Episode Transcript
[00:00:00] Host: As the world around us races forward in search of tomorrow's breakthroughs, join us as we discover the insights that have shaped Jewish life for centuries. Together, we'll study with Judaism's greatest minds, exploring timeless wisdom that continues to guide and inspire. You're listening to Inside the Jewish Mind. A JLI podcast.
Welcome back to another episode. Did you know that the Jewish people make up less than 0.2% of the world's population, yet have earned over 20% of all Nobel Prizes? Pretty amazing, right? It's no secret that the collective Jewish story is one of incredible triumph and achievement. But have you ever wondered what drives success on an individual level?
In this 2023 talk, Rabbi Pinchas Alush shares seven uniquely Jewish ideas and practical habits that can help you shape a more fulfilling and successful life. You'll discover what they are.
[00:01:07] Rabbi Pinchas Alush: I'm asked here to condense the habits of successful Jews into the number seven. So I don't even know if I have seven words, but I will try and emulate God himself. Because we are told in Kabbalah that when God created the world, and then when he created each and every one of us, he too, used seven attributes which reflect also seven different habits that make our creation wholesome and can make our creation, too very meaningful and purposeful. So, without any further ado, I want to go and jump to the very first attribute, kindness, or chesed in Hebrew. This attribute is the first one, maybe because it is also the very foundational one. It's also a foundational attribute for the Jewish people themselves, because our story begins with kindness. You see, the people of Israel are, uh, called the people of Israel because they came from Israel, as you know, from Jacob himself. But Jacob's mother was a woman who embodied kindness. We know that his mother was Rivkah. And if you recall the biblical story, she was given a test, a test that she was not aware of, a test in which she sees the servant of Abraham come to look for a wife for his son Isaac. And there he meets Rebekah, the mother again of Jacob. And Rebecca immediately, uh, welcomes Eliezer, that servant, and offers not just for him to drink, but for his 10 camels to drink. Now, I have to point out, it's amazing to me that in the Torah, you won't find much description about those biblical stories. Like, for example, I wish I could know how, uh, Abraham felt like when he was told to go and sacrifice his son Isaac. No emotion is described. I wish how Joseph felt. To read about how Joseph felt like when he was being thrown into that pit by his brothers. Again, no description whatsoever. Here, on the other hand, in this very story, we have many, many details. We are told first and foremost that Rebecca had to ascend and descend from the well to go and draw water for Eliezer. We are told that Eliezer, that servant, had 10 camels. Who cares how many camels he had? We are told so many details. And we are told three times that she fed those camels. She gave them water. Why? But perhaps here the Torah is trying to teach us. Indeed, the foundational attribute and habit for all Jews to come from that woman is that unadulted kindness. And that is indeed an unbelievable type of kindness. Think about this. I'm not going to go into the zoological facts too much, but. But you know how much camels drink. I mean, camels first and foremost can walk in the Sahara Desert for six to seven months without water. Human beings, after three, four days, we die. In fact, they have that hump on their backs that shrinks. You can see how much a camel has drunk by the size of the hump. It shrinks as it gets thirstier and thirstier. But camels, and I looked this up, apparently, can drink 30 gallons of water in 13 minutes. 30 gallons in 30 minutes. So she was there giving them gallons upon gallons of water, and not just one camel, but all 10 camels. Thus, the Torah is so elaborate to teach us, indeed, you come from kindness, and therefore your habit, your foremost habit, must be this habit of kindness. You know, in this week's portion, this week's portion, Re e, we are also taught about the mitzvah of, uh, tzedakah. It says that when there will be a poor man among you, then you should open up your hands. Now, what does it mean to open up your hands? Obviously, how else do you give charity? Do you open up your foot? What do you do? Of course you'll open up your hands. Why use these words? And there are many commentaries on those peculiar words. One commentary says, because they. Many people believe in kindness. They feel kindness, they think kindness. When it comes to the action of kindness, that's where it stops. Yeah, yeah. I'm kind. I love you. Opening up my hand, that's. That's already too hard for me. But there's a different. A different commentary that speaks of the