The Holy Temple Inside You | Leah Rosenfeld

[00:00:00] Speaker A: Uh. [00:00:00] Speaker B: 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 JLI podcast. Over 2,000 years ago, the holy Temple in Jerusalem was destroyed. And ever since, the Jewish people have prayed toward its direction, visited its only remaining wall, and mourned its loss. But why? Why does a building that hasn't stood for so long still carry so much significance in our lives today? In this 2019 talk, Jewish educator Leah Rosenfeld takes us on a walk through tour of the spiritual temple within each of us, revealing why, even after all this time, it continues to shape who we are. Let's dive in. [00:01:06] Speaker A: The typical story of the Jewish nation is we fought, we won, let's eat. That's the story of Hanukkah, the story of Purim, the story of Passover. It's all revolving around celebration, positivity and light. And then we have a little variance that occurred this past Sunday. This past Sunday, we commemorated the 9th of of, which is the national Jewish day of mourning. And it actually was on Shabbat, but because we don't fast on Shabbat, it was pushed to Sunday. And the 9th of of concludes a three week period of mourning. There's many tragic things that occurred on the 9th of, of, beginning with the sin of the spies, with when Moses sent the spies to scout the land of Israel and they came back with a negative report. Thus resulted in 40 years in the desert and many, many deaths of the Jewish people every single year. But most famously, the reason why we fast is because of the destruction of the two holy temples on this day and 2,000 years later, 1952 to be exact, we still mourn, we fast, we commemorate this destruction. Why? Why do we still commemorate this disaster? To most opinions, this occurred in 70 CE. So we're talking almost 2000 years and we're still rehashing and discussing and learning about it. Judaism in general focuses on positivity, on light, on joy. If you look at most of the classes on your roster, you'll see reframing your paradigm, focusing on happiness, on positivity, on. And yet, for three weeks every single year, we go back to this period of destruction and talk about it and learn about it and think about it. Why. So in an incredible, fascinating look at this concept, the Lubavitcher Rebbe, quoting the Rakat, Trevor Gowen tells Us. What if it's not about commemorating the past? What if it's not mourning something that was something that happened, but we're actually discussing something current, something that's happening right now, right here at this moment in our lives. The temple's destruction is an ongoing event. It's not something that was destroyed thousands of years ago. And we're still mourning it and we're still talking about it because we hope that the mourning of 2000 years ago is going to inspire our desire for it to be rebuilt. But actually the Talmud says ah, which means one who does not build the holy temple in his days, it's as if it was destroyed in his days. What does that mean? You know, we're talking 1952 years. There were many great righteous holy people who lived during this time period. Are we going to say that they destroyed the holy temple? It's as if they destroyed the holy temple because it wasn't built during their days. But actually this is an individual mandate. Each of us personally have to spend every moment thinking about how can I rebuild the holy Temple? We have to envision, as if we are actually witnessing at this moment this holy temple, this edifice, the most important structure in Jewish life going down in flames. And the Rebbe says, if we would envision it, any Jew who would have seen, who would have been there at that moment when this edifice was going down in flames, the most important home, even if they had a heart of stone, they would have been moved. So we're not commemorating something that happened 2,000 years ago. We are reminding ourselves of our responsibility, of our mandate to rebuild. So how do we actually rebuild the holy temple? We'll dial it back to the first century ce shortly before the destruction. The Spatians aren't, he was a general, he was the Roman general at that time. And his troops brutally conquered the north of Israel, eradicated all resistance. And during this time there was a major civil war going on in Jerusalem. And thousands of Jewish people were not killed by the Romans, they were killed by their fellow Jews. Because long before this happened there were, there was speculation. So three wealthy Jews donated huge storehouses of flour, oil, wood that was enough to last even with the Roman siege, 21 years. But there were, of course there's a couple of Jews, there's a few opinions and there were zealots amongst the Jews who did not appreciate the sages desire to go about this in a peaceful way. They felt that they should go out on a full on war. So what they did was they burned down these Storehouses condemning all the Jewish people to starvation. If you read the Lamentations on Tisha, uh, bav, this is part of the things that we speak about. There was no food. They created an internal siege of Jerusalem. They wanted to force the sages into an all out war. The greatest sage of that time, his name was Rabbi Yochanan Ben Zakay. And he realized that something had to be done. He saw, he understood, he had the foresight to realize that Jerusalem would be destroyed. And there was this need to transplant the center of Torah scholarship to another space. Why? Because this, only this would ensure the survival of Torah study after Jerusalem's destruction. So he devised the plan. Remember, there's this internal siege. How will he get out? He feigned death. There's no place to bury in Jerusalem. His disciples carried him out, and as soon