Spark of Jewish Experience

There are pluses and minuses to being multicultural. The minus is one never  really has the feeling of any one culture being “home”.  We understand the joke, but don’t appreciate the humor as much as they do.  However, the plus is one gets a taste of an enormous amount of knowledge having being exposed to the diversity of the world and knowledge is a power.

    I recently was in a major car accident and  a famous wise expression kept haunting me throughout the ordeal.

The   Bukharian Jews frequently use an expression in a regretful connotation when reflecting on one who passed on; it’s two words “haifi odam”; its either said, just is or “haif” with a person who is no longer in this world attached to it.  An example,”Haifi Joe” would be the correct way it’s used.

It’s a loaded two words, deep in meaning and probably needs a couple of paragraphs to explain. Nevertheless an attempt will done as condensed and as clear as possible:

   What a pity on an individual life; what a pity on the essence of a person. How short life is and we are robbed of enjoying the particular individual. He/she left before we could enjoy them more. How vulnerable a human is; here today and gone tomorrow.  Only he was able to do it a certain way and he is not replaceable.  Life is too short!

   The “HAIFI ODAM” expression came into full bloom on two experiences in my life. When my father past away, my father-in-law, who was very close to his mother, appeased me by saying “Haifi onim” sadly. “The human being doesn’t have the worth as we seemingly think. They’re gone before we appreciate them”. The second experience of “haifi odam” is my recent accident experience.

   A few Saturday nights ago I made Havdalah (prayer that separates the Shabbat from weekdays) where then I was on my way, as I usually do every motzai Shabbat, to visit my elderly mother. I had some laughs with my kids and off I went.  Seven minutes later I awaken after loosing consciousness,  on the street next to my car, where I just had an accident, awaiting an ambulance. Funny, how one moment my family and I are enjoying each others company and moments later it can be an unfamiliar script. I remember thinking as I was regaining consciousness, looking up and seeing the accident scene, saying  “Oh, no, this bad dream is continuing. I did not make it to my mother.” There is a certain reassurance of the concept of habit and the accident had diverted my life from my usual routine.

   We can learn a valuable lesson from this week’s parsha to what we discussed above.

   This parsha contains the mitzvah of Bikkurim (offering one’s first fruits in Jerusalem) and the mitzvah of reading the associated Parshas Bikkurim (First-Fruit Reading). In Parshat Bikkurim, a person offers praise to the Almighty, expressing gratitude for the many kindnesses He has bestowed upon the Jewish people in general and on this farmer in particular. In expressing this gratitude, the person testifies that he not only appreciates what he has received now, but he appreciates the whole process by which he has arrived to that point in time. In Parshas Bikkurim, we trace the whole history of the Jewish people from the earliest Patriarchic era to our present day. In detailing the suffering we experienced in Egypt, the narrative includes the following declaration: “The Egyptians mistreated us and afflicted us, and placed hard work upon us.” [Devarim 26:6].

Rabbi Yissachar Frand mentions that the commentary the Alshich is bothered by a statement of the Sages. One of the three fundamental commandments in our holy Torah is the Mitzvah of Bikkurim. He remarks that Bikkurim would not seem to be in anyone’s list of the “top 3 mitzvot” and yet here this Midrash states that the world was created for the sake of this mitzvah! What is the meaning of this Midrash?

    Secondly, once again the topic of Yetziat Mitzraim – the exodus of Egypt is brought up. It seams like on almost every corner of Jewish holy scripture the Torah mentions the Exodus from Egypt. Even the first of the Ten Commandments where it says “I am Your G-d” it continues “Who took you out from Egypt”. Why does that incident stand out in all that is associated with belief in G-d?  Secondly, it seems there is an association to the mitzvah of bikkurim. What is it?
Rabbi Akiva Grunblatt quotes the Rambam’s question of how in the good old days did pangenetic worship start. Idle worship was very popular in biblical times. He answers: it actually started very innocently. They actually believed in G-d, however, they wanted to honor the second in command. What first was a tribute to, for example, the stars, later evolved into being the main focus of worship. They were under the impression that they weren’t worthy of going direct to G-d, so they settled. Who am I to bother the King. It’s a lack of respect to bypass the officers. This is how the second fiddle, the go between, transformed to the primary.