midrash that says that when people are born, they are born with a clenched hand, right? That's the game we play with babies. We put our fingers in their hands so that they can all of a sudden grasp it very, very harshly. But that when we die, and unfortunately, as a rabbi, I've seen too many deaths, our hands are completely open. And that is to teach us that when we are born, we may think that everything belongs to us, but when we die, we realize that really nothing belonged to us. To begin with, my beloved rabbi, his yacht site was just this past Friday, was a world scholar. He too participated here at jli. His name is Rabbi Adin Evan Israel Steinzel. It's a blessed memory. But he would very often say that you only own what you give. What you take doesn't go with you anywhere. What you give stays in the hearts of the people that you touched. And this is indeed that commandment of Patoach Tiftach. Remember that what you will give when your hands are open is really the only thing that will stay with you forever and ever. And thus again, this commandment of Patoach Tiftah, this commandment to be kind, and indeed it is probably one of the most characteristic traits and habits of the Jew. Think about this, everyone. I know you all go to your seder tables and you always have the Uncle Harry who boasts about the wisdom of the Jew who, uh, is enlisted each and every year on the Nobel Prize winners. We make up so much of the world leadership altogether. And you ask yourself, why is it? And I think again, it is because indeed our foundational trait, foundational habit, has always been giving. And giving. In fact, when God counts us in the desert, you recall he doesn't count bodies, he counts gifts. We had to give a half a shekel. And the Lubavitcher Rebbe comments on this so brilliantly that we gave half a shekel, not a full shekel, even though they could have fundraised much more with a full shekel. And even though it may have been easier for Moses to count four shekels, but why half? Because we have to recognize that without giving, we are only halves. When our half joins someone else's half, that's when we become one. That's when we become wholesome. So that's habit number one. I know we still have six more, so I want to move on. Habit number two again comes from the second attribute, which is gevurah, usually translated as justice. I would call it self control. I think self control comes again as a foundational habit. In fact, in a few portions, from this portion. Actually, next week we'll have the portion of shoftim. Now, there is a commandment in shoftim. The opening commandment is that we shall place judges and police at the Gates of our cities, right? The BAAL Shem Tov, the founder of the Hasidic movement, shed light on this verse and made it so relevant and so accessible. And he said that, no, those judges and those police should not just go on the gates of our physical cities, but they should also go on the gates of our spiritual cities. What are those gates? Our ears, our eyes and our mouths. There too, we should have judges and policemen there too. We should be asking ourselves, is that something that is legal or illegal, ethical or unethical? What I'm about to hear, what I'm about to do, what I'm about to see, what I'm about to say.
You know, one of the great Hasidic stories, that's one of my favorite ones, is the story of Rabbi Levitz Hakov Berdichev. He was asked by a student what is indeed the key to self control. And he responded, well, I don't know. But if you go to this and this person in that village, he will tell you what the key to self control is. Fine. He goes to that person in that village. He knocks on his door. No one answers. He peeks through the window, he sees the guys there. So he knocks on the door again, this time louder. Again, no one answers. And it's cold outside, he's freezing, he's shivering, but no one answers. He knocks again and again. And only after about 20 minutes, half an hour, this man comes to the door and opens it. He says to him, I've been here for 20 minutes. You didn't hear my knocks? I'm freezing. Why don't you answer? And the man who holds the key to self control, according to Rabbi Levi Tchako, Berdichev responds, I just wanted to teach you what self control is all about. Because in life you'll have many, many things, many distractions, knocking at those doors, knocking at these doors, these doors, these doors, these doors. But you are the master of those doors. And you can decide when to open them, if to open them, how to open them, how long to open them. In the words of the Kotzko Rebbe, Rabbi Malachi Mendel Mogensteren, one of the great hasidic masters of 250 years ago, not everything that is thought should be said, not everything that is said should be written. Not everything that is written should be published. Not everything that is published should be read.
