Rabbi's weekly Blog

“What do you want people to say when they come to the Chabad House?” That was the first question that Danny, the interior architect, asked when he entered the building site of the future Chabad House, several years ago. Devorah answered: “The first thing they should say is, ‘Wow!’ and after a pause, they should say ‘It’s nice here, there’s a Heimishe feeling here, it has a homey feeling to it.’” The two of them, Danny and Devorah, were successful in achieving their goal. We still laugh every time people enter the Chabad House for the first time and say exactly those words: “Wow!” and then, “It has a homey feeling to it.”…

Last week the Chabad House hosted a private event for a family from the community. One of the guests approached me, and after the standard “Wow!” and the “Heimish,” she said, “But why did you buy such expensive furniture? This is not a private home; it’s a Chabad House, a public place. It would have been sufficient to use cheaper furniture.” I smiled and replied, “It is, after all, a Chabad House; it represents the Lubavitcher Rebbe, so it has to be respectable.”

I didn’t tell her at the time, but she took me back 26 years. I was a 12-year-old when I accompanied my father to the new home of some friends of ours. They took us around enthusiastically, showing us the elaborate decorations – the marble floor, the expensive furniture. We had to listen to a whole lecture on the subject of the elaborate faucets in the bathroom. I was very impressed, saying “Wow!” every few minutes.

When we returned to our home in Kfar Chabad, I saw my father sitting in the kitchen, as he often did, over a cup of tea, lost in thought. I sat down next to him. I always liked those quiet moments, when everyone else was asleep. Soon I would ask him questions and hear something about his childhood, about his Jewish life in Stalin’s Russia. But not this time. This time Father didn’t tell stories; instead, he was sitting and crying quietly, and when I sat down next to him, he just gave me a searing look and said earnestly: “Zalmenke, I see that you were impressed with the marble floor; that you were enthusiastic upon seeing the decorative faucets. Now listen well: In the Chabad House that you will, G-d willing, have, you will have marble floors, as well as expensive furniture and fancy faucets, but not in your own home! Material wealth and magnificence have no place in the home of a Chassid. It was not for this that we risked our lives in Russia – not for the sake of marble on the floor, no, no!”

Gold, silver, copper and expensive animal skins were what Hashem asked Moshe to take from the Jewish People, “from every man whose heart motivates him”, “shoham stones and stones for the settings, for the Ephod and the Choshen (breastplate).” – and all that in order to fulfill the directive of “They shall make a sanctuary for Me, so that I may dwell among them.” Because when a person gives the most expensive material object that he possesses to the house of Hashem, that shows that he understands that material wealth and elegance are only means to sanctify and light up the world, and just like gold that is donated to the Temple becomes holy, part of a sanctuary for Hashem, so too the other material goods that we have can be sanctified by our using them correctly, for holy purposes. As an American diamond merchant once told me, in the middle of an economic crisis: “I am not worried about myself; I will manage. But it hurts me that I cannot give to all the people and institutions who need my support.”

Shabbat Shalom,

Zalmen Wishedski

After a person has just had an Aliyah in shul, people say to him “Chazak Uvaruch.” The Ashkenazim say “Yishar Ko’ach”, or, in short, “Shkoyach.” But not in Omsk, Siberia, in the old shul that has been resting on wooden columns for 165 years already. There, they don’t say “Shkoyach” or “Chazak”; there, the person descending from the Bimah (Torah reading platform) shakes hands with all those present, and with the special warmth that is unique to Siberian Jews, they wish each other “Zei Gezunt” (“Be well”).

When the first person, the Cohen, was called to the Torah and wished me “Zei Gezunt”, I thought he just saw I was tired from the long trip. But then, when the Levi and after him another six Yisraels did the same, I understood that it wasn’t aimed at me personally. It wasn’t me; it was them.

In the book “Hayom Yom”, on the date of the 28th of Shvat, the Rebbe brought an explanation of the Ba’al Shem Tov for a verse from this week’s Parasha – “If you see the donkey of someone who hates you crouching under its burden, would you refrain from helping him? You shall help repeatedly with him.” Here is what he said:

The donkey (Chamor), according to the Chassidic teachings, is related to Chomriyut – materialism.

A person’s body is his material part, and since it is material, it objects to the spiritual soul (Neshama) that is inside the person, as the body has wants and desires that don’t exactly coincide with the aspirations of the heavenly Neshama.

The Ba’al Shem Tov explains: If you see your body hating the Neshama and interfering with it, do not think to help your Neshama by breaking the body through self-inflicted suffering and fasting, but, rather, the opposite is true: help it refine and purify itself, so that it will no longer hate the Neshama. Connect your material part to spiritual doing.

Or, put more simply: We must care for the body; our health is important. A healthy person can serve Hashem and observe His Mitzvahs better than a sick person can.

A Jew should be healthy!

I’m not sure that the Jews in Omsk know this saying of the Ba’al Shem Tov. Its seems to me, that as descendants of Jews who were exiled to Siberia, they have become experienced and practical. They know that, as we say in Hebrew, “Ha’ikar Habri’ut” – the main thing is to be healthy.

Shabbat Shalom and Zei Gezunt!

Zalmen Wishedski