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                         L'CHAIM - ISSUE # 713
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                           Copyright (c) 2002
                 Lubavitch Youth Organization - L.Y.O.
                              Brooklyn, NY
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             THE WEEKLY PUBLICATION FOR EVERY JEWISH PERSON
   Dedicated to the memory of Rebbetzin Chaya Mushka Schneerson N.E.
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        April 5, 2002            Shmini           23 Nisan, 5762
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                         Time Is of the Essence

Honking horns, DSL, paying bills on-line, watches in every shape, size,
color and price-range. These are just a few examples that illustrate how
important and precious time is to most of us. Convenience stores and
neighborhood groceries abound because we'd rather waste a little money
than a lot of time.

For forty-nine days, seven weeks between the holiday of Passover and
Shavuot, we are reminded by the Torah just how valuable time is.

Starting on the second night of Passover and continuing through the day
preceeding Shavuot, we "count the omer." (The omer was a measure of
barley brought as a sacrifice on the second day of Passover during
Temple times.)

Each evening, we state that it is a certain number of days since the
bringing of the omer. In addition, we preface the count by saying a
blessing for this commandment.

If by chance, one forgot to "count the omer" at night and during the
entire following day, he may continue counting once he remembers, but
without the blessing.

"What's the big deal?" one might ask. "By forgetting to count one day
out of forty-nine, a person forfeits the opportunity to say the blessing
for all the remaining days!" True, it might seem a bit harsh, but it
teaches a powerful lesson: time is priceless and irreplaceable.

Counting the omer instills within us the understanding that time should
not and must not be wasted. The story is told of a famous rabbi who
could literally account for every minute of his day. He knew exactly
what he did when. He never "lost" time. He, like many others, viewed his
every hour, every minute, as a precious gift from G-d. Just as one
wouldn't use an expensive bottle of wine for cooking, or give fine
imported chocolates to a three-year-old, so too, should time be used to
its fullest and spent on the more important aspects of life.

(That time is so precious is obvious even to those who might wish to
convey a different message, such as banks. In fact, one international
bank has an ad running that states, "'Time is money' is an insult to
time.")

There's another "timely" idea that we can learn from counting the omer.
Each day influences the next day. If, unfortunately, we forget to count
one day, all of the rest of the days are effected by our forgetfullness.
If, however, we remember to count every day, we are able to bless each
subsequent day, and that blessing impacts future days positively.

Whether you wear a rolex or a timex, try to keep in mind just how
precious time is. And make a point of scheduling in time for really
important things, like learning more about your 4,000 year old heritage.

To learn about the potential for change infused into these seven weeks,
visit www.meaningfullife.com and check out their guide to the counting
of the omer.

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           LIVING WITH THE REBBE  -  THE WEEKLY TORAH PORTION
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This week's Torah portion, Shemini, contains three seemingly unconnected
incidents and ideas. The portion opens with an account of the eighth day
of the consecration of the Sanctuary, moves on to the death of Aaron's
two sons, Nadav and Avihu, and concludes with a list of kosher animals
and the prohibition against eating insects and reptiles.

On each of the first seven days of consecration, Moses built the
Sanctuary only to take it apart again later that very same day. Only on
the eighth day ("shemini") did he put it together, and it remained
standing. On the eighth day, a fire came down from Heaven and consumed
the sacrificial offerings. The eighth day thus had an advantage over the
previous seven.

The two sons of Aaron were on an extremely high spiritual level.
According to Chasidic teachings, their yearning for G-dliness was so
powerful that their souls could simply not remain in their physical
bodies, and they died. Although this is obviously not something G-d
wants or expects from us, it nonetheless attests to their exalted
spiritual stature.

After the Torah relates what happened to Nadav and Avihu it warns us
against emulating their actions. From this we learn that the Jewish
people were on such a high spiritual level at the time that a warning
was necessary.

It is therefore surprising, at first glance, that after recounting two
situations relating to exalted spiritual levels - the eighth day of
consecration and the deaths of Nadav and Avihu - that the same Torah
portion also contains the prohibition against eating insects and
reptiles. The law against eating creatures in this category is perfectly
understandable to the human mind; it is only human nature to find them
repugnant. Why, then, does the Torah find it necessary to warn us about
something that is so obvious?

The answer is that regardless of a Jew's spiritual standing he must
always have kabalat ol, acceptance of the yoke of Heaven. Despite
whatever spiritual attainments he many have achieved, in the end there
is nothing as important as kabalat ol. A person must never think that
because he is on a high spiritual level, he is automatically
"immunized." Without genuine acceptance of the yoke of Heaven there is
always the danger of deterioration - even to the point of eating insects
and reptiles, G-d forbid!