Self control is the key indeed, to a healthy being and to a healthy society. I'm, um, reminded of the biography of Dwight Eisenhower. Apparently Dwight Eisenhower would lose his temper quite a bit as a child. And when he was just 7, 8 years old, he tells the story of how, uh, he heard that his siblings were going out at night, and he wanted to go out with them, but his mother didn't let him. It's too late for you. You have to go to sleep. And he ran outside, so livid and so upset. And he goes to his backyard tree, and he starts banging it and banging and banging it, and he banged it so bad that his hands were bleeding. He comes home now, exhausted.
He lies on his bed, and his mother then comes to him, puts some bandage on his hands, and says to him so softly and so lovingly, dwight, I want you to remember tov erech hapaimi gibor.
She quotes that biblical verse, that one who is patient is really much stronger than any strong man out there. And one who can control himself, exercise self control is greater than the conqueror of cities. Dwight Eisenhower heard the message, internalized it, and he then decided to channel his temper to be one of the great generals that American history has known. But this is indeed one of the great secrets of life. Habit number two, self control. Let's go to habit number three. Habit number three is called, in the words of Kabbalah, Tiferet, which is sometimes translated as beauty. I would translate it as harmony, particularly through respect. I'll explain. You see, in every relationship, there are usually two major fundamental elements. The relationship of love, that's why I'm in that relationship, and the relationship of respect. If we want the relationship to succeed. And I want to shed light on this idea by one of the great Talmudic passages that are puzzling to me, because just a few weeks ago, a few months ago, maybe what? A few months ago, we were in this dark period in the Jewish calendar called Seferat ha Omer, the counting of the omer in which we were mourning, if you recall, the death of 24,000 students. We are taught in that passage of the Talmud that 24,000 students of Rabbi Akiva, the legendary Rabbi Akiva, uh, passed away in a plague. What type of plague? The Talmud says apparently was croup. Thank God, today, croup is curable. Maybe back then it was not now. Why did they die? It's a big question, probably unanswerable. But there's a lesson we can learn from every episode in life. And the lesson the Talmud learns, listen to this, Is that they died mi penation.
They did not show respect to one another. Now, you may ask, as the Lubavitcher Rebbe does, one second, these weren't ordinary students. These were the students of Rabbi Akiva. What was Rabbi Akiva primarily known for? For teaching that loving your fellow as yourself is the most important rule in the entire Torah. So now come the students of Rabbi Akiva, and they can't adhere to the teaching of, um, Rabbi Akiva himself. They can't show respect to one another. Your teacher taught you to love one another. And if that's the most important rule, you can't respect each other.
But the idea, friends, is that they actually did listen to Rabbi Akiva. They loved each other, but they loved each other too much. When you love someone too much, you try and change that person out of love. You say to them, well, this is the way you should brush your teeth. This is the way you should dress. This is the way you should talk. Why? Because I love you. If I don't care about you, I wouldn't say anything. But I love you. But love must have boundaries, too. And that boundary is called respect. Think about this. Love and respect are two opposite emotions. When I love someone, I want to hug them. I want to come close to them. When I respect someone, I want to keep my distance a little. I have this all towards that person. The perfect relationship in which is a relationship in which I have love, but I, most importantly, have respect. I allow the person to be. This is perhaps why the Talmud also says that the ideal relationship is when a person can love his spouse like he loves himself, but respects his spouse more than he respects himself. Respect is even more important because, again, it allows the other to be. That is what the ferret is. And it lends us to this idea that, you know, I know everyone speaks to their unity. Everyone needs to be united. Take today in Israel, people are speaking