     The essential directive of Yetziat Mitzraim – exodus from Egypt was as G-d explicitly decrees “I will take you out” – not an angel! This is a clear message against paganism. It’s a direct attack toward the trend of the world. There is a direct relationship between G-d and an individual Jew. It’s personal, it’s a relationship.
We are about to enter the Judgment month and as one is aware: Rosh Hashana we emphasize and refer to G-d as King. However, we also express that he is Our Father – AVINU MALKEINU! This is the personal relationship we have with HIM and it’s a very special one!

     Rabbi Grunblat gives a parable. Jews have the kind characteristic of helping each other. One wealthy man committed himself to help a particular down and out individual.  They agreed every Monday, at 8:00am, the needy man will come and the wealthy man will give him a check for $2,000; this will be sufficient to sustain him for the week. After the initial Monday when he received the first installment the down and out man showed up, on Tuesday knocking at the door. “I just want to remind you  to fulfill your promise next Monday”. The rich man said “no problem, it’s ok, I remember our agreement”. The next day the poor man came again knocking on the door and reminding the rich man again.              The wealthy man surprised at the man’s appearance again, reiterated, “don’t worry, you’ll have it Monday. There is no need to remind me again”. Sure enough, though, the poor man came again the next day.

    We pray three times a day and for the most part have the same request. Why do we repeat the same thing?  If we pray once a week, I’m sure, G-d’s not going to forget. In fact, G-d should probably be annoyed at the constant repetitiveness, don’t you think?

   No, absolutely not!!! It’s personal; G-d wants the communication to constantly be there. It’s an intimacy we share with Our Maker. The personal relationship is important!  There is more opportunity for appreciation!
Let’s get back to the mitzvah of Bikkurim.
The Alshich answers that the mitzvah of Bikkurim contains within it something that is fundamental to being a human being — the obligation for people to express their gratitude and hakarat haTov- acknowledgement of gratitude. HaKarat haTov is so basic and primary that the whole world’s creation was actualized just for this mitzvah, which teaches us and trains us in the attribute of gratitude.

The Pirkei D’Rabbi Eliezer [Chapter 7] writes, “There is nothing harder for the Almighty to live with (as it were) than an ungrateful person. The reason Adam was exiled from the Garden of Eden was due to his ingratitude. His sin was not merely eating from the Tree of Knowledge (Etz HaDaas). For that sin alone, perhaps he could have remained in Gan Eden. The straw that broke the camel’s back, so to speak, was the fact that in response to G-d’s question ‘why he ate from the Etz HaDaat’, Adam said, “The woman you gave me, she gave me the fruit and I ate it.” As Rashi points out, Adam was being ungrateful. G-d presented him Chava as a gift and Adam complained that she caused him to sin.
Appreciation of G-d and the people around us who are created in G-d’s image is essential part of life.  However, we take those relationships for granted. Though, at times it’s not done intentionally. We tend to get busy with our own lives and focus on specific things therefore neglecting loved ones and old friends. Only after the individual passes on, do we regret not spending more time or being nicer to them.
There was a mutual friend from the neighborhood, Forest Hills, David Kagan, who had abruptly passed away a number of years ago at age 45.  His death shocked us all. A few weeks later I received a call from our mutual friend, Ronny Alibayof, who expressed interest in having a mini reunion. He told me “Kagan and I wanted to get

together for a long time  but never had the chance. I don’t want that to h

appen to us. Let’s enjoy each other’s company while we can, considering the uncertainty of tomorrow.”

We have to cherish our relationships and value them whether it be between us and G-d or with our loved ones. One never knows, one can be laughing and enjoying loved ones and seven minutes later things can change.