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                         L'CHAIM - ISSUE # 1004
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                           Copyright (c) 2008
                 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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        January 18, 2008       Beshalach         11 Shevat, 5768
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                          Perfectly Imperfect

We all want to be perfect. In fact, if we're honest, we want to be
perfectly perfect - perfect in everything we do: sports, work, school,
home, a perfect spouse, parent or child.

Of course, we all know we're not perfect. We'll humbly admit it. (We can
even admit our imperfection - perfectly.) And we'll never be perfect,
certainly not in every nuance of life.

Still, we'd like to be perfect at something: building model trains,
cleaning the house, raising our children. But that's not possible
either.

And most of the time, we live with our imperfections, flaws and
shortcomings just fine. We do the best we can, as the saying goes, and
muddle along.

Every once in a while, though, we get caught in the Perfection Trap, the
almost compulsive need to be perfect. Some people, of course, are
perfectionist by nature. Such people don't limit their perfectionist
impulse to any one thing. Everything they do has to be perfect,
immediately, the first time. And often, their perfectionism paralyzes
them.

Even when we expect perfection only in one area, once being perfect
moves from an ideal or a desire to an expectation, we become paralyzed,
at least in the endeavor where we expect ourselves to be perfect.

Why is that? What is perfectionism, anyway?

Perfectionism is like the machine language of a computer - 1 or 0, all
or nothing, perfect or junk.

And since we know we can never really be perfect, everything we do must
be junk. And if whatever we do is junk, why bother? It's useless, a
waste of time - and so we don't do it. We do something else instead. Or
nothing.

And then the next stage is, if everything we do is junk, then we are
ourselves must be junk. No wonder perfectionism paralyzes us! It makes
us treat ourselves like garbage.

That can lead to a sense of despair. We can give up and take the
attitude, if we can't do it all, we won't do it at all. We'll do
nothing.

So we have to not only recognize we'll make mistakes, but embrace but
the opportunity to learn and grow from them, to add in our observance
and learning as a result. That's called teshuva.

But why were we created imperfect in the first place?

Perhaps you've heard the joke about the sanctimonious man who, on seeing
his neighbor's well-tended, orderly garden said, "You must be very
grateful that G-d gave you such a magnificent plot of land, such
fruitful trees, such bountiful crops." His neighbor, already advanced in
years, looked at his garden, then looked at the unkempt fields around
him and said, "True, G-d gave me a lot to work with. But you should have
seen how the place looked before I got here."

On a more serious note, the Sages discussed the question, why wasn't the
world created perfect, and concluded that the imperfection, such as it
is, exists so that we, through our Torah and mitzvot (commandments) and
acts of loving-kindness,  can perfect it. Tikun Olam. Repairing the
world.

In other words, the very imperfection of the world is its perfection: it
makes us partners, but only if we participate in the process. For we
reach perfection - the times of Moshiach and the era of Redemption - in
stages, in a two-steps-forward-one-step-back motion. The progress, the
individual mitzva, must be kept paramount if we are to grow in our
observance, our learning.

But we have the assurance of the prophets, and the Torah, that we will
reach the time when "the whole world will be filled with knowledge of
G-dliness." We will reach perfection - imperfectly.

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           LIVING WITH THE REBBE  -  THE WEEKLY TORAH PORTION
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In this week's portion, Beshalach, we read the song of the Children of
Israel led by Moses after the splitting of the Red Sea and the special
song of the women led by Miriam the Prophetess.

In the Egyptian exile, it was Miriam who relayed the prophecy that a
redeemer would emerge. Even when the leaders of that generation could
not foresee an end to servitude and oppression, she spread hope and
trust among her people.

When her mother was forced to place Moses, the future redeemer of the
Jews, in the Nile, her father Amram approached Miriam and asked her,
"What will be the result of your prophecy? How will it be fulfilled?"

Miriam remained at the banks of the Nile and "stood at a distance to
know what would happen to him." Our Sages explain that, in addition to
her concern for her brother's future, she was concerned about the fate
of her prophecy. How indeed would the redemption come about?

In a metaphorical sense, this narrative is relevant to all Jewish women,
those living at present and those whose souls are in the spiritual
realms. Concerned over the fate of the Jewish people, they anxiously
await the Redemption.

The anxious anticipation of the redemption felt by Miriam - and by all
of the Jewish women in Egypt - was paralleled in its intensity by their
exuberant celebration when, after the miracles of the Red Sea, that
redemption was consummated. After the men joined Moses in song, the
women broke out in song and dance, giving thanks to G-d with a spiritual
rejoicing which surpassed that of the men.