as he got out of the city walls, he went straight to the 10th of Vespasian, the Roman general. And he entered and he said, you, Majesty. And Vespasian looks at him and says, you're deserving of death on two counts. Because if I am the emperor, uh, I'm not the emperor, and you called me the emperor and that's deserving of death. And if you do think I'm the emperor, then why didn't you come to me until now? So Rabiochanan looks at him and says, you have to be an emperor because otherwise the destruction of the holy temple wouldn't be given into your hands. And I didn't come to you until now because the Zealots didn't allow me out of the city. And as they're speaking, they, a messenger, uh, comes and tells Vespasian that the Roman general Nero passed away, died, and he was appointed the emperor. And of course, this shocked him. And he realizes that this man standing in his presence must be divinely inspired. And he says, I'm willing to give you anything you want. So what did Rab Yochanem Ben Zakay ask for? Many would think he asked for Jerusalem, but he did not. He asked her three requests, the primary one being, give me Yavneh and its scholars. Give me the center to rebuild Torah study and where the Sanhedrin, the main, uh, assembly and the scholars could thrive in Torah study. There were many, many sages at that time who were disappointed with this request. They felt that he should have asked for Jerusalem. But Rab Yochanan Ben Zakay understood that more important than an edifice, than a building, than a structure, than a holy temple, was a spiritual center of continuity of A deep personal relationship between a Jew and his God through Torah study, through performing the mitzvot, through kindling our inner temple. In the Talmud, it says that throughout exile, God gave us many temples. And these are the synagogues, the houses of study. That's where the divine presence rests. But clearly the divine, you know, God is everywhere. So what makes these places difficult, different? What made the holy temple different if God is everywhere? Because it was a revealed expression of godliness. It was obvious that Hashem was found there. You could almost touch God in the holy temple there. It's apparent. Around Friday night, around our Shabbat table, my husband shares a few words, and then all the guests share something that inspired them that week, or a Torah thought, or they can take on a mitzvah. And if they have an issue doing that, we help them. And one week, my husband shared a story. I don't remember why he shared this particular story, but I remember the story, and I remember what happened afterwards. So there was a great Rabbi, Menachem Mendel of Hodakar, who was a disciple of the Magid. And him and his family were sitting around one evening when they heard a very loud shofar blast. Sounded like the shofar blast that's going to herald in the coming of Mashiach. So my husband says, Rav Menachem Mendel went to the window, opened it up to smell outside to see if Mashiach was here. Why did he have to open the window? Because in his house, it smelled like Mashiach. And now my husband shared the story. Then we start moving along the table, and it gets to Dr. E, and Dr. E says, you know, Rabbi Rebbetzin, if we heard a very loud blast right now, we would have to go outside and smell if Mashiach was here. Because in this house, it smells like Mashiach. What did he see in my home that made him feel like he was in Jerusalem, in the Holy temple? And I was thinking to myself, how could I tap into that more often so that I can pass that on to my children? And I think the moments that he was experiencing was the love and joy infused into this Torah way of life. Dr. E wasn't there while I was preparing for Shabbat, when maybe it didn't smell so much like Mashiach in my house. He was sitting around this beautiful table with the candles lit with delicious food, people sharing words of Torah, where the important relationships in our life take center stage. Hashem's presence, Hashem's, huh? Glory. His divine light was obvious to him. And he was certain that this is exactly what it felt like in the holy temple. For Dr. E. My home in Lake Worth felt like Israel because we build our temples based on the practical choices we make every single day. Rabb Yochanan Ben Zakaya's plea, give me the scholars. Let's transplant this Torah center into a place where we can ensure its continuity was most pronounced for me during the pandemic, when the synagogues were closed, when the houses of study were locked and gated and silenced, when we could no longer just rely on the holy temple. Each of our homes had to actually be transformed into a sacred space if we wanted it in our lives. And it was up to each of us individually to make sure that that holiness penetrated our home, that that, like the temple, there would be a revealed expression of godliness in our spaces. And in the holy temple, there were priests and many people. They were the. They were the elite. They were the servants of God in the most direct way. And many people assumed that they were only involved in lofty tasks, but actually they were also involved in menial tasks for the women in the room, like doing laundry, mopping the floors. These are all part of creating this divine space. We're all priests in our holy temple, and every task we do, even the small ones, have an obligation to transform our home into a place that's beautiful, that's refined, that it's obvious that God rests there. A number of years after the destruction of the holy temple, Rabbi Akiva was walking along with some of the greatest sages of his time, his colleagues. And they passed the site of the holy temple. And as they do, they see foxes coming out of the place, out of the space where the holy