Accordingly, the Torah's prohibition against eating creeping things
immediately follows the other two incidents to teach us that kabalat ol
is required in all circumstances and situations in life.

                            Adapted from Volume 1 of Likutei Sichot

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                             SLICE OF LIFE
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                            Jewish Journeys
                        by Rabbi Herschel Finman

I was raised in a typical Jewish home and received the compulsory five
years of afternoon Hebrew school. One thing I learned in those long
afternoons was that sharpened pencils, when thrown just right, would
stick into a drop ceiling.

After my bar mitzva, I promised myself that I would start going to
synagogue again when I retired. After all, who went to synagogue? Old
men and young boys. It was not that I was turned off from Judaism. On
the contrary, I enjoyed the Passover seders, lighting Chanuka candles
and getting together for other holidays. It's just that Judaism as I
knew it didn't have the answers to my questions.

One day in a high school chemistry class, the teacher was explaining an
equation in Quantum mechanics. I asked the teacher, "But why does DS +
DG = DH?" She patiently explained the equation again after which I once
more asked her why. She responded, "That's just the way G-d wants it."

It hit me that science could not answer all of my questions. Perhaps
there was something more. My journey to find the answers to my questions
began.

As I felt I knew enough about Judaism having spent five years in Hebrew
school, I decided to look into Christianity. At that time I was taking a
"Bible as Literature" class. We were given an assignment to compare and
contrast the literary style of the apostles. When certain contradictions
caught my eye, I questioned the teacher. The teacher demurred, saying
that he was an English teacher and I should ask the choirmaster, a
Protestant Minister.

I was in the choir and knew the choirmaster. I respectfully posed my
query. The man's veins popped out of his neck and his eyes bulged. He
threatened to fail me and have me expelled for making fun of his
religion. End of my journey into Christianity.

I then turned to Hinduism. I went to the school library and took out the
definitive book on Hinduism, at least according to the Jewish librarian.
The first chapter began by listing the 5,000 gods that Hindus worship.
Having been raised with matza on Passover and brisket on Rosh Hashana,
5,000 gods went against my grain. End of my journey into Hinduism

My eldest brother had gone off to Thailand to learn the secrets of
Buddhism. He had left behind a 32-volume set of Buddhist philosophy. I
began reading it and became enthralled. I decided I would eventually
follow my brother's footsteps to Thailand.

My mother had rented the apartment downstairs from us to a young
Lubavitch couple. We became close friends and I began to debate them on
Judaism verses Buddhism. We were all beginners and the playing field was
basically level. They did have an advantage though, chocolate brownies.

I would come home late on Friday nights. Before going up to our
apartment, I would stop in downstairs, feast on brownies and discuss
philosophy until well after midnight. One night my host asked me when my
Hebrew birthday was. I told him I didn't know what a Hebrew birthday
was. He explained the nuances of the Jewish lunar calendar and produced
a book that had corresponding dates. As it turned out, that night was my
Hebrew birthday. He told me that if I went to synagogue the next
morning, I would be called up to the Torah (known as an "aliya"), an
honor I had not had since my bar mitzva.

I went to synagogue the next day. When I told the rabbi that it was my
Hebrew birthday and I would like an aliya, he almost fell through the
floor. It had been many years since I had attended services. The Rabbi
invited me to lunch but I declined; I did not want to push this Judaism
business too much.

As my discussions continued with the downstairs neighbors, it occurred
to me that I needed to know his material to better argue with him. I
began studying the weekly Torah reading and attending Chasidic
philosophy classes, all the while  keeping up my Buddhist readings. By
mid-December I was a regular at Saturday services and had accepted the
rabbi's invitation for lunch. However, I was still quite careful not to
get too close; Buddhism was my journey.

What drew me to Chabad was the philosophy. I appreciated the local
Chabad Rabbi's class based on Tanya, the basic book of Chabad Chasidic
philosophy. These weekly classes inspired me to think deeply about our
purpose of existence and how to achieve that goal.

In one of my Friday night get-togethers for brownies and discussion, I
admitted to my host that Buddhism and Chasidic philosophy were very,
very similar and that I enjoyed the contrasts and similarities. His
response to me was, "If you believe they are saying the same thing, why
run to Thailand? You have it right here!" I could not argue.

My host showed me a brochure about a Shabbat Discovery Weekend in Crown
Heights, Brooklyn, and asked if I wanted to go. He offered that if I
didn't enjoy the experience he would reimburse me for my expenses. I
agreed.