The Torah's description of this celebration also testifies to the deep
faith inherent in Jewish women. The commentaries relate that as the
women prepared to leave Egypt, they were so confident that G-d would
perform miracles on behalf of their people in the desert that they took
tambourines with them so they could rejoice when the time came.

In the very near future, we will celebrate the ultimate Redemption. We
can now experience a foretaste of this impending celebration. Although
we are still in exile, the confidence that the Redemption is an imminent
reality should inspire us with happiness. For the Jewish people have
completed all the Divine service necessary to bring the Redemption. To
borrow an analogy of our Sages, the table has already been set for the
feast celebrating the Redemption, everything has been served, and we are
sitting together with Moshiach. All that is necessary is that we open
our eyes.

The experience of such happiness demonstrates the strength of our trust
in the promise of the Redemption, and the expression of this faith will,
in turn, hasten its realization. Adapted from a talk of the Rebbe,
Shabbat Beshalach 5752-1992

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                             SLICE OF LIFE
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                            Drawing My Soul
                            by Netta Levran

In the Spring of 2000, around Passover time, there was a terrible
bombing in Israel and an entire building collapsed killing 40-50 people.
I received a call from a friend of mine who was in Israel urging me to
say Tehillim (Psalms) for the souls of the people who had perished. I
had never even heard of Tehillim but she was so adamant about it that I
agreed.

I can't explain it, but from the moment I opened the book and started to
read the chapters of Psalms I became completely enraptured. This is
where my journey back to my Self - and in essence to G-d - began. I like
to think that I was brought back to my Jewish roots through King David
himself, as his Tehillim was really the stepping stone that returned me
to Judaism.

In the chapter of Psalms that I opened to, King David has turned to G-d
in desperation. He asks G-d, "Karva el nafshi ge-ala - draw near to my
soul and redeem it." I spent a great deal of my life feeling the
isolation and desperation described by King David. Even as a child and
through my adolescence into early adulthood, I always felt somewhat
removed from my Self - like something was missing. I went through
countless trials of different ways trying to fill - literally an
emptiness - where I knew my soul should be. Most of the things were not
only destructive but actually took me further away from myself.

For some reason, after reciting the Tehillim, I had the urge to read the
Bible, which I had never done before. I had gone to a conservative
Jewish day school, as my parents had always stressed the importance of
Jewish education. I had grown up in a home where being proud of being a
Jew was always paramount. We had celebrated Shabbat and the Jewish
holidays. But I had never read the Bible before. I took out the first
volume of Chumash (the Five Books of Moses), and began to read. I read
through all five volumes of Chumash, just the "basic storyline." And
then, I went back to the parts that I thought were "interesting," like
the creation of the world and the giving of the Torah on Mount Sinai. I
studied those sections with the commentary of Rashi.

By this time, my friend who had originally urged me to recite Tehillim
was back in Los Angeles. During her travels in Israel she had become
connected with Chabad and had studied off and on in Chabad-affiliated
women's yeshivot in Israel. My friend had brought me back a gift from
Israel, a Chitat. ("Chitat" is an acronym for Chumash, Tehillim and
Tanya - the basic book of Chabad Chasidic philosophy). My friend started
studying Tanya with me. When I read the first words in the very
beginning of Tanya, that a person is made to swear before he is born,
"Be a tzadik (righteous person) and do not be a rasha (wicked person)" I
knew I had to learn more about Chabad Chasidut.

Within a short period of time I met young people my age who were part of
the Chabad community in Los Angeles. They became my peer group. I didn't
know anything about Crown Heights, Brooklyn, but I got this idea into my
head that I had to go to Crown Heights, and especially to Machon Chana
Women's Yeshiva located there. My parents didn't think that Crown
Heights was the place for me at that time in my life; I was only 18
years old. But, I was a big strong-minded and impetuous and I went ahead
and booked a flight anyway. I showed up at the Machon Chana dormitory at
7 a.m. one morning, totally unannounced and unexpected. The dorm mother,
Mrs. Gitta Gansburg, opened the door and my words tumbled out about how
I wanted to be in Crown Heights and study in Machon Chana and learn
Chasidut. Mrs. Gansburg agreed to let me stay in the dorm. At the end of
a month, she and I both agreed that it wasn't the right time yet for me
to be there.

I returned to Los Angeles and started college. I was a biology major and
a nursing student. A few years passed and I continued to struggle,
trying to find myself. I started attending classes on a regular basis in
Chasidic philosophy that were offered in the community. But I was still
struggling with who I was.