of holies resided. And they started weeping. But Rabbi Akiva laughed, and they looked at him in surprise, and they said, akiva, uh, why are you laughing? And he looked at them and said, why are you weeping? They looked at him and said, the place where, in its holiest of times, if a stranger would walk there, he would be put to death. He would be worthy of death. And now there was foxes going there. We shouldn't weep. And he looked at them and said, and that's why I laugh. Because as long as Uriah's prophecy about the destruction of the second temple and the desolation of this holy of space wasn't fulfilled, I fear that perhaps Zechariah's prophecy about the future rebuilding of the third temple may not be fulfilled either. But now that the prophecy of the second destruction, destruction of the second temple has been fulfilled. I know that the rebuilding of the Third Temple will also come true. And with that, they replied, akiva, you consoled us, Akiva. Uh, you consoled us. What did Rabbi Akiva see? There's actually a law in the Torah that we're not allowed to destroy a synagogue. You're never allowed to destroy a synagogue. And God had the chutzpah to destroy the synagogue of all synagogues, the most magnificent ever since, the holiest site of the Jewish nation. We know that it says, magidavar of Lyakov Chukov Umishpat Avi Yisroel, which means what Hashem commands us to do. I guess this is not here. He himself does. He does not give us any mitzvot that he himself doesn't do. And he commands us not to destroy a shul. And then he goes and destroys the shul of all shoals, the synagogue of all synagogues, because there's an exception to the rule. And the exception is you're allowed to demolish a synagogue if you're going to build something even nicer in that space, if you're going to create a more magnificent structure, a holier, more divinely inspired space you can demolish in order to reconstruct. So when Re Akiva saw the destruction of the holy temple, he recognized this must be part of a process. There's allowing something even greater, something even more eternal to happen. Perhaps Rabbi Akiva was able to celebrate destruction because he could see what's going to happen as a result of the destruction, as a lead up to the rebuilding of the Third Temple. And maybe he thought back to the original command. When God first commanded us to build the sanctuary in the desert, he said the words in the Torah. Moses shared this with the Jewish people, which means, make for me a sanctuary, and I will dwell in them. And our sages ask, this is so grammatically incorrect. I will dwell in them. It should say, I will dwell in it. And they answer, because means, I'm going to dwell in every single one of them. The sanctuary was the main space. But why am I dwelling there? Because the Jews are gathered there, and I dwell in the Jews. Each one of us more than the holy temple in Jerusalem, more than the shuls and synagogues that become the miniscule holy temples. Each one of us are a temple. And with the lack of the physical structure, perhaps Rabbi Akiva foresaw that each one of us would be more compelled to build up our own individual temples, our divine space, our spark of God that's burning brightly within Each of us, he realized that through destruction, a major transformation is going to occur that will lead to this eternal rebuilding of the third Holy Temple. And that's why coming off of Sunday, it's so important during the three weeks to understand the services that happened in the holy temple. And we discuss them and we dissect them, and we think about them and we learn about them, not to commemorate 2000 years ago, but because we want to rebuild it ourselves personally in our homes, and then eventually our actions causing the actual rebuilding of the third Holy Temple. So by understanding those services that they did in the holy temple, we're actually going to learn how to build ourselves up into microcosmic temples. Each service in the temple clued us into ways that we can build our inner temple, making ourselves whole and divine and holy and a place where God's presence rests. So today I want to discuss my personal favorite, my personal favorite, my, um, of the services of the items, um, in the holy temple, which is the mizbeach, the altar. The altar represents the heart. There's the inner heart. There's the inner altar, which they burnt the incense on. There's the external altar, where they burnt sacrifices on, representing the inner and outer dimensions of our heart, that which we feel inside and that which everybody around us can see our excitement. That's the external heart. And there's a command. And the command is eishtamed tukar almazbeachbeh, which means a constant fire should burn on the altar. It should not be extinguished. That's. You know, if any of you have been in synagogues where there's a light over the ark, it's commemorating this fire, that constant fire. Which ark had this commandment, the external heart, it always. The external altar. There always had to be a fire there. Our hearts have to burn with a fire, with a passion, with an excitement, with an enthusiasm for godliness, for Judaism, for. For Torah. And we're. Which part of our heart, the external part of our heart. People should be able to see how excited we are, how passionate we are, how enthusiastic we are. There was a godly fire that came down on that temple as well, but would only be complete with the fire created by man. And this is an important part to building our inner temple. Judaism has to be done with excitement, with fire, with passion. Now, an interesting command that it tells us is that that fire should be lit even. Even on Shabbat and even when the Jews are in a state of impurity, which seems like two opposite