That Shabbat I was billeted with a modest Lubavitch family. In the
middle of the meal the phone began to ring. After about 20 rings I asked
the host if he was going to answer the phone, perhaps it was important.
His response, "Maybe it's not." I was hit by a lightening bolt. Here was
the inner peace, the simplicity, I was looking for. In one small phrase,
"Maybe it's not," this simple man had transcended time and space,
something I had been trying to do for three years. I felt encouraged.

At the end of the weekend I was offered a week in Tiferus Bochurim, a
yeshiva in New Jersey for late starters to Torah study. I found the food
foul and the learning incredible. I realized that there was a world of
Judaism to which I had not been exposed. After the week, I went back
home. I took off the yarmulke I had procured in Crown Heights and sat
down to the non-kosher spaghetti and meatballs (with parmesan cheese) my
mother had prepared. After I ate, I went into the bathroom and threw up.
I put the yarmulke back on and announced to my mother that I was
religious.

For the next eight years I studied in yeshivas in Morristown, Miami,
Seattle and finally Brooklyn where I received ordained and met my wife
Chana. We spent three years in Melbourne, Australia helping the Chabad
community in a variety of ways. Since 1988 we have resided in the
Greater Detroit area. And I have learned that the Jewish journey never
ends.

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                               WHAT'S NEW
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                            Let's Go To Shul

Let's Go To Shul is written and illustrated by Rikki Benenfeld, whose
earlier book, I Go To School, was a hit with pre-schoolers. In Let's Go
To Shul, the highlight of the week is the family trip to shul on Shabbat
morning. Simple rhymes detail all the important objects and events young
children encounter at the synagogue. HaChai Publishing.

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                            THE REBBE WRITES
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                      24th of Nissan, 5727 [1967]

Sholom uBrocho [Peace and Blessing]:

I was genuinely pleased to see you at the farbrengen [Chasidic
gathering], and previously at the davening [prayers]. In addition to the
pleasure of seeing tangible proof of your satisfactory physical health,
it is particularly gratifying to be able to share with good friends the
joy of Yom Tov [the holiday], especially Achron-shel-Pesach [the last
days of Passover]. For the farbrengen on this occasion is on many
respects an extension of the Haphtorah [selection from the Prophets] of
the day, which speaks of the blissful days of Moshiach and continues in
the note of true fulfillment, when "the earth will be full of the
knowledge of G-d, as the waters cover the sea."

While the Haphtorah  speaks of the Days of Moshiach, G-d, Who is the
Essence of Goodness, desires that the Good (in this case the universal
knowledge of G-d) which He will give us should be enjoyed to the fullest
measure. Needless to say, the joy and appreciation of gaining something
through toil and effort is incomparably greater than something which
comes by without trying. Consequently, the activity now to spread
"knowledge of G-d on earth" - the dissemination of Yiddishkeit
[Judaism], Torah and Mitzvoth [commandments] - is the proper and
necessary preparation for it, whereby also it will be possible to enjoy
to the full the blessing of "the earth will be full of the knowledge of
G-d, as the waters cover the sea."

The joy is compounded when one has the opportunity to bring the
knowledge of G-d to spheres which are inaccessible to others, for which
G-d provides a special capacity to accomplish it.

As you will easily infer, I am referring to your unique Zechus
[privilege] in being able to bring the "Emes Hashem l'Olom" [the eternal
truth of G-dliness] to a circle where few, if indeed any but you, can
penetrate - the Emes Hashem - embodied in His Toras Emes. Truth is, of
course, incompatible with compromise, for even the slightest compromise
invalidates the real truth.

This reminds me of the story related by my father-in-law of saintly
memory during a farbrengen on Achron-shel-Pesach:

"My grandfather, the Rebbe Maharash, once said to the Chosid R' Elya
Abeler, a market trader: 'Elya, I envy you. You travel and go to markets
and fairs, which gives you the opportunity to exchange a Jewish word
with a fellow-Jew and inspire him to Nigleh [the revealed aspects of
Torah] and Chasidus. This creates joy in Heaven, and G-d pays the
commission in terms of children, life and sustenance. The busier the
market and the greater the effort, the greater the Parnosso -
[livelihood].'

"Scores of years later, when R' Elya recounted this to me, he was aglow
and aflame with those words, and his limbs shook, as though he had just
heard them for the first time that day." (Sefer Hasichos, 5703, P. 111).

The story speaks for itself. I will only add the obvious, that envy in
matters of Torah and Mitzvoth is quite in order.

