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Rabbi Mendy Herson's Blog

Thoughts from, and conversations with, Rabbi Herson

Spring

When you woke up this morning, what was your frame of mind? Was today simply the day after yesterday and a prelude to tomorrow? Or was this morning the beginning of a new chapter, the first page in a book called “the Rest of Your Life”?

It is common to feel trapped in the flow of time, chained to our past and unable to change our future. We feel imprisoned by our circumstances. That’s why it’s refreshing to have a chance at a fresh start: a new job, a new community, etc. It’s exhilarating to feel unencumbered by history, and to have a clean slate. One can feel energized and alive, with a broad field of opportunities to explore.

Think of it in seasonal terms. The winter months seem to have nature in a frozen holding pattern. Nothing blooms or blossoms. Some creatures even enter into hibernation. Winter is the sound of silence.

Think of the Covid ‘winter’ from which we seem finally to be emerging (please G-d). It’s been a two-year winter. Some of us have barely left our homes, rarely showing our face, or seeing the faces of others’, in person.

This Spring is especially welcome. Annually, Spring is a time when the world shakes off its lethargy, regains its pulse and begins to show vitality. With the birds chirping, the bees buzzing and an upbeat scent in the air, there’s a can-do sense of rejuvenation. This year, more than ever, we can appreciate the idea of rebirth and renewal.

This idea of rebirth and renewal can apply to our daily lives in any season. Psycho-spiritual ‘winter’ means being frozen in the status quo, enslaved to habits and personal history. Sometimes it seems that a new ‘me’ will never blossom.

But we actually hold our internal calendar in our hands. Any day – how much more so in Spring – one can change the steps of one’s habitual ‘dance’, and pursue endless possibilities for true growth.

The future is bright when we allow ourselves to see the rising sun.

We’re now approaching Passover, our Spring Holiday, which celebrates our Freedom. Not only freedom from human subjugation, but an internal freedom – genuine personal freedom.

Passover teaches us that we do not have to wait for the vernal equinox for rebirth and renewal – that every morning can be our individual Spring. Every morning – even in a frigid January – we can find our personal Exodus from a weaker self. How much more so when we are surrounded by Spring and, this year, as we emerge from our long Covid hibernation.

This year, let’s make Passover even more special and appreciate our freedom even more.

If we live with a consciousness of Passover’s freedom message, it can resonate all year round.

A Reason To Rejoice

Jewish holidays tend to commemorate miraculous historic events in which G-d saved the Jewish people with open miracles.

Yet, if we want to truly celebrate a holiday, if we want to access its soul and find its ability to elevate our lives, we need to personalize the ancient narrative.

On Purim, we celebrate the Jews miraculous rescue of the Jews from annihilation more than 2,000 years ago in ancient Persia. Haman, wicked advisor to King Ahasuerus, despised the idea of Jewish identity. So he convinced the King that Jews deserved to die, and the palace issued an utterly evil decree. The Jews were worried. They prayed, they fasted, and they didn’t back down; their commitment was strong. And they were ultimately saved.

Beautiful narrative. But how is that my story? I have, thank G-d, never been threatened with annihilation. I’ve had, and continue to have, my share of stresses, problems and close calls, but nothing in the realm of mortal danger. So I can’t honestly see myself in the shoes of the Jews of ancient Persia.

Unless….

Unless I focus on their moral challenge. The Jews were asked to repudiate their relationship with the Divine, and they decided to honor that relationship, even at the expense of their own lives.

We, too, face moral challenges (although the consequences are totally different – thank G-d – than those faced by the Jews of ancient Persia). We each have a relationship with our Creator, and have the ability – and hopefully the commitment – to honor that relationship through our actions.

But that commitment is often threatened. For example, if one is committed to lighting Shabbat Candles on Friday before sundown, what happens when life seems to get in the way, especially if it’s “just this once.” Or if one is committed to “respectful discourse,” does that internal pledge collapse in the face of a friend or co-worker’s unwelcomed comment?  

When a relationship matters, we find a way to honor and protect it, even in the face of challenge. If we’re committed to G-d’s guidance, to our Jewish identity, then we stick with it, even in the face of challenge. Just like our ancestors who lived through the Purim saga.

On Purim we rejoice. We take an opportunity to bask in the beauty of our relationship with the Divine, we uncover our own deep commitment to staying the course, even when it’s difficult, and we thank G-d for the opportunity.

L’chaim and happy Purim!

Happiness Formula

Don’t worry; be happy. A beautiful slogan in charmingly simple words.

But is it realistic? What if I have stresses that I can’t ignore? Should I stick my head in the sand and just smile? Happiness isn’t that simple. Happiness is a frame of mind that is deceptively difficult to achieve and maintain.

To me, happiness doesn’t mean buoyant frivolity. That is shallow and fleeting. It means a genuine inner peace and balance that I achieve when my world makes sense.

I’m not talking about artificially-inspired or externally-stimulated joy from things like alcohol or a great party. We sometimes numb our unhappiness with external forces and call that happiness. Those things might make me feel good, but they don’t qualify as genuine, internal happiness.

So how do I achieve a happy frame of mind?

 When I feel that my life has purpose, and that the things I do are GENUINELY in the service of that purpose, I’m on the road to happiness. I may still be working hard, and dealing with difficult situations, but if I’m living for a purpose I truly value, that resonates within me as a deep-seated objective, and that is substantive and enduring, then I can feel internally balanced and happy.
I don’t believe I can be happy building metaphoric ‘sand castles’. I need a worthy goal -- a genuine anchor.

Raising a psychologically and spiritually healthy family is one good example of a worthy goal. Setting my family’s healthy growth as my goal, and building my world around that goal, can bring me inner peace. If I go to work with the goal of providing for my family and they are not just happenstance beneficiaries of my income, I can maintain inner peace in the face of challenges. I can endure significant stress because I’m working for a higher purpose. For my family.

In Judaism, Holiness is the purpose that can bring balance to all of life. So if I believe that I, and my actions, truly matter to G-d; if I believe that my every action can change me and my world for good; that every action is cosmic and enduring in a true sense, then I can have a genuine inner peace.

The stresses are there. But I believe that embracing those stresses and accepting them wholeheartedly is itself a part of my soul’s growth and maturation. Each moment can become an eternally shining nugget of meaning.

We can all find meaningful pursuits (family is just one example), and meaning in our existing pursuits. And that is critical to happiness.

We are presently in the month of Adar, which our Rabbis describe as a month of amplified joy. How do we get there? One tried and true formula: pursuing a life of meaning. 

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