ends of the spectrum. Shabbat is Holiness and godliness and a state of impurity is the exact antithesis to that. So how does this tell me? What does this tell me about building my inner temple for the divine? Shabbat represents intellect. It represents being withdrawn from the physical. It means I'm involved with holiness, I'm connected to God, I'm involved with positivity. And maybe we might think, when I'm in that state, when I'm in that phase, maybe then I don't need to light my fire. Maybe if I'm doing the right thing, it's enough. And then the sages say, even on Shabbat, you need that fire. Maybe when I'm preparing for Shabbat, for a holiday, for a Simcha, for a Jewish milestone event, can I complain? Can I kfaj? It's hard to clean for Pesach, it's hard to cook for Shabbat. It's not always easy preparing for a wedding. Maybe when I'm involved in a mitzvah, uh, I'm doing the right thing. I also need passion. And our sages tell us, yes, when we're building the temples of the future in our children and those around us. When our children see that a holiday induces joy, that being involved in a mitzvah, uh, creates excitement, that when we're preparing for their bar mitzvah or their wedding, we. We're excited, we're enthusiastic. And not, God forbid, the opposite, then it brings us joy and it surrounds this enthusiasm, surrounds them. And then we know it will continue. Because something that's exciting doesn't get dull. So even on Shabbat, we need to make sure that we have that fire lit. I always tell my Hebrew school teachers, more important than the information that you're teaching our students, I need you to be passionate and enthusiastic about what you're teaching. More than the details that the children are going to learn from the various things you teach them. I need them to feel excited about coming into this space, about coming into Hebrew school. Why? Because then I know that their children are going to come and their children's children will come as well. Another time around our Shabbat table, somebody shared why he switched his kids to our Hebrew school. And he said, because when he was younger, he asked his parents, why do I have to go? Why do I have to? And they said, because your parents went. And his parents said, because his parents went. And he said when his children started asking him the same questions, he realized that it's time to break the trend, switch to a place where the kids are Actually happy and excited to learn. I want to light their fire. Because even with a tremendous amount of knowledge, we cannot ensure the continuity of Judaism to the next generation. They're not excited about it. And that's why even on Shabbat, even when we're involved in doing a mitzvah, even when we're involved in holiness and preparing, our kids should not hear, oh, I can't, this is so hard. I don't want to do this. So stressful. They should hear the excitement, the love and the passion and the fiery enthusiasm when we're involved in doing holy things. But what about the opposite ends of the spectrum? What about when we're in a state of impurity? What about for us when we're feeling disconnected, when we're not feeling. When we feel that we don't need passion? I'm not, um, I'm incapable of having passion actually. It's actually so hard to do the right thing. You also want me to have passion. What if I don't keep it all the time? What if I'm actually struggling with it? I should be passionate about it. Isn't that hypocritical or two faced to be passionate about something that I myself am struggling with? And here the Torah tells us, you want to build a temple regardless of your spiritual situation, you need a fire. And even if you feel like you're impure, and even if we feel like we're not there yet, and even if we feel like we're struggling and we don't have the connection that we're supposed to have, even when I'm in a state of impurity, we have to make sure that we have a fire. Why should I light Shabbat candles if I'm not going to keep the whole Shabbat? Why should I eat kosher meat if I know that I don't keep kosher fully? Why should I go to a Torah class if I'm not necessarily going to implement all the ideas that I'm learning? I'm going to walk away from gossip right now when I know that I might gossip in an hour. I'm impure. Let's face it, I'm not the real deal. I'm not observing everything I'm supposed to. I'm far, I'm disconnected, I'm struggling. But the altar and the temple in Jerusalem needed a fire even when the Jews were impure. And when we're building our inner temples, it's just the same. So what does passion feel like? Well, think of anything that you're passionate about. In your mundane life, the things that you're naturally inclined to. Passion comes from the animal soul. Our animal soul is more passionate, more emotional. Our godly soul is more intellectual. And we have to try to transform the passion of our animal soul into godliness. And when we do that, we're actually creating a stronger, more passionate, more emotional relationship to God than our godly soul could ever achieve without our animal soul's help. And in a fascinating, actually stunning play of words, the maggot of Mesrich takes this, uh, verse, which means a constant fire should be on the altar, and it should not be extinguished. And he tells us, if there is a constant fire, passion, burning on the altar in your heart, then the low, then all the negativity will naturally be extinguished. The bad is extinguished and destroyed. If there's a constant fire, think about anything that you might be passionate about. When you're passionate about it, somehow you manage to overcome all the obstacles surrounding it. Anybody who has a child, we're passionate about our children, and something is blocking in their