To reiterate what I wished you during our meeting, may it be G-d's Will
that for many years to come you should work in the above mentioned
direction, in good health, and with joy and gladness of heart, and with
a growing measure of vitality and inspiration; and may the above
blessings of the Rebbe Maharash be fulfilled in you and yours.

With blessing,

P.S. It was a particular pleasure for me to hear your daughter recite on
the sedra [portion] of the Torah and about the [Passover] Seder, which
she did with naturalness and innocence characteristic of a child,
oblivious of compromise. It bespeaks your ability, undoubtedly shared by
your wife, to instill such pure faith in her. Have much Nachas
[pleasure].

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                            RAMBAM THIS WEEK
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23 Nisan 5762

Positive mitzva 94: fulfilling all oral commitments

By this injunction we are commanded to fulfill every obligation we have
taken upon ourselves by word of mouth: every oath, vow, offering and the
like. It is contained in the Torah's words (Deut. 23:24): "That which is
gone out of your lips you shall observe."

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                        A WORD FROM THE DIRECTOR
                         Rabbi Shmuel M. Butman
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This Shabbat we will bless the new month of Iyar. In the Torah, the
months of the year aren't referred to by name but by sequential order,
to teach us that the yearly cycle is an ongoing, continual process.
Nisan, the month when the Jews left Egypt, is "the first month"; Iyar is
"the second month." Each month is a preparation for the one that
follows.

The month of Iyar is an especially auspicious time for healing. Indeed,
its Hebrew letters are an acronym for "Ani Hashem Rofecha," "I am G-d
your Healer." The healing G-d provides, however, is very different from
that of a human doctor. A regular doctor is given the ability and power
to cure illness, but the cure is not retroactive. By contrast, G-d can
remove the illness retroactively, so that it seems as if the person was
never sick!

The month of Nisan, characterized by the miraculous redemption of the
Jews from Egypt, "spills over" and influences the month of Iyar, to
ensure that the healing will be effected in the above G-dly manner. Only
G-d, Who is above nature, can utterly root out illness as if it never
existed.

In the same way that there is physical illness and health, so too is
there spiritual illness and healing. During the time between Passover
and Shavuot, it is customary to learn Ethics of the Fathers on Shabbat
afternoons. Its pithy teachings inspire us to acquire positive character
attributes and "heal" the soul. As the weather outside warms up from its
winter coldness, so too does the Evil Inclination become thawed out and
reactivated. Yet "armed" with the miraculous month of Nisan, and further
fortified by our Sages' teachings, the month of Iyar provides us with an
opportunity for "super-natural" spiritual wellness. For now is the
perfect time to heal any infirmities that might exist, and work toward
true spiritual liberation.

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                          THOUGHTS THAT COUNT
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And Aaron raised his hands ("yadav") toward the people and blessed them
(Lev. 9:22)

Although the word for hands, "yadav," is pronounced in the plural, it is
written without an extra yud, as if in the singular ("yado"). This is an
allusion to the importance of Jewish unity: When the Jewish people stand
united, Aaron's "hands" are transformed into a single hand reaching up
to Heaven, to bring down an abundance of G-dly blessing.

                                                 (Nefesh Yehonatan)

                                *  *  *


And the swine, though its hoof is parted and is cloven footed, yet it
does not chew the cud; it is unclean to you (Lev. 11:7)

Why do the verses describing non-kosher animals begin with what would
seemingly make them kosher, rather than what distinguishes them as
unclean? Moreover, the Torah cites their signs of purity as the reason
for their not being kosher! The answer is that these "kosher" signs
actually add to their spiritual impurity; one must be especially careful
precisely because of them. For the most dangerous trait of all is
hypocrisy, when impurity tries to pass itself off as purity.

                                                        (Kli Yakar)

                                *  *  *


Nevertheless, a fountain or pit where there is plenty of water
(literally "a mikva of water") shall be clean (Lev. 11:36)

One of the reasons that according to Jewish law the conversion process
includes total immersion of the person's body in a mikva is as follows:
Our Sages said (Tractate Yevamot 22): "A proselyte who converts is
considered as a newborn." The waters of the mikva (ritualarium) are
symbolic of the amniotic fluid surrounding the infant in the womb before
birth.

                                            (The Lubavitcher Rebbe)

                                *  *  *


Do not make your souls abominable by means of any creeping thing, nor
shall you make yourselves unclean with them, that you be defiled by them
(Lev. 11:43)

It sometimes happens that a person's nature will inexplicably change for
the worse; the individual himself may be bewildered and not know why. In
many cases, the only explanation is that the person has eaten something
that had a negative spiritual effect upon his character.