of unity because of the terrible news we hear from there. They even are, uh, speaking about a memshale tachdut, a unity government there. I suggest that we abolish this word in a good way, because what unity means, it comes from the word uni, and it means that you and I have to enter into this melting pot, and we have to lose ourselves in order to find ourselves and then to become one. Let me be a little less me, you be a little less you, and we'll find those common denominators and we'll focus just on that. Uni come or tiferet or respect means harmony. You can be you, I can be me, and together we can harmonize like instruments in one big symphony. That's the essence, I believe, of all relationships, to love your spouse. Or others like you love yourself, but to respect them more than you respect yourself. You know, there was a German philosopher from the 18th century by the name of Hegel who asked an interesting question. I never checked this zoologically, but he asked the question of how do porcupines survive the winters? Because if you think about this, right, all animals, in order to survive the winter, what do they do? They cuddle up, they have to stay warm so they come together. Porcupines can't do that, right? They have these thoughts, they're going to injure one another, so what do they do? And he replied that porcupines figured out a way to find the perfect balance between coming close so that they still warm each other, still staying far so that they don't injure themselves. That's the secret to every successful relationship. Yes, you love, you come close, you bring warmth, but you also know when to step out and say, I'll allow you to be. That's habit three. Let's go to habit four. Habit four is called netzach, sometimes translated as eternity. I would translate it as consistency. Again, going back to my beloved Rabbi, Dean Evan Israel Steinzel, I once asked him, if you had to condense Judaism into one word, which word would you pick? I thought he would say Torah mitzvah. Which word would you pick? Love, Kindness. Well, he told me consistency. And then he went on to say that I believe that the most important question in life is the question of which means. And then what? I said to him, what do you mean, and then what? He says, yes, that's my point. And then what? You see, people achieve great achievements, but what is left from them? People become bar and Bat mitzvah. Do they continue on? Are they consistent with their Jewish journey? People get a diploma in the university. Do they continue their studies thereafter? Or that's where it ends. People get married, can they maintain their marriage? Are they consistent with their love and respect?
The Asma? And then what? And he quoted one of the great Jewish prayers that we say every morning, in which we say Yishtabach and that Ishtabakh prayer concludes with, which means God who chooses the melodies of our songs, Shirazimra. And he quoted the Kotzkara saying, no, no, no, no, no, that's the wrong translation. Shirai zimra does not just mean melodies of our songs. For those who speak Hebrew, you'll also know that it also means the remnants of our songs. Shirayim shel zimra shiyarei Ah, Zimra. Do you know what God really cherishes the leftovers of your songs. You pray great. Can you continue that spiritual high and that divine connection after prayer? Perhaps this is why in the Jewish calendar, after Yom Kippur, the highest day, spiritually we have what Sukkot God says. No, no, no, no. Now you have to translate this into deed, continue that high, be consistent within, and go build yourself a sukkah. This reminds me again of the great Talmudic debate. It's found in the midrash that speaks about what is the most important verse in the entire Torah. I would love to hear your comments. What's the most important verse? I'm sure that some of you would pick opinion number one. And that's the opinion of Ben Zoma, who says, shema Yisrael, hashem Elokinu hashem. The most important prayer here, O Israel, God is our Lord and he is one. Opinion number two is not that verse, the verse that we quoted before, the verse that says, love your fellow as yourself, Leviticus 19:18.
Opinion number three is an opinion of a man named Ben Nanas. And he says, no, the most important. Listen to this. The most important verse in the entire Torah, uh, is a lamb you should bring in the morning, and the lamb you should bring in the afternoon.