way. Somebody says something negative to your child, oh, that fire comes out burning. And you make sure that any obstacle surrounding it. You will speak to the teacher, you'll speak to the principal, you'll speak to the superintendent of the school until you resolve that issue. Because when it comes to something we care about, we overcome the obstacles. The negativity automatically is going to be extinguished. The fire. If we have this constant fire burning on our inner altar, then anything that's inhibiting our relationship with God will be extinguished. A teacher could have a great discipline plan in place, but the best discipline plan in place is an exciting lesson. If we have passion, then we are assured that our thoughts and deeds are going to follow, even if it's not constant and even if we struggle and even if we're in a state of impurity, and even if sometimes we feel disconnected, if the fire is constantly burning, if we're creating light, then naturally we're going to be pulled back into the right path, going back to the destruction of the temple. In the Talmud Sukkah, it tells us about a woman named Miriam Bat Bilga. She was apostate. She married a Syrian Greek. This is during the whole story of Hanukkah. And she was actually amongst the people who invaded the holy temple with the Greeks. And it tells us that when she comes into the grounds of the temple and she sees the altar, this altar that we're talking about this heart, that the fire, the passion, she kicks it with her sandal and says, wolf, Wolf, how long are you going to consume the Jewish people's money and not come to their assistance in a time of distress? This is a Jewish woman who was scorned for centuries because of what she did. And yet the Lubavitcher Rebbe comes and explains who she really was. He gives us a paradigm shift into the truth of her story. She was apostized, and she was part of the entourage that entered and invaded the temple. And to our naked eyes, it looked like she was in the ultimate level of impurity. And yet the Rebbe points out that all of her failings were external to her true identity. The soul of the Jew was still burning brightly inside her. And what bothered her as, uh, she approached the altar, this woman who was invading the temple, this altar with the fire burning on it, that represents the passion of the Jew. Why is this altar not protecting the Jewish people? The Rebbe cried as he shared this message. Because sometimes we have such a hard time looking past the dirt. And we come in judgment of others, of people close to us, and sometimes even ourselves. We're so impure. They're so impure. There's no hope. But the outer altar that has the fire burning keeps us focused. And even a woman in the depths of impurity pulled out that passionate, distraught for her fellow Jew. I, I do this program called Roshkodesh Society. It's a JLI affiliate for the women in the room. This is a shameless plug. If you have a, ah, Chabad center in your area that does it, you should definitely sign up. But I once did an experiment with the women in my class where I put in front of each of them in the beginning of the class a pot filled with dirt and a diamond. Um, diamonds from Amazon, obviously. Um, and I put gloves there. And I told them when I, you know, I want you to find what's in this pot. And, uh, I counted to three. They all did it. And I said, okay, at the count of three, tell me what's in the pot. One, two, three. They all said a diamond. And I looked at them and I said, ladies, there's so much more dirt in the pot than a diamond. What do you. Why are you saying diamond? And they said, leah, like, that's what's important in the pot. And I said, exactly. The Hayom yom of the 21st of Thomas. I feel like pulls together a lot of what we just said. It's in your sheets as well. It is written, they shall make for me a sanctuary, and I will dwell within them. Within them. Means within every one of Israel. For within every Jew, the core point of the heart's inner essence is a sanctuary for his dwelling. May his name, may he be blessed. The site of the sanctuary remains sacred even in times of exile and desolation. In Midrash Rabba, Rabbacha says the Shechina, the Divine Presence never departs from the Western Wall. All the desolation is limited to the buildings. So too is the case with the personal sanctuary. Within each of Israel. The foundation is whole, clear and pure. As it is written, I am asleep, but my heart is alert. Medra Shrama comments. I I am asleep for Mitzvot, but my heart is alert for acts of kindness. I am asleep for charities, but my heart is alert to perform them. Every form of spiritual desolation, may God rescue us from such found in the people of Israel, is only in those aspects of the people analogous to buildings above the foundation. The foundation of the individual sanctuary, however, remains in its holy state. That that's relevant to us. It's relevant to the people that surround us in our homes, that sometimes we see the dirt and not the diamond. And it's relevant even to our neighbors, to people that annoy us. Sometimes we have to look past it. So when the Jewish people left Egypt, they were the superpowers of the world. There was not social media then, but somehow everybody understood and knew. Word spread about the plagues that God did in their merit, about the splitting of the sea. They were untouchable, they were indestructible. And all the nations of the world were frightened, scared to come close to them. Except one. His name was Amalik, and he fought the Jews. And since then, we're commanded every single day to remember Amalek, remember what he did to you. And the words it uses is Asher Kabadar. He made you cold on the way. He happened to you on the way, but it also means he made you