to write down on a piece of paper my name and my father's name together with my wife's name and her father's name, so he can pray for us. I did it, although I did think it was funny writing down my father and father-in-law's names - real heavy-duty Irish names. But I did it and you know what? In a short time, my wife was expecting and nine months later she gave birth to a baby boy! The doctors went crazy, they couldn't figure it out, and when I told them that the only difference was a Rabbi's blessing, they just scratched their heads. Wow! It was unbelievable!"

The cop's face was truly glowing at this point. "But here comes the best part. Do you know what we called him? What name we gave our baby boy? We called him 'Mendel' after the Rabbi. Can you imagine? The only Irish 'Mendel' in the neighborhood - probably in the world! At first my wife didn't like the name because it didn't sound American. Hey, it doesn't even sound Irish! But I said, No! We're calling him Mendel!

"Of course, our parents objected when they heard the name. They said, 'With a name like that, all the kids will be cruel to him. Why make the kid suffer for no reason?' But they're missing the point. When he comes home and says that the other kids called him names and beat him up because he has a Jewish name, I'll tell him that I want him to learn from those other kids how not to behave. They hate the Jews for no reason, but you should love the Jews, you should help the Jews. You just tell them that without that Jewish Rabbi called Mendel you wouldn't be here at all, and then maybe they'll start thinking differently too!"

G-d Watch

In 1896, Nathan Birnbaum was the ninth of 12 children born to Louis and Dorothy in New York City. His father was a substitute cantor at the local synagogue but did not work very often. During the flu epidemic of 1903, Louis had his chance to earn some real money but contracted the flu and died. Nathan, or Nattie, as he was known to his family, started working after his father's death, shining shoes, running errands and selling newspapers.

Nathan -- later to become known as George Burns, arguably the greatest straight man of 20th-century American comedy -- was 7 years old at the time. He and three buddies on the Lower East Side of Manhattan formed a singing group called the Pee Wee Quartet.

At the time, there was a big department store in New York called Siegel & Cooper that sponsored an annual picnic, and the highlight was an amateur contest with talent representing all the churches in New York City.

Around the corner from George Burn's home was a little Presbyterian church, and it had no one to enter the contest on its behalf, so the minister asked these four kids to represent his church.

That Sunday, in a New York park, these four Jewish kids, sponsored by the Presbyterian Church, sang in the competition and won first prize. The church received a purple velvet cloth, and each of the children received an Ingersoll wristwatch worth 85 cents.

Young Gorge Burns was so excited he ran home to tell his mother. When he arrived there, she was standing on the roof hanging out the washing. He rushed up to her and said, "Mama, I don't want to be Jewish anymore."

His mother looked at him calmly and asked, "Why not?"

He said: "I've been a Jew for seven years and never got anything; I was a Presbyterian for one day and I got a watch..." And he held out his wrist to show his mom.

Wise in the ways of the world, his mother glanced at him and calmly said, "Nathan, my bubbale, first help me hang up the washing, then you can be a Presbyterian."

George Burns concluded the episode: "While I was hanging up the washing, some water was dripping from the wet clothes, running down my arm and penetrating inside my watch. It stopped working, so I decided to become a Jew again."

So, if you know someone who might be feeling like George, and you have a watch, you might be able to change a life!

Love Everyone

In 1947 the Rebbe went to Paris to bring his mother, Rebbetzin Chana, to America. The Rebbe spent several months there. The Rebbe went to an eatery or grocery store, and after ascertaining that it was up to his standards in kashrus, became a regular customer. The Rebbe also introduced himself only as "Mendel."

Before leaving for America, the Rebbe thanked the owner for everything. The owner said "You paid for everything you took, why the need to say thank you?" And the Rebbe answered that it's the mentschleche thing to do. Then the owner mention something he read from the Chasam Sofer, and the Rebbe said that he didn't remember seeing anything like that written in CH"S. Then the Rebbe said "Mir vellen zich vayter zen (we'll see each other again)."

In 1969, the owner fell ill, and his son visited the Rebbe and asked for a bracha. The Rebbe gave him a bracha and said "Mir vellen zich vayter zen."

(According to a trusted source, the man's doctor asked him what his connection to the Lubavitcher Rebbe was, and he answered I don't even know who that is. So the doctor said, "well, his office called and suggested I give you the medicine you're taking.").

When the man was well, he made a point ti come to the Rebbe to say thank you, and the Rebbe brought up the Chasam Sofer and said, "Although in Paris I told you I didn't think it was written, since then I have found a copy of the CH"S that does have it."

The end.

What's the point of telling such a story? The miracle of remembering what was said twenty years earlier? I don't think so. The reason the story is told is b/c it shows outstanding Ahavas Yisroel. One of the ways to show someone that you like them is to show them that you listen when they talk. Someone confides in you and they tell you they're very sad b/c their goldfish is really sick. The next time you speak, you ask about the weather, etc., and you don't mention Goldy, you're showing that you weren't even listening.

I was sitting at the Shabbos table with a bunch of bochurim (and a bunch of broccoli) and someone said to the person sitting next to him, "Can you pass the soda?" After a minute, a kid at the other end of the table got up and took the soda and brought it to the person who asked for it. That was beautiful. He wasn't asked, but he heard that someone needed something, so he got it for him.

We need to hear when people ask for help, even if they don't use the word 'help', even if they aren't screaming, and even if they aren't calling our name. And when we do hear, we have to listen.