Where is that found? It's found in the sacrifices of the day and the times of the temple. Indeed, a lamb we should bring in the morning, lamb should bring in the afternoon. By the way, that's why we pray twice, uh, three times today. The evening prayer is an additional prayer, but one in the morning, one in the afternoon, based on these lambs that we brought. But one second. Hello? Is that really the most important verse? Shema Yitzchell sounds much more spiritual, intense, much more ethical, moral. A lamb speaking about sacrifices that we haven't had in 2,000 years. But the answer, friends, is because Ben Nanas understood that the key to Judaism is repetition, consistency. It's not just doing a good deed once, it's doing it time and time again. Because God chooses the remnants of our songs. This is why, by the way, there's a halachic implication to this. This is why the Rambam says, maimonally says, that if you have a thousand dollars, it's better to give a dollar each day a thousand times a thousand days than a thousand dollars in one lump. Why? Because when you give consistently, then you indeed inherit that quality, that habit of giving. There is nothing indeed more important than consistency in Judaism, and thus it is the most important verse in the Torah. Even the sages in that midrash concluded in the name of Ben Pazi. Ben Nanas was right. Judaism in one word again, as Rabbi Steinzaltz put it, is consistency. That's habit number four, Netzach. Habit number five is hod. Hod is usually translated as glory, dignity. I would translate hod as letting go, Simply letting go. Now, what I mean by that is I want to remind you the story we all studied just a week or two ago, when we prepared for the 9th of AV, the saddest day in the Jewish calendar. And the story that usually resurfaces each and every year is the story of Kamsa and Bar Kamsa, which is a story, according to the sages, that it stands at the root of the destruction of the temples. This. This is because of this story, the temples were destroyed. What's the story about? You recall Kamtsam, Bar Kamtsa, there was a man who told his servant, go and please and invite for me my dear friend Kamtsa. The man didn't hear right, and he invited his other friend, Bar Kamtsa. But that other friend was actually an enemy. Bar Kamsa shows up to his house, to his dinner, his meal, whatever he was having. And the host now is mad. He sees his enemy. So he tells his enemy, get out. Remember that story. Get out. He doesn't want to get out. Say, I'll pay you for half of your meal. No, get out. I'll pay you for your entire meal. Get out. I don't want you here. The sages remained silent. Eventually he went to report on the Jews against the Jews to the Romans. And that's how the destruction of the temple came about. I'm skipping some details because I want to get to the point. And the point, in my eyes of this story is that the sages are trying to teach us that here there was no letting go, not on the part of the host. You could have just said, you know what? Yeah, he's my enemy. Maybe today he's a changed man. I can let go of the past. Maybe I'll rekindle my relationship with him. There was no letting go on, um, behalf also of this man saying, no, fine, I'll leave for the sake of peace. This whole story shouts no letting go.
And that's what brings about the destruction, not just of the temple, but there, I say, also of the human being. Maybe this is why each and every night before going to sleep, it's one of my favorite prayers that opens up the bedtime Shema prayer, which is the prayer of Ribonoshel olam, areni mochel v'salayach lechol mishaykhi soti. Master of the universe. I forgive everyone that may have hurt me. And we continue in this life, in previous life, and all sorts of ways. Why? Because Judaism understands that you can't really embrace the blessing of the next day if you haven't said goodbye to the shackles of the past. You cannot say hello, freedom. If you do not say goodbye. Hatred. That is what Hod really refers to. You know, I grew up in South Africa, and I'll never forget that day on February 11, 1990, in which Nelson Mandela was freed from jail after 27 years in this terrible place in Robben island, alone in his cage. And when they asked him, so, how do you feel, Nelson Mandela? Uh, you're a free man now. Will you take revenge? Are you upset that the people imprisoned you? And he replied, no, because resentment, remember that line, resentment is like drinking poison and hoping that your enemy dies from it. Again, I repeat, resentment is like drinking poison and hoping that your enemy dies from it.