When I was 22 years old, I decided it was time for me to find a
"mashpia," a spiritual mentor. Over the next two years, my mashpia
continuously encouraged me to study full-time in yeshiva, at Machon
Chana in Crown Heights or Machon Alta in Sfat, Israel.  I didn't want to
disappoint my parents who were very adamant about me completing my
degree and so I continued in college. The time came, though, when I felt
that I had to take a break and do something for my Self. So, this past
fall, I came back to Machon Chana, to study full time.

Machon Chana has been my "karva el nafshi ge-ala - draw near to my soul
and redeem it."  There are parts of my life before I got here that are
truly dark - spiritually, physically, emotionally. Being at Machon Chana
has not only taken me out of darkness but whatever darkness remains is
starting to become lighter! I have  acquired skills not only in being
close to G-d, but practical skills for life as well.. It's not an easy
undertaking...it takes actual physical work! People who know me know how
I've fought - really against my Self - to reveal this G-dly light in my
soul and I've only been here a few months. There is still much work to
be done, but that is really the point of life in this world: elevating
the soul and as result, the world around us. Machon Chana has given me
the tools to not only reveal this light on the inside but that it should
emanate to the outside.

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                               WHAT'S NEW
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                           The Invisible Book

The Invisible Book is the newest release from HaChai Publishing. In this
rhyming book for ages 2-5, a young boy ponders the invisible nature of
many things that are indisputably real.  An excellent introduction to
important Jewish concepts for the very youngest children. Written by
Bracha Goetz and delightfully illustrated by Patti Argoff

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                            THE REBBE WRITES
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                       Growth Is The Sign Of Life
                 From a letter of the Lubavticher Rebbe

The central and focal point of this month is the New Year for Trees,
which brings to mind the well-known Biblical analogy, "Man is like a
tree," an analogy that embraces many aspects, general and particular.
Since this analogy is given by the Torah, the Torah of Truth, it is
certain to be precise in all its aspects, each of which is instructive
in a general or particular way, for every one of us, man and woman.

For such is the purpose of every detail of the Torah (meaning,
"instruction") - to induce everyone to reflect on it and derive
practical instruction from it in everyday life.

Accordingly, I will refer to some general points of the said analogy.

To begin with, the essence of a living tree is, above all, that it
grows; its growth being the sign of its being alive.

The purpose of a tree is to be - in the words of the Torah - "a
fruit-tree bearing fruit after its kind, whose seed is within itself,"
which is, to produce fruit with seeds from which will grow trees and
fruits of the same kind.

Indeed, the perfection of a tree lies in its ability to produce trees
and fruits to all posterity.

To translate the above points in human terms:

A human being must grow and develop continuously, however satisfactory
the level may be at any given time. This is also indicated in the
expression of our Sages - whose sayings are concise but profoundly
meaningful - ma'alin b'kodesh, "holiness should be kept on the
ascendancy."

Similarly in regard to the second point: A human being should produce
"fruits" for the benefit of many others beside himself; the kind of
benefit which is coupled with delight.

The meaning of "delight" in this context will become clear from the
distinction in regard to the seven species of produce with which the
Land of Israel is praised in the Torah: A land of wheat and barley, and
vine, and fig, and pomegranate, a land of olive oil and (date) honey."
Wheat and barley are basic goods necessary for human sustenance, while
the fruits of trees are both sustaining and nourishing as well as
enjoyable and delightful.

And the third point: One must strive to produce "fruit-bearing fruits,"
so that the beneficiary enjoying these fruits should in turn become a
"fruit-bearing tree" like the benefactor.

Needless to say, the "fruits" of which we are speaking here, are those
which our Sages specify, saying, "the fruits of Tzadikim [the righteous]
(which includes every Jew and Jewess, as it is written, "And Your people
are all Tzadikim") are mitzvos [commandments] and Good Deeds."

These are some of the basic teachings of the New Year for Trees, which
have an immediate practical relevance to each and every Jew, man and
woman. There is a further allusion to this in the meaningful Jewish
custom to eat on this day various kinds of fruits which grow on trees.

And when a Jew firmly resolves to proceed from strength to strength in
all matters of Torah and mitzvos, both in regard to himself and in
disseminating them in his environment, he has the assurance of realizing
his fullest potential - "like a tree planted by streams of water, that
brings forth its fruit in its season; its leaf also shall not wither,
and whatever he does shall prosper."

Until the time will be ripe for the fulfillment of the promise, "the
tree of the field shall yield its fruit," in the plain sense, meaning
that even non-producing fruit trees shall produce fruits.