cold. Why does it say that? Because he called off that indestructible aura, uh, that surrounded the Jewish people at that time. He made it more accessible to fight them. Like the parable is given of a burning bathtub that everybody's afraid to enter. And then one guy deers and jumps in, he gets burned. Amalek was destroyed, but he cooled off the bath for everybody else. And we're commanded to remember him. Why? Why do we want to remember this? Because each one of us has an internal Amalik, the voice that cools off that passion that we've been discussing until now. You. You want to go to A Torah class. You want to light Shabbat candles? You think you're going to keep kosher? Were you holier than thou? You're going to put on tefillin? You know who you really are. You know that's not you. You know that you're being hypocritical. That voice. And, uh, every one of us has it in our own lives based on whatever it is that we're doing. And we're feeling excited and passionate. And sometimes Amalek, um, is inside of us. And sometimes it's the people around us who are trying to quash our passion, desire for growth, or we're in a mode of being the best. I think you're going to leave here after, you know, a bunch of days and feel like you want to be the best version of yourself. And you're going to be excited and passionate about it. And then there's going to be either that internal or external voice that says, really, come on, you know who you really are. That's not. That's not you. And we have to constantly remember Amalek. We have to constantly remember the fire, the passion that he tried to eliminate, that he tried to extinguish. Because the second we lose the passion, second we allow the coldness to enter, it also allows evil to enter. And the interesting thing about the altar with this fire is there was two fires. There was the fire from God that came down miraculously from heaven, but there was the preparation for that, which was the fire by mankind. The fire that we lit elicited this godly fire. Representing when we're creating our own inner temples is we do what we need to do. But then there's a godly response, much more infinite than the one that we created. God responds in a way that is much deeper, much stronger, much more infinite than any of the effort that we put in. So are all temples. And we can't relegate the destruction of the temple to something that happened 1952 years ago. It's a mandate for us, every single moment of our lives, to rebuild our own personal temples, making sure that we, in our personal selves, in our homes, in our communities, there's a revealed space where God is expressed. And even if we do the right thing, even when I'm involved in a mitzvah, uh, even when I'm preparing for a holiday, I need the fire. I need the passion. Nobody around me should feel that this is stressful and anxiety driven because I need the fire. I can't allow Amalek in. And even when I'm in a state of impurity. Even when I'm feeling disconnected feeling, it's not really who I am at the moment. I'm not there yet. I'm struggling. I still need the passion. Because as long as the passion is there, it doesn't matter how big or small the detail is. It's all important. I know, um, I'm very passionate about baking. When I was younger, I always thought I was going to open a bakery and have a brother who still tells me, if you're going to do that, I'll commission it. And one of the things I realized I do that makes absolutely no sense is that when I bake cheesecakes, I go through all nine yards to make sure that the cheesecakes don't have a brown top or are not cracked inside. I do the water bath and the timing and all this other stuff. And why it makes no sense is because I top all my cheesecakes, meaning I put, like, beautiful covering on all the tops. You don't see the top, so why you care? I don't know why I care. I'm passionate about it, and it makes a difference to me. So something that makes no sense, I care about. When we learn Torah, if we're passionate about it, we're not going to do it to the minimal level. We're actually going to do it with more excitement when we do the mitzvot, if we're passionate about it, if we're making sure that fire is lit on our external heart, on our altar, then we won't do it minimally. I remember when, uh, one Sukkot, a wealthy man in our community walked into the synagogue with his Etrog, and he sees my husband's Etrog, and he says, whoa, Rabbi, why did he take the bigger one, the nicer one for yourself? So he said, I didn't take the nicer one for myself. You ordered a $55 one, and mine was a few hundred dollars more. And he couldn't stop laughing. I cannot believe you're so foolish, Rabbi. You paid a few hundred dollars for a lemon? I mean, is it a different mitzvah if you do with the bigger one, the smaller one? Seriously, Rabbi, I thought you were smarter than that. This man happened to be into cars. So my husband says to him, I don't understand. If the point of a car is to get you from point A to point B, why do you need a Porsche? Why not a Toyota Corolla? You're wasting so much money. Thousands of dollars more. What kind of fool Are you? Since Rahuli. But I care about the car I drive in, and my husband says, I care about the mitzvahs that I do when we do mitzvah, because we care about them, then, yeah, we're going to invest in it. When we do acts of kindness with passion, we're not limited to the letter of the law. And I. And I've learned this idea for many years, and I taught it for many years, and I felt passionate about it for many years. But I know when it really clicked internally, when I truly felt this idea of the smaller mitzvah, you know, making this. We don't know what God feels about the big ones and the small ones. It was when my family was on a