Resentment means that you are not letting go. And when you don't let go, you know who suffers the most? You. You are drinking the poison. You hope that because you're upset at the other, the other will die from that upset mood. But rarely, you are dying from it more. Or as they say, hatred hurts the hater the most. Nelson Mandela, he didn't live his life like that. Ah, had the privilege of meeting him even as a child, going to shul on Shabbat. And he appeared to be a man indeed that knew that habit of Hod of simply letting go. He had asked about the Jewish people, and he told me, even as a young child, my friends, oh, I love you Jews. And he taught us also that he learned that Shabbat needs to happen for every religion, and that's why he loves Jews. But that's a side note. But again, I think Khod means to let go. And I dare quote Rabbi Yisrael of Salant, who was the founder of the Musa movement. Rabbi Yisrael of Salant was asked, why did he found the Musa movement, which is a movement that works on people's character traits. And he said it was because of a story. It's quite an astonishing story that occurred in my own little town, Salant, where, uh, I came from. What's the story? There was a shoemaker in my town in Salant that became very, very successful to the point that he became, at one point, the wealthiest Jew in Salant. What happened back in the day, this is 100, 150 years ago, the wealthiest Jew daughter marries her, the son of the rabbi. That's how it worked. So indeed, they made the shidduch, they matched them, fell in love and planned, uh, a wedding. Here is the daughter again of the shoemaker, the wealthy shoemaker, let's call him Yankel, who's getting married now to the son of the rabbi of Salant. The problem was that this wealthy shoemaker had a competitor, another shoemaker, who was, as they say, he was unsuccessful, to say the least. But that wasn't the worst of his problems. The worst of his problems was he was tremendously jealous of Yankel the shoemaker, who become the wealthiest Jew in town. And he said, I'm going to take my revenge. I'm going to show this guy who he is. How dare he thinks he's such a big shot. And he waits for the wedding now of Yankel's daughter with the son of the rabbi. The wedding day comes, the chuppah ceremony begins. And all of a sudden, that jealous shoemaker comes to the chuppah stage, takes out his shoe and says to Yankel the shoemaker, can you fix my shoe? Let's not forget who you are. You're a simple shoemaker. You think you're a big shot. You're a good for nothing, a simple shoemaker. Please fix my shoe. Yonko, the father of the bride, he's so insulted that he faints.
So they asked Rabbi Yisrael of Salant, is that why you created the Musa movement? Because of those terrible people that are jealous and they do terrible things like that? He said, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. Haters will be haters.
I created the Muslim movement because of Yankov. But Yankov did nothing wrong. Yankov did nothing wrong. But why is ego, his ego, so fragile and big that he needs to be so insulted to the point that he faints? Come on, Yanko, get over it. So what? And that is indeed what it means to let go. I don't let my ego get in the way. I, um, realize that not only is everything from God, but everything is a blessing from God. And therefore I'm able to say, rebono shel olam.
This refers also to another one of my favorite prayers. It's a prayer with which we conclude our Midah, uh, each and every day. The prayer that says, God, please ensure that my mouth does not speak bad. And then we continue to say, may my soul, my being, be as dust to everything. It's not about me, it's about you. And your blessings, Hod. Letting go number six. Two more to go. Number six. Yesod. Yesod is usually translated as foundation. And I'd like to tweak that a little and translate it rather as the foundational attribute to everything, and that is vision. I was just with the Sinai scholars, and I shared with them the story of these three people on the side of the street doing the exact same thing made of the story. It's a very cute story about these three people. Again, what were they doing? They. They were carving a rock. And someone passes by them and tells the first guy, what are you doing? First guy says, well, can't you see I'm carving a rock. He goes to the second guy again, he's doing the exact same thing. What are you doing? He says, I'm making a living.
Fine. He goes to the third guy who's doing the same thing. He says, what are you doing? He says, I'm building a palace.
Herein you have three perspectives to life. You know, it's interesting because in this week's portion, we read about re e'anokin o 10 lif n'chemayom beracha uklala. God telling us through Moses that, see, I have placed before you blessings and curses. Now, of course, the commentaries asked a simple question. We know that the Torah is very careful with its words, see. Why couldn't God just jump to the rest of the words, I have placed before you blessings and curses? What does that mean to see? And the answer is, because blessings and curses very often depend on our ability to see, see? The optimist will see the cup half full, and of course, the pessimist will see the cup that's half empty. But let me share with you a story. The Jew is unlike the optimist or the pessimist. You know why? Because the cup is never half full. The cup is always full. It's half with water and half of it is oxygen, even nitrogen, and many other things. So it's always full. And when you see a cup that's always full, you can only see blessings. Uh, it depends on our eyesight. They say that in Chinese, there's an interesting word, a word that apparently is pronounced why Qi? Why she is an interesting word, not just because it means crisis, but because it's a combination of two other Chinese words. Does anyone speak Chinese here? No? Okay, I can invent anything. So Y means apparently danger, and chi means opportunity. And that is because in every crisis, indeed, there is a danger and there's an opportunity. Depends what we see. We can focus on the danger, but that's not the Jewish way. We can focus on the cup that's completely full, and then we'll see the opportunity. You know, there's a Hebrew word like this. The Hebrew word is also the word for crisis. What's the word for crisis in Hebrew? Mashber.