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                                CUSTOMS
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         Are there special customs associated with Tu B'Shevat,
                        the New Year for Trees?


Tu B'Shevat occurs on the 15th of the Hebrew month of Shevat (this year
January 22). It is customary to eat from the 5 fruits (of the seven
grains and fruits) that the Torah enumerates when describing how blessed
is the Land of Israel: "A land of wheat and barley, and (grape) vines
and fig-trees and pomegranates; a land of olive-trees and (date) honey."
(Deut. 8:8) These seven grains and fruits are called the seven species
(shivat haminim) and they have a special status. It is also customary to
eat a "new" fruit that one did not eat yet that season in order to
recite the "Shehecheyanu" blessing on it.

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                        A WORD FROM THE DIRECTOR
                         Rabbi Shmuel M. Butman
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This Shabbat is known as "Shabbat Shira - the Sabbath of Song." During
the Torah reading on this Shabbat we read the special song of praise to
G-d which the Jews sang after crossing the Red Sea.

For Shabbat Shira there is a special custom of putting out food for the
birds. The reason for this custom is quite interesting and originates in
this week's Torah portion. We read this week about the manna, the bread
from Heaven, with which the Jews were sustained during their 40-year
sojourn in the desert. The Jews were commanded to gather each morning
just enough manna to feed their families for the day. Miraculously, each
person had precisely the amount he needed for his family, not more and
not less.

Before Shabbat, the Jews were told to gather a double portion; no manna
would fall on Shabbat since it is forbidden to gather on the holy day.
Some scoffers among the Jewish people saved some of their manna from
that morning and scattered it on Friday evening. Their plan was to
gather the manna Shabbat morning and bring it into the camp, thus
discrediting Moses and proving their claim that Moses created his own
mitzvot.

During the night, after the manna had been strewn, birds came and
gathered it all up, thus vindicating Moses and sanctifying the Sabbath
among the Jewish people.

In appreciation and gratitude of the birds' deed, we make sure to give
them food on Shabbat Shira.

Might we not take a lesson from this Jewish tradition, passed on through
the ages? If it is customary to show gratitude to birds for such a small
act, might we not also learn to show gratitude to our brothers and
sisters for each act of kindness or caring that they do for us?

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                          THOUGHTS THAT COUNT
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Pharaoh drew closer (hikriv)...and the Children of Israel cried out (Ex.
14:10)

The Hebrew word "hikriv" is a transitive verb, implying that Pharaoh
caused others to draw near rather than himself. The Midrash relates that
this is because when Pharaoh pursued the fleeing Jews, it caused them to
become closer to G-d. In fact, the entire exile in Egypt and the
splitting of the Red Sea was only in preparation for the giving of the
Torah on Mt. Sinai - the ultimate expression of closeness and
attachment.

                                        (Sefer HaMaamarim Shin-Tav)

                                *  *  *


I will sing unto the L-rd, for He is most exalted (ga'o ga'a) (Ex. 15:1)

The word for exalted is repeated, indicating a double measure of pride
and nobility. The ancient Egyptians were a proud people, as it states
(Isaiah 30:7): "Thus I have called...Egypt...they are boastfulness."
Similarly, the horse is an arrogant creature, as the Talmud relates
(Pesachim 113): "Six things are said about the horse: it loves war...and
its spirit is haughty." An Egyptian riding upon a horse was arrogance
upon arrogance; thus "the horse and his rider He has thrown into the
sea."

                                        (Chidushei Agadot Maharsha)

                                *  *  *


And Pharaoh will say..."they are confused in the land, the wilderness
has shut them in" (Ex. 14:3)

Chasidism emphasizes the importance of prayer with proper intentions, a
state of mind attained by freeing oneself from the fetters of worldly
existence and immersing oneself in the holy words of the prayer book.
When a person gets stuck on the physical plane ("they are confused in
the land"), he is likely to find himself "shut in the wilderness" - that
the gates of heaven are closed to his prayers. In Hebrew, the letters of
the word "midbar" (wilderness), are the same as the word
"medaber"(speaker), i.e., the gates of prayer are shut to a person who
is distracted by his corporeality.

                                                   (Tiferet Shlomo)

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                            IT ONCE HAPPENED
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It was a perfectly beautiful Shabbat day. The Jew strolled at leisure
through the orchards and fields. The trees were heavy with their
fragrant bounty. The bees swarmed about the blossoming flowers; each
leaf glowed its own shade of green in the light. "How wonderful was the
world which the Creator bestowed upon his creations," thought the man.