road trip in Tennessee. And, um, the first night we were there, I was busy making dinner. My husband went out to buy some vegetables for the salad. And when he came back, I looked in the bag and I see there's this little facial wash that I usually use in, uh, my home. And I looked at him like, oh, why did you buy that? And he says, oh, because I noticed that this is the facial wash that you like, and you probably don't like the one in the hotel. So I just figured I'd buy it and like. My heart filled with such a sense of gratitude, and I wondered why. And then this whole passion with relationship with God and the small things matter clicked. Because sometimes the birthday flowers or the anniversary gift, the mandatory things, the bigger things don't mean as much as when you notice the different things that I like. The smaller details, the Rosh Hashanah, the Yom um, Kippur, the Passover Seder, those are all huge, big things. But we don't know about the details that God cares about. That shows him that we're truly passionate about this relationship. Yeah, I want to eat that. But you know why I won't? Because you don't want me to. Yeah, I want to wear that. But you know why I won't? Because you don't want me to. It's the small little facial wash that makes a much bigger difference than the bigger gifts. There was actually a, um, man many years ago who felt, uh, that he was going to cut off his connection to Judaism, not because he wanted to, but because he wanted to marry a non Jewish woman. He was an only son, and he realized that based on Jewish tradition, if he marries her, he's effectively cutting off the line of Judaism, um, for his family. And he felt guilty about it, but he loved this woman and he wanted to Marry her. And he went to different rabbis to kind of assage his guilt or convince him otherwise. And they would rebuke him and tell him how horrible it is, and nothing helped. In fact, the more they told him these things, the more he felt that this was something that he wanted to do. So he decided that he's ready to propose, but he wants to say goodbye to God before he does. So he finds the closest synagogue, goes up to the ark, opens it up, and starts, you know, sharing with God, what should I do? I know this probably doesn't mean so much to you anyway, I'm making a bigger deal of it than it is, but this is what I feel like I need to do. And as he's doing this, the rabbi of the synagogue walks in, happens to be a Chabad rabbi. And he looks at him. It's like a strange sight, a man standing in front of an ark and open. Nobody really does that, except on the days that we read like, what's going on here? And he starts explaining him Astoria. And he ends off with, rabbi, don't even try to convince me out of this. This has been a long journey. I went through many different, uh, rabbis. And it's not going to help. I've heard it all. He says, I'm not going to try to convince you of anything, but I have a suggestion for you. Why don't you go speak or share this, what's on your heart with the Lubavitcher Rebbe? So, Nancy, I have no problem. How do I meet him? Well, he knew he wasn't going to get a personal meeting because that takes some weeks or months at that, at that time. So he told him, the rebbe walks home at this and this time every day from 7:70, which is the rebbe shulem. And he goes past this intersection, wait on the corner, and ask the rebbe your question, or share with the rebbe, uh, your difficulty or challenge. And you figure, you know, what's there to lose. So he's waiting on the corner. And when the rebbe used to walk home from 770from his shul, there was an entourage of yeshiva bachram who would walk from a distance, because you can always learn something from such a saintly, divinely inspired individual. So they would walk from a distance and just watch the rebbe walk home and walk behind him. And they see the rebbe reach this corner, and they see this man approach the rebbe, and he starts talking to the rebbe. And the rebbe looks at him, answers, and does like this. And the man continues this conversation. And he's talking for a little bit. And the Rebbe looks at him deeply. They see into his eyes, into his soul. And the Rebbe goes like this. And then they finish the conversation. The man sits down on the floor and begins to weep. The Rebbe continues on the yeshiva. Vachorem pounce on the vent on the guy and says, what did the Rebbe say? What did the Rebbe say? Took him a few minutes to calm down. And he says, I turned to the Rebbe and said, where is this God who really cares who I marry? Purpose says, where is God? God is in the whole world. And he said, that's exactly my point. If God is in the whole world, he has so much more important things to worry about than who I'm going to marry. There's billions of people in the world. I'm, um, one. You think he really cares? You think he really matters to him? There's hunger, there's illness, there's war. Come on. So the Rebbe looked at him deeply, into his eyes, into his soul, and says, you know why he really cares? You know why it really matters? You know where he really is? He's right inside of you. And everything you do and everything you say and everything you think you're taking him with you. So you think, what's the big deal who I'm marrying? But you're bringing him together with you into that relationship. And then he sat down, he started to cry. And we know the end of the story. But sometimes we think, yeah, what's the big deal? We have that coldness, that Amali coming inside of us. Come, um, on. I'm doing the right thing, or I'm disconnected. I don't need a passion. But he cares. He cares what we put in our mouth. He cares what comes out of our mouth. Just as importantly, he cares what we eat. He cares what we look like. He