But mashber, uh, means something else. You see, in biblical Hebrew, mashbeer refers to the stool on which pregnant woman gave birth. Why? Because again, in every crisis, there's an opportunity waiting to be born. In every mashbeer, there's a birth broiling, and it's up to us to just see it and then eventually actualize it. That is what Yesod really means. You know, I want to speak about that vision as it refers to ourselves, because I believe that unfortunately we live in a generation that doesn't have that vision, that is 2020, that doesn't dream much, that doesn't believe in ourselves too much. You know, it's interesting because 50 years ago, and I have no scientific research to prove this, but 50 years ago, if you would stop someone in the street and you would say to them, tell me, what's your big dream in life? What's your big aspiration in life? You know what that person would say? I want to be the biggest billionaire. I want to be a biggest scientist. I want the biggest doctor. Today, try this. Stop someone in the street and say, what's your big dream in life? They'll say, I want a suburban house, a suburban car, and suburban spouse. What happened to the big dreams? This is perhaps why the Talmud, an attractor of brachot, says that a person who doesn't dream in seven days is considered to be cursed. Now, what does that mean? Everyone dreams. We all go through the Rem movement in which we dream. But what that really means is a person who doesn't have an aspiration, a new dream, a new goal in seven days is cursed. That's a cursed life indeed. I think that's what all greats had in common. They knew that they had those big dreams, and they let nothing stop them from achieving them. That's what Yesod is all about. And when we see that greatness, that palace in ourselves, we'll then see it in others too. I think this was the secret of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, who saw that palace, who saw that leader, who saw those big dreams in every single one of us. My beloved rabbi. Again, I'm going to quote him again. Adin Ewan Israel Steinzel often told the story, and I heard it from him many times. Of how he came to the Bavati rebbe in the 1980s. And he was working on three separate projects. Project number one was his educational institutions. Project number two was his Talmud that he opened to the rest of the world. First one ever trailblazer. Project number three was Russian jewelry. And he said to the Rebbe, look, my plate is too full. I can't do this anymore. Which project should I take off my plate? And the Rebbe said to him, actually, none of them. And let me add a fourth project. I need you to help the educational institutions in Israel.
Rabbi Stanz was astounded. But, of course, as a true Hasid, he listened to the Rebbe. And he was able, miraculously, to fulfill all of those four projects.
And he concluded, you see, the Rebbe believed in me more than I believed in myself. But that is because the rebbe saw the infinite potential in everyone. He had that vision. He saw that palace, even when sometimes we could not see it. That is Yesod. And I will end with the seventh habit, which is malchut.
Malchut is usually translated as kingdom. Um, brings down the light of God to this world. But I would translate it, go a little bit further and say, malchut is the habit of devotion to deed, devotion to action. Because in Judaism, we are not what we think. I know Rene Descartes said, cogito ergo sum. I think, therefore I am. That's not what Judaism says. We are not what we eat like. The healthy ones among us may say, we are not what we feel. Certainly. Who are we? I act, therefore I am. We are what we do. In the words of the Rambam, Macharel, masim achapeu lot nim shachim ale vavot. After our actions, our hearts follow. Because the most transformative action is action itself. When we act, when we do what we do, we become that which we do. What we do. I think, uh, one of the great proofs to that in history is Oskar Schindler. Famous Oskar Schindler. Schindler's List. Oskar Schindler wasn't a nice guy. Oskar Schindler was a womanizer, business profiteer. Was a member of the Nazi party.