Then he reached the boundaries of his own vineyard.  "What's that?" he
thought, as he noticed a hole in the fence. "Why, how could I have
failed to notice it before? I better come around early tomorrow morning
and fix it before wild animals or thieves have a chance to go in and eat
up the grapes. As it is, I have barely enough to support my family."

Then he suddenly stopped in his tracks and caught his breath. "Today is
Shabbat," he thought, "and I have just been thinking and planning my
mundane affairs on this sanctified day." The Jew, who was a pious man,
was shocked that he had just transgressed the sanctity of the day by
actually planning to perform work which was forbidden on the holy
Shabbat. He turned his thoughts away from the fence and returned to his
home and the joyous Shabbat meal that awaited him.

When Shabbat had come to an end the Jew remembered his vineyard and the
broken fence, and he felt a great sorrow at having profaned his holy
Shabbat with thoughts of repairing the fence. He decided that to atone
for his sinful thought, he would never fix the fence.

The summer passed, and the harvest approached. The vineyard was redolent
with the fragrance of ripe grapes. The man went out to his vineyard to
gather in his harvest thinking, "There probably aren't many grapes left.
I'm sure the foxes and rabbits must have passed through the hole and
eaten them all." But when he entered the vineyard he couldn't believe
his eyes. The grapes hung in gigantic clusters throughout the vineyard,
and the smell of the ripe grapes was overpowering. Every grape was
perfect, and there was no sign of any having been touched.

The man began to look for the hole in the fence. The damage had been
quite extensive, and so he was sure to find it with little searching.
And so he did, but in the place where there had been a gaping hole,
there was none. Instead, completely covering the hole, there was a
fully-grown caper bush. The Master of the Universe had caused it to
sprout there, to cover up the opening with its bushy branches.

The caper bush had not only saved the grape crop from certain
destruction, but it possessed a great value in itself. Every part of the
plant could be sold at great profit. The caper buds were preserved in
vinegar and savored as a tasty delicacy; the twigs and leaves were
enjoyed as well.

The pious Jew benefitted from the wondrous bush for the rest of his
life, earning from it a good livelihood to support his wife and
children. He enjoyed the bountiful harvest from it every year and it was
a reminder of the great holiness of the Shabbat and the miracle of G-d's
creation.

                                *  *  *


In the Holy Land, when the Romans ruled, Rabbi Yonatan was a judge in
his city. He was known to everyone as a fair and honest man. The court
convened in his home which was situated next door to that of a Roman.
Just as the two houses were adjacent, so were their fields. In Rabbi
Yonatan's field a majestic tree whose branches overspread the field of
the Roman grew, but the Roman didn't mind, for he loved to sit under its
welcome shade.

This Roman enjoyed disparaging the Jews, and he decided that it might be
entertaining to listen to some of the cases brought to Rabbi Yonatan.
One day two Jews came to the court arguing about a tree belonging to one
of them. The second Jew complained that the shade it created interfered
with his crops. The first man cried, "For twenty years the tree never
bothered you!"

The second replied, "That is true, but now it has become so large that
it damages my crops." Rabbi Yonatan listened and then instructed the men
to return the following day for the verdict.

The Roman thought, "I bet the rabbi postponed his decision because I was
here. He was probably afraid that I would demand that he cut down his
tree. I'll show him. I will embarrass him in front of the whole court."

Rabbi Yonatan called a carpenter and instructed him to go at once and
cut down all the branches of his tree which hung over his neighbor's
field. When the verdict was read next morning, the Roman was there. "You
must cut down the branches which hang over your neighbor's field, since
they are disturbing him," ordered Rabbi Yonatan.

The Roman leapt up and yelled, "Why, then, don't you cut down your tree
which is leaning over my property?"

"Go to the field and look at my tree. You will see exactly what this man
must do to his tree."

The Roman went, and to his surprise the tree no longer hung over his
field. He saw that Rabbi Yonatan made sure that he would not transgress
a ruling which he laid on another person. From that time on the Roman
had the greatest respect for Rabbi Yonatan and Jewish Law.

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                            MOSHIACH MATTERS
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Our prophets use the metaphor of trees to describe the Jewish people in
their ultimate state of fulfillment, the Era of the Redemption: (Isaiah
27:6) "In days to come, Yaakov will take root; Yisrael will blossom and
bud, and will cover the face of the earth with fruit." Isaiah (11:1)
also describes the coming of Mashiach similarly: "A shoot shall emerge
from the stem of Yishai, and a branch shall grow out from his roots."
May these prophecies be fulfilled in the immediate future.

                                        (Timeless Patterns in Time)

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              END OF TEXT - L'CHAIM 1004 - Beshalach 5768
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