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Rabbi Mendy Herson's Blog

Thoughts from, and conversations with, Rabbi Herson

Home Is Where The Heart Is

“Home is where the heart is.” It’s a great quote, often credited to the Roman naval commander known as Pliny the Elder; but what does it really mean?
Well, what is a home? It’s not just a structure for habitation. Home is a special place.
My home is where I belong, without any conditions, whys or wherefores. It’s simply my place. I never feel like a guest, or like I don’t belong.
At home, I am who I am, with no need to hide behind protective psychological shields. I feel safe acknowledging and facing my flaws.
At home, I am perceived – by myself and others – in my entirety. It’s not about what I do, but who I am. Home is a place of emotional and psychological security, a place where I operate with my fullest sense of being.
“Home is where the Heart is” suggests that, wherever one may physically be, their strongest sense of belonging and security exists where they are embraced by an unwavering and unconditional sense of belonging.
When we make someone else feel entirely welcome and wholly embraced, we create a home for them within our relationship – a place where they can dwell securely.
We can extend that thought to our relationship with G-d.
Throughout our history, Torah has been our treasured guide toward a purposeful life. When we live by Torah values – do something meaningful, consider our destiny before acting, spend a few moments in prayer and contemplation – we embrace our purpose and destiny and create a home within us for G-d.

How do I create a Home for G-d? When I do something meaningful, when I consider my destiny before acting, when I spend a few moments in prayer and contemplation, I am welcoming G-d into my life. Eventually, that mindset becomes my standard operating mode, and G-d is at home within me.
Bottom line: G-d’s home depends on where my heart is.

Mistakes

Mistake. Failure. When I was younger, those words made me shudder.

Why? Because I strive for success and achievement, so failure is not an option.

Except when it happens.

And what then? How do I deal with my mistakes and failures? I could try to divert my attention, because inadequacy is painful to embrace. On the other hand, I shouldn’t live in denial. Should I just bite my lip and move on, hoping that tomorrow will bring back-to-back successes?

In Torah thought, mistakes and failures are an important part of life. We don’t look for them, but they have a way of finding us. They also, paradoxically, have a dividend for us; it’s called the gift of growth.

When I err - in a relationship, in comprehension, in my finances, etc. – and I face my blunder, it hurts. I’m hit squarely between the eyes, and the pain can easily become an energy-sapping, paralyzing force.

But that would be a shame, and it would miss the whole point of missteps and mistakes. It’s not about wallowing in self-pity. It’s about growth. I need to embrace my internal angst and disappointment, and convert that energy into a catalyst for positive action. With my mistake, I’ve learned a lesson for the future.

Facing my blunder, and analyzing it without fear, also bring me new insights about myself and my attitudes. It helps me break new ground in self-awareness. How did I get here, and how could this happen?

My slip-up gives me a better connection with the concept at hand. Until I’ve made a mistake in my handling/understanding of a given concept, the concept and I are ‘mere acquaintances’. When I goof, and consequently take a more mature and committed attitude to the subject matter, we’ve just become more intimate. When a rope is torn it takes a double knot to repair it; similarly, my renewed relationship has a psychological ‘double-knot’.

So there are three levels to my 'growth by mistake':

I learn a lesson for my future conduct, when I recognize HOW I went wrong.

I learn more about myself, when I analyze WHY I went wrong.

I become closer to the subject matter, since I’ve revisited and renewed my commitment.

Making mistakes is inevitable.  Failing to grow from our mistakes – that would indeed be a mistake.

Inspiration

Inspiration.
We all know how it can be flash-in-the-pan. Think of new year’s resolutions, diets, etc. We mean well, but it doesn’t always translate into transformative living.

Perfunctory behavior.
We all recognize it when we say or do something on auto-pilot, without purposeful motivation.
Inspiration that doesn’t translate into real action is like a soul without a body. Action without genuine intent is like a body without a soul.

If I live a life sprinkled with intangible, not-yet-actualized, inspiration, I’ve lived a life with sparks but no fire. At the same time, if I live a life of positive behavior without inspiration, then my life may be like a diamond without brilliance.
Each of these – inspiration and positive behavior - is a necessary ingredient, and each needs the other for genuine fulfillment. So how do we bring them together? How do achieve integrity in furtherance of a life well-lived?

We need consciousness. When I feel an inspiring thought, when the warmth of meaning hits me, I can’t just pat myself on the back for having good thoughts. I must immediately recognize the need to anchor my inspiration in concrete life.

When I’m doing something, I need to have some measure of introspection and ask myself: Is this genuine? Do I feel what I’m doing?
My higher ‘me’ needs to guide my instinctive ‘me’ to a life of integrity.
What is that higher ‘me’? What deeper consciousness can help me integrate my inspiration and my actions? What higher sense can help guide me toward more focused behavior?
In Jewish spirituality we call this higher sense wisdom (‘chochmah’ in Hebrew). Wisdom is vision. It’s a guiding awareness of who we need to be. It’s a deeply rooted compass that is honed by life’s experiences and struggles.

Wisdom is called the soul’s ‘oil’; the ‘fuel’ of meaningful living. Just as an olive yields its oil through a painful squeeze, our souls produce much of our wisdom through challenge and pain.
When ignited by a spark of inspiration, our oil (wisdom) integrates our actions with our soul awareness and they burn together as a steady flame, lighting up our lives.
For real.

Beauty Can Be Beautiful...

The dictionary defines vanity as shallow, excessive attention to beauty. In our culture, the pursuit of personal glamour is often seen as a pursuit of vanity. While that may often be the case, is it necessarily so? Could there conceivably be a place for beauty in a refined, holy life?

It’s all in the attitude. The operative question is: Why do we want beauty?

Is beauty an end in itself or is it a helpful aid to a meaningful end?

The Book of Proverbs tells us that “Grace is false and beauty is vain”, but “respect for the Divine… should be praised”. Beauty is false and vain when it is detached from a meaningful context, but if beauty helps us – or others - in the quest for meaning, then it is praiseworthy.

Does one want to turn heads on the street (with a beautiful image) or impress friends (with a beautiful home), just for the admiration of others? That’s beauty with no substantive purpose.

At the same time, ‘looking good’ can bring powerful credibility to a speaker’s meaningful message, just as a beautiful Shabbat table helps to create a serene and dignified ambience for a holy purpose.

Beauty is one of G-d’s gifts to the world. We can use it vainly, or we can use it to make the world a better place.

When the Jews were being tortured in Egypt, Jewish women pushed through the pain and struggled to pretty themselves, desperately trying to bring some glimmer of beauty to their families’ lives. What did they use as mirrors? Our Rabbis tell us that they used sheets of shiny copper.

These copper sheets later found an interesting use: Once the Jews were ultimately liberated from Egypt and received the Torah, G-d commanded them to build the Tabernacle. This structure would be a bastion of holiness, a nexus for connection between the Divine and the human.

The Tabernacle would have designated functionaries, the Kohanim (priests), who were to be our agents of holiness and purity. G-d instructed that there be a copper laver at the mouth of the Tabernacle, where the Kohanim could cleanse their hands and feet before entering the Tabernacle as part of their self-purification for the holy rites.

What copper did they use for the laver? The copper mirrors the women had used in Egypt. G-d pointed to the mirror, potential tool of shallow vanity, as a tool of holiness -- holiness that can come from beauty. 

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