And he didn't necessarily like Jews. But then he heard that Jews were free labor. So he decided to get some servants, Jewish slaves. But then, slowly but surely, the more he helped Jews, the more his heart changed. Eventually, he decided to build more and more factories. Even though he did not need them to save Jews. At the end of the war. Oskar Schindler was penniless. He was wanted. But he was as devoted to the Jews and to saving them as possible. He was eventually coined as a hasidu mota olam. In fact, if you go today, Yad Vashem, you'll see him. His tombstone, I believe. And you'll see a great statue of him. Why? Because the Jewish people understood that you are what you do. And we saw that in Oskar Schindler. That the more he did good, the more he became good. Even though at first he was not that way. You know the great story of the Altar Rebbe? The founder of the Chabad movement, Rabbi Schnel Zaman of Liadi. Who once came to the Miser of the town to ask for charity, asked for tzedakah. And they told him, you're going to waste your time. He's not going to give you anything. He knocked on his door, and the man answered. He said, what do you want? I don't give charity. Get out of here. He says, please. At least something. He insisted. Insisted. Eventually, the man threw a penny towards him as if he was some dog. But the Altar Rebbe was not insulted. Remember, zero ego. And he continued. And he said, you know what? Thank you so much. That means a lot to me. And I was so touched that he wasn't hurt by his throwing a penny. That he came and said to the altar, you know what? Let me give you another penny. And that continued for quite a while. Until the man gave him the full sum that the Altar Rebbe was seeking. People were stunned. How did you do it, Altar Rebbe? The Altar Rebbe said, that's what it says. He was never given the opportunity to give, to do. Once I gave him that opportunity and thanked him for it. He became his deed. And then he couldn't just. He couldn't stop giving. He became a giver. The Miser became a giver. That's really what malchut truly means.
And I would add that famous Talmudic passage about Akavya Ben Mahalel. Akavia Ben Mahalel was not necessarily a known Talmudic sage. He came from the first or second century. But Akavya Benahal, as he was dying, as he was on his deathbed. His son came to him. And his son said to him, abab, uh, kodalai abba. Father, please say something good to your friends about me. So that I can be accepted in the academy. And his father said, sorry, I can't. He says, well, uh, is there anything wrong about me that you don't like, you got to tell me, father, you die. And his father said, no, Your actions will bring you close and your actions will make you distant. It all depends on your actions. That, my friends, is the Jewish view of life. Those seven habits are habits that indeed stand at our very, very, very foundation. And I repeat them. Number one, kindness. Number two, self control. Number three, harmony through respect, not love. Harmony through respect. Number four, consistency. Five, letting go. Six, vision. Seeing the soul in everything. The infinite potential in everything. And number seven, devotion to deed. You know, I want to conclude because I just came back from a funeral yesterday of a beloved member of our community. Died too soon, dare I say.
And I was quite touched by the man and by his family because of their, uh, tremendous kindness, not just towards our community, but towards the Jewish people altogether. And I realized that with every eulogy that was recited about this man, no one spoke about his moods. And let me tell you, he had some moods. No one spoke about his Ferraris and Porsches because he had a Ferrari and a Porsche. No one spoke about his travels in the world because he visited every continent. But everyone, everyone, without exception, spoke about his deeds. And that led me to conclude that, which Judaism knows, that eventually we too will be judged by deeds.
To conclude with Arnold Palmer, maybe uncharacteristically, but Arnold Palmer was once asked, how come you're so good at golf? He said, you know what? It's funny. I'm not so good. I'm lucky. Then he paused and he said, but funny, because the harder I work, the luckier I get.
That is the key. The harder we work and are devoted to deed, the luckier and the more blessed we, our, uh, surroundings and the world all together will get. Thank you so much.
[00:37:45] Host: That's all for today. Thanks for listening to Inside the Jewish Mind, a JLI podcast. Be sure to join us every week for fresh insights and timeless Jewish ideas. As always, stay curious, keep learning, and we'll see you next time.
