Come On Baby, Light My Fire!

From Imrei Pinchas, Sha'ar Toras Adam #79, from the amazingly awesome book "Bnei Avraham Ahuvecha: Gerim in Chassidic Thought" by the amazing and inspiring A Simple Jew, aka Dov ben Avraham ...

"Before his geirus, a holy spark falls and burns inside a ger until it compels him to complete his geirus. He is not given any choice in this matter. Only after his geirus is the ger given free choice."

For more deliciousness on kabbalah and the convert's soul, check out this AskMoses posting that I cited back in 2008 on my blog that says,

According to Kabbalah, a convert is one who's soul possesses a latent Jewish spark, was born to a non-Jewish mother, and therefore must undergo the process of a Torah conversion in order for the Jewish spark to be actualized as a Jewish soul. This “non-Jew” is born with a potentially Jewish soul, yet it is not revealed at this point or accessible.

Back in 2009, after taking a month off of blogging because a bad experience I had with something in my conversion process, I came back with a vengeance, saying,

I can't change minds or opinions about my character and whether how I present myself on this blog is appropriate for a modern Orthodox Jewish girl, but what I can do is continue what I started. I can't really finish what I started, because it was never meant to be finished (much like the journey in Judaism is a perpetual one). I'm here to tell my story, discuss Judaism, and to light a fire in all of the people who come across these pages. It is not unheard of here at Just Call Me Chaviva for a Jew to be inspired by something and head to shul that week. If I can light that kind of fire in a Jew, then I think I'm doing some serious good -- I'm helping in the eternal effort to remind Jews to be proud of who they are, to be involved, to develop their Judaism.

Light and fire, folks. In 2010, I wrote,

And, you have to remember, the goal of this blog is not money-making: It's people making. The goal here, is to light a fire under all the souls I can.

Since my blog started having a regular readership, my mission and passion and goal was set: Light a fire, find the spark, and blow it up. This is a piece of tikkun olam, folks. When HaShem created the world, according to Kabbalah, there was light that was held in vessels, kelim. But they couldn't withstand the light, so they broke, and the light shattered like shards in all things. Now, we're tasked with gathering the sparks of light back together. 

For me, the convert that brings that holy spark to the beth din and converts is doing some mighty, amazing, beautiful work of tikkun. Wouldn't you agree? 

This does, however, beg the question: What does it mean when someone begins and pursues a conversion and yet never completes it? How do we explain this phenomenon? Food for thought, I think. And I don't presume to have an answer or even a suggestion.

Stay tuned for more goodies from this amazing book. So much inspiration, so many beautiful pieces of Chassidus that make my heart sing. Let me leave you with this one, which makes me smile.

From one perspective, a ger is closer to becoming a tzaddik than a person born Jewish. If a ger continues serving G-d with the same self-sacrifice he exhibited during the geirus process, he will ascend to untold heights. Perhaps this is one reason why gerim are mentioned before those born Jewish in the Al HaTzadikim blessing in the Amidah. -- Rabbi Micha Golshevsky

It's Time to Take a Stand

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, bully meant lover. A sweetheart. A fine chap. How do we know? It derived from Middle Dutch boele, meaning lover, and its first use in the 16th century. As an adjective, it once meant excellent in the 17th century. Bully for you! Bully indeed. And then?

1 to treat abusively
2 to affect by means of force or coercion

What happened?

When I was a kid and eczema began to plague my legs and arms horribly, I became the focus of bullying. I had weird legs, weird sores, weird skin. People didn't want to touch me. I was different. 

When I entered middle school in Joplin, MO, I was taller and larger than just about everyone I knew. I had my first period before everyone else. In home room, my purse was stolen and thrown around the room; I had pads. Every girl goes through it, but I went through it before everybody. I felt out of place, large, big. I spent the second semester of 6th grade throwing away my lunch and drinking only juice boxes. The difference in my 5th and 6th grade bodies is stark. I was different. 