cares how we dress. He cares if we light the Shabbat candles. Because in that moment, we're showing him I care about this relationship. So we each have. A Jew has God inside of us. We have this temple inside of us. We have this diamond. There's dirt there. There's a lot of dirt there. But what's truly there? The diamond. And we have to make sure that it's always burning with fire. We can't allow external forces or internal forces to cool it down. Each of us have to make sure that our constant fire is lit. Our individual temple. And by the way, each service in the temple and each item in the temple has a corresponding message for how we can better ourselves and become more whole and more divinely inspired. And then we're not only allowing ourselves to be a receptacle for the divine, but the fire burning on our external altar, on our heart, will obviously impact those around us, because this is something that they see, something that they feel, an emotion that they could connect to. Up until circling back. Someone is in our home and they'll hear a blast and it will feel like they're in the holy temple. And they're actually going to have to open the window to smell if Mashiach is here, because to them, in your home, this divine space that we create, it smells like Mashiach. And will also connect to Rabbi Akiva, who laughed with joy when he saw the destruction because he understood what can be created out of that. Because we'll understand this great rebuilding that's going on inside of each of us through making sure that our fires are constantly burning. And through doing that, we'll obviously collectively have the ability, the. The sk. The merit to see the actual rebuilding of the third Holy Temple. May it be speedily in our days. Does anyone have any questions? Because I think I have three minutes. I had a ten minute sign like seven minutes ago or something. What we're asking is how do we, like, if we're truly feeling something inside difficult, how do we not allow that to quash our internal or how do we not allow that to be the external or internal forces that take away that passion and that fire? It's interesting that you're asking that. I just, um. A friend of mine just went through an incredibly difficult tragedy of losing her child. And um, obviously there's, you know, very few pains that. That can actually. You can't even understand it. I can't even under. I mean, with speaking to her very often. I still feel every time I speak to her that it's an out of body experience. I just can't imagine that she's going through this. And, um, recently she had the 30 day memorial for her son. And I was helping her write what she was going to speak about. And she made it very clear to me, I do not want to tell God that I'm accept that I'm accepting this. I am not saying this is okay. I'm passionate about it, but at the same time, I don't want anyone to think that I'm questioning God. One is independent of the other. The tragedy is a tragedy and it's not acceptable and she's not accepting it. But the belief and the passion for Judaism and godliness. In fact, she wants to do things in a passionate way to help restore our, uh, comfort in her family and to get the Third Temple built. So we have the, um, the resurrection of the dead together with her son. And now she believes it fully because she needs to. That's the only way, her only method of survival. So the trauma, while it needs to be dealt with, not ignored, doesn't have to impact the Judaism. And I feel that a lot of times, like children, um, don't know how to compartmentalize. And that's why in Hebrew school I tell my teachers, if they don't like Hebrew school, they're thinking they don't like Judaism. They, they, for them it's one big package. It's not that I didn't like that teacher, it's that I can't stand the system. As adults, we have to learn how to compartmentalize those feelings. Just because I had a bad experience doesn't mean that the whole system is flawed. We live in exile. We live in a time where not everything's going to be clear cut, where there's going to be a lot of external and internal forces that challenge us. And sometimes it's very real challenges. But that shouldn't diminish the fire that's burning on the altar. The fire, the passion is there. And I question, I question a lot, you know, very much. I was actually in Israel when this, when this whole. When my friend lost her child. But I didn't want to. I was with a group of women and I didn't want to tell them about it because I knew that for them that would. I was leading the trip and I didn't want it to diminish their experience. So I kept it to myself. And, um, except, like, I don't know, like towards the end of the trip we were having a conversation and one of the women said, you know, I don't understand, like, I have so many questions for God. Like, how do you have this full belief? You know, you never. So I said, I also have so many questions for God. And I told him, I said, I have a friend who's dealing with an extremely traumatic, unbelievably painful experience. And I questioned God and I tell him, this is not acceptable and I will never accept it and she will never accept it. But at the same time, I fully believe, I know that he knows a lot more than I do. And hopefully that belief will spur action that can actually help the situation and not go into a spiraling, uh, downfall which sometimes happens when we, you know, we get into that mode of I hate everything, I don't like anything, and I'm going to allow my trauma to control me instead of allowing me to control that trauma. I hope I answered your question. Thank you for being such a great audience and, um, enjoy the rest of the retreat. [00:47:48] Speaker B: 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.