                          (Ohr HaChayim, in the name of the Arizal)

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                            IT ONCE HAPPENED
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    Ed.'s note: Many years ago, in the city of Lemberg in Galicia, there
    lived a family by the name of Brill. According to legend their name
    was derived from the miraculous "brillen" (glasses in Yiddish) at
    the heart of this story.

One time, a baby boy  was born into a Jewish family. Their joy was
short-lived, however, when it was discovered that the child was blind.
As the doctors could do nothing to help, the parents accepted the Divine
decree and loved their child even more. The boy's first name is not
known, but for our purposes we will call him Michel.

When Michel was three years old he was given his first haircut and
brought to school. Although he obviously could not learn to read, the
teach began to teach him the blessings and prayers by heart.

It soon became apparent that the child was unusually intelligent.
Whatever he heard was immediately remembered. Over the next few years he
memorized the entire prayer book, many books of the Bible and many
tractates of Mishna. The child acquired a vast amount of Torah knowledge
and was beloved by all.

Michel was especially drawn to sefarim, Jewish holy books. Even though
he couldn't read, he would remove them from their shelves and lovingly
caress their pages. Passing his fingers over the holy letters, he seemed
to absorb their sanctity. Each book received a kiss before being put
back.

One time Michel asked his brother to bring him to the main study hall in
Lemberg. As was his habit, he began to take the sefarim off the shelves
and straighten out their pages. He came across a very thick volume
covered with dust; it was obvious that no one had used it in a very long
time. He opened it and was surprised to feel something hard between the
pages. It was a glasses case that someone had forgotten. The boy opened
the case, took out the glasses, and playfully put them on. He thought he
would faint: unbelievably, he could see! The entire world suddenly came
into focus.

Michel thought he must be dreaming. He took off the glasses and again
was blind. Putting them back on, he could see his younger brother and
the square-shaped letters on the pages before him. It was a miracle.

Michel fought against the urge to cry out about what had happened. But
he was still in shock and needed a little more time to assimilate the
change. Instead, he put the glasses in his pocket and asked his brother
to take him home.

Michel's parents could see that something was wrong. The poor boy's
hands were trembling; he was deathly pale and could barely eat. But when
they asked him what was the matter, he insisted that everything was
fine.

That night he waited until everyone had gone to sleep to try on the
glasses. Again, he could see as if he had never been blind. A few days
later he could no longer keep the secret to himself, and told his
parents about the miraculous glasses. Needless to say, the entire
household was filled with gladness and light. The whole city of Lemberg
marveled at the miracle. Everyone agreed that there was no one more
deserving of such good fortune than he. Moreover, now Michel could begin
studying Torah in earnest.

Sometime later Michel went back to the study hall to take a good look at
the book in which he had discovered the glasses. It was an ancient
volume of Kabala (mysticism), and although he had made great strides in
learning, he could not understand much of what was written. Michel was
determined to learn more about the book and the glasses, but no one was
able to answer his questions. Finally, he found a very old man  who
remembered that as a young child, he had often seen the Rabbi of the
town poring over that particular volume and wearing similar glasses.
Further questioning revealed that the rabbi was none other than the
famous Torah scholar known as the "Pnei Yehoshua" for his commentary on
the Talmud [Rabbi Yaakov Yehoshua Falk, 1680-1756], who later headed a
community in Germany.

Astoundingly, Michel later learned that he had found the glasses on the
exact date of the rabbi's passing (yartzeit)! For the rest of his life
he observed the Pnei Yehoshua's yartzeit as a special day of
thanksgiving.

Michel Brill grew up to be not only a Torah scholar but also a
successful businessman who gave generously to charity. Years later, when
he passed away after a long and fruitful life, his descendants gathered
to divide up their inheritance. Everyone was willing to relinquish
everything their father had left them aside from his miraculous glasses.
In the course of their argument the glasses fell to the floor and
shattered, and so each of his children ended up with a small sliver of
glass...

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                            MOSHIACH MATTERS
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The anticipation of Moshiach's coming fuses together the exile and the
redemption. Considering Moshiach's coming as an imminent reality, grants
one an awareness of the redemption in the midst of exile. This is
reflected in the Hebrew words for exile and redemption. By adding an
alef, representative of G-d,  "L-rd of the world," the Hebrew for exile
(gola) is transformed into geula, redemption."

                             (The Rebbe, Shabbat Hagadol 5760-1990)

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                END OF TEXT - L'CHAIM 713 - Shmini 5762
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