When I was in middle school in Lincoln, NE and at the Belmont swimming pool, a classmate sang the Butterball Turkey theme song to me as I swam. He called, "Beached whale!" And to this day, I don't like to swim, I don't like to be in the water or near it, and I went nearly 10 years without owning a swimsuit. I was larger than other girls my age. I was different.

When I was in seventh and eighth grade, a boy decided that my body was meant to be objectified. He emotionally assaulted me with his inappropriate thoughts, harassed me in class, and his friend prodded him on. We went to the administration, and nothing happened. Nothing ever happened. I had a figure, and I was different. 

For some reason, when I got to high school, I blended in. I was in choir, honors classes, volleyball. I covered my bases in order to survive. But my older brother had bullies -- jocks who thought they were funny -- and those bullies became my bullies. I was associated with different. 

In college, my Jewish neshama burned bright and woke me up. I felt relieved, excited, eager. People who I'd considered friends began bullying me about being interested in Judaism online, making anti-Semitic jokes, and everyone egged everyone on. I consistently shrugged it off, until I couldn't, and then I removed myself from the situation. Years later, some apologized. Being Jewish meant it was okay to bully me. After all, I was different.

After college, when I lived in Chicago, Jews bullied me. "You'll never be Jewish, because you don't have Jewish blood," they said. I was "too Jewish" in their eyes. I was proud to be something that they deemed that I wasn't. I was scared to go out, I was scared to leave my apartments. And it all happened online. But the threats were vivid, scary, and I crumbled under them. I was different. 

And then, as my blog became more well read, I experienced the bane of the internet: anonymous, hate-filled bullying. That is, at first a lot of it was anonymous. As time has progressed, the bullying has come from those I once considered friends who probably don't consider themselves bullies. "To treat abusively" covers many bases, not just physical. Emotional abuse is perhaps the worst of it all, and the emotional abuse that I've received for being me continues to amaze me. Why am I a target of bullying by other Jews? Because I AM DIFFERENT. 

The funny thing about the Jewish community, I've realized, is that we're the perfect community to combat bullying and yet we are horrible, horrible bullies. Jewish ethics and values tell us that man was made in the image of G-d and should be treated accordingly. How poorly we follow through. How badly we treat one another on behalf of differences. I wonder if some of the things people have said to me they would be willing to say to HaShem. Our values teach us that we are responsible for repairing a very broken world. Hatred, abuse, and bullying exist at every stage of life, and while we should be fighting these abuses, we're allowing others in our community to participate in further breaking into pieces this world we live in. 

All of this comes because I saw the movie "Bully" tonight, and it left me outraged. Sick to my stomach. An 11-year-old boy should not have to carry the casket of his best friend (also 11) to a hole in the ground because that friend killed himself because he was being bullied. Eleven. Years. Old. I cried. I cried, and I cried for the parents that lost or were losing a child from something they could not control and something that school administrators refused to change out of stubbornness or ignorance. It made me sick. 

They call it "Bullycide." Every year, 6.3 percent of high school students attempt suicide. With that, I am a statistic. I did a quick search of recent bully-based teen suicide. In the past month ...

• Grace McComas, 15, killed herself on Easter in Howard County, MD. She was cyberbullied. 
• Kenneth Weishuhn, 14, killed himself on Easter in Paullina, IA. He was bullied for being gay.
• Ted "Teddy" Molina, 16, killed himself in on April 2 in Corpus Christi, Texas. He was part Latino and part Asian and was bullied for being "mixed."
• Rafael Morelos, 14, killed himself in late March in Cashmere, Washington. He was bullied for being openly gay.

I'm sure there are more. Many more. 

And then there are cases like Austin Rodriguez of Wellsville, OH, who attempted suicide in late March -- entering a coma. He was bullied for being gay. Imagine how many other suicide attempts there are everyday because of the despair of bullying? 

We think that words are simply words, but words are the worst daggers of all. We have a responsibility to stand for one another, to give a voice to the voiceless, and to make sure that children reach adulthood and can experience life. What am I going to do? I'm going to create a resource at work as a means of education for parents and teens in what to do if they are being bullied online and how to make it stop. 

And I advise those who wish to come to this blog and bully me, that I will no longer stand for hate, judgment, or abuse. This blog is a bully-free zone. If you can't handle that, then you need to reevaluate what the Torah, the Talmud, and our sages have to say about repairing the world and treating those who inhabit this world. 

Like a Shofar, Raise Your Voice

On a whim, while failing to fall asleep the other night, I decided to read one of the portions of the Yom Kippur reading: Isaiah 57:15-58:14. I was struck by the following, because I think it makes aware something that we probably don't consider when it comes to fasting.

In this portion, from 58:14, Isaiah is sharing G-d's words.

Call with a full voice, do not spare, like a shofar raise your voice and relate to My people their transgression, and to the house of Jacob their sins. Yet they seek Me daily and they wish to know My ways, like a nation that performed righteousness and did not forsake the ordinance of its G-d: they ask Me ordinances of righteousness; they desire nearness to G-d. 

And the people ask: "Why have we fasted, and You did not see; we have afflicted our soul and You do not know?" And HaShem answers with a question about how we fast and why we fast.

Behold, for quarrel and strife you fast, and to strike with a fist of wickedness. Do not fast like this day, to make your voice heard on high. Will such be the fast I will choose, a day of man's afflicting his soul? Is it to bend his head like a fishhook and spread out sackcloth and ashes? Will you call this a fast and an acceptable day to the Lord? Is this not the fast I will choose? To undo the fetters of wickedness, to untie the bands of perverseness, and to let out the oppressed free, and all perverseness you shall eliminate. Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and moaning poor you shall bring home; when you see a naked one, you shall clothe him, and from your flesh you shall not hide?

HaShem says not to bow your head and afflict yourself so much as to open your eyes to the true reason we fast, to acknowledge the wickedness and neglect of our people that we pursue day in and day out.

Then your light shall break forth as the dawn, and your healing shall quickly sprout, and your righteousness shall go before you; the glory of the Lord shall gather you in. Then you shall call and the Lord shall answer, you shall cry and He shall say, "Here I am," if you remove perverseness from your midst, putting forth the finger and speaking wickedness. And you draw out your soul to the hungry, and an afflicted soul you sate, then your light shall shine in the darkness, and your darkness shall be like noon. And the Lord shall always lead you, and He shall satisfy your soul in drought, and strengthen your bones; and you shall be like a well-watered garden and like a spring of water whose water does not fail.

And this part I really like, because it says exactly what we need to do; HaShem doesn't mince words. He's not mealymouthed about what is expected of us.

And [those coming] from you shall build ancient ruins, foundations of generations you shall erect, and you shall be called the repairer of the breaches, restorer of the paths, to dwell in. If you restrain your foot because of the Sabbath, from performing your affairs on My holy day, and you call the Sabbath a delight, the holy of the Lord honored, and you honor it by not doing your wonted ways, by not pursuing your affairs and speaking words. Then, you shall delight with the Lord, and I will cause you to ride on the high places of the land, and I will give you to eat the heritage of Jacob your father, for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.

It's easy as pie. So often we look to fast days as a means of pain and suffering for our own souls, for our own being. But the truth is that Yom Kippur and its fast are a means of taking our inward obsession outward and to acknowledge the indifference we have to those around us, to the hungry and empty souls that need to be sated, to observe the Sabbath and to make for ourselves a path of repair. 

I want to wish you all a tzom qal (easy fast), which doesn't mean I hope it's a walk in the park for you, but that I wish that you all have come to a point of inner reflection over these Days of Awe so that when it comes to standing before HaShem and asking to be sealed in the book of life that it means something and that it is more than mere words and wishes, that it is based on introspection and action, so that for HaShem it is easy -- easy to seal you eternally in the Book of Life and to the House of Jacob.