Aish HaTorah Conference 2013 - Stamford, New York

Although my more recent "Jewish education" (aka, the three classes I have been taking Monday through Wednesday at Aish Western) started in October, I'm going to begin this blog by discussing my time at the Aish 2013 conference. It's an experience I will never forget and one that I hope to relive again in the future.

At first, I was hesitant to accept a scholarship from Aish Western since I wasn't keen on spending over eight hours in a car with people I didn’t really know, to go to a place I had never been before, to meet people who I knew would ultimately put my “Jewishness” to shame. All "excuses" for not going, of course, but they were anxieties nonetheless. 

I am happy to report that everything I thought would go wrong didn’t. More importantly, everything I didn’t think could ever happen, happened. Also, I don’t think I’ve ever consumed more food in my entire life.

Without going into too much detail—because by golly there was a ton of information—I’d like to share with you the “Coles Notes” version of what I took away from the conference.

On Friday, I attended Adrienne Gold’s talk on Top Ten Ways to Raise a Mensch (or Be One Yourself). Some of her points included giving to charity, honouring your parents, and respecting the environment. The two most important points I took away from her talk were the first and last points.

Her first point was being accountable and taking responsibility for your actions. She told the story of a King who was journeying through the woods. Every 20 feet or so, he would see a tree with target circle and an arrow right at the bullseye. He was impressed by what he saw and wanted to meet the archer who was able to shoot with such precise and consistent accuracy. Following the path of arrows, he reached a cottage and knocked on the door. A young man with a sling of arrows on his back opened the door and greeted the King. The King asked the archer if the arrows he had seen on the trees belonged to him. The archer answered in the affirmative and the King implored the young archer to come work for him in his army as an instructor to other archers. The archer said he would be happy to serve the King. The King then asked him how he had mastered such a skill. The archer replied, “Very simple, your majesty. I shot the arrow and then drew the target”.

Over the course of the next few days, I realized that this was one of the central themes of many of the keynote talks. Mr. Benjamin Brafman, in his keynote address entitled The Jew in the Boardroom: The Challenges of Being a Proud Jew in a Non-Jewish World, implored all of us to “own” our Jewish identity. That when we wear a kippah, or openly acknowledge that we are Jewish, we must act in a manner that does not leave us open to criticism from the secular world. It is not simply enough to claim that we are Jewish; we must bear the responsibility that comes with it. When we make a mistake, it is not simply the individual who is called out for it, but the entire Jewish nation. In order to be a “mensch”—a good person—we must always be accountable for what we do and what we say.

Adrienne’s final point also struck a chord with me as well. She told the story of two jesters who worked for a King. One jester was gifted with words, the other for—literally—making a ‘fool’ out of himself. They were in competition for the position of the King’s Jester and they had to come up with something brilliant in order to beat out the other. The day before the competition, the precocious jester learned that the other jester had trained a cat to stand on its hind legs and serve tea. He thought to himself, “How will I ever come up with something that will top that?” After pondering the dilemma, he finally came up with a solution. The next day, when the other jester’s cat was on its hind legs ready to serve the tea, the jester with no actual performance of his own, dropped a mouse in front of the cat. The cat, true to its nature, dropped the tray and chased after it.

Adrienne emphasized that if we, as Jews, are to better ourselves in our daily lives, we must fight against our natures in order to remain upright. We must ignore the unimportant and superficial distractions of the everyday world and work towards elevating ourselves. The more distractions we learn to ignore and overcome, the more time we will be able to spend in bettering ourselves and taking care of the world. So we must remember not to ‘drop the tray’ since we have been trusted with an important mission and we must fight to see it through.

Later that evening, I had the privilege of hearing Rabbi Yom Tom Glaser speak on Four Steps in Finding Your Special Purpose. His steps were as follows: 

1)      Become “No-one” 

2)      Determine what bothered you most throughout your life

3)      What is your one greatest, applicable (to the world) skill

4)      How can you apply that skill in order to counter what bothered you in your life?

The process of becoming “no-one” certainly isn’t easy. I find it difficult to eradicate my “I” altogether in order to get to the bare bones of who I am and what I’m doing here. But in order to get to your “me”, it’s something we all need to do.

The thing that troubled me most growing up was that, as humans, we are expected to go out into the world and gain experiences that would ultimately help us mature and gain valuable wisdom. My greatest difficulty was accepting how this could be expected when almost all experiences we gain “taint” us in various ways. By “taint”, I simply mean that with every added experience or insight, we lose more and more of our innocence. Part of me feels that I am one of the few people who actually think about this on a regular basis, so it may be a difficult concept to understand. I feel that the more I live in the world, the more weighted down and burdened I feel by what I know and what I’ve experienced.

By far, my greatest applicable skill(s) would have to be my never-ending passion and my ability to convey deep meaning through words. Although I feel burdened by my sense of “taintedness”, I still am madly in love with the world and want to do everything I can to see it thrive. Moreover, writing and reading are two things I can’t imagine living without.

How I plan to apply these skills specifically to what bothers me most is somewhat difficult to say. If anything, I should have been a therapist. However, I feel that my current vocation—English PhD candidate—still provides me with the foundations I need to see this through. I’d like to be able to reach as many people as possible with my writing. The goal always was to write books that would inspire the world to be better. I am, on the whole, slightly overwhelmed by that self-expectation, but I refuse to let it overpower me. Even if I never publish a book, blogging is still a tangible way of doing something meaningful with what I learn in my studies. And, who knows, maybe one day I’ll be a speaker at an Aish Conference and can share my (limited) knowledge with young professionals recently finding their way back to Judaism.

Later that same evening, I heard three keynote speakers: Adrienne Gold, Nissim Black, and Charlie Harary.

Adrienne’s talk From Prada to Prayers: A TV Fashionista’s Journey Back from Style to Substance hammered home the importance of not just substance over style, but of being true to yourself. All the money in the world won’t buy you happiness unless you feel that you’re doing something worthwhile in your life. Not that there is anything wrong with being a Fashion expert, especially if it is your calling. Her central message was that true success should not be defined by fame or fortune, but by the kind of person you choose to be.

Nissim Black is truly an inspirational human being. Despite the overwhelming amount of pain he witnessed, which would have driven anyone a million miles from God, he chose to learn more about his own religion and discover the truth about himself and his faith.

It was the last talk by Charlie Harary, however, that transported me back 15 years ago to before I turned my back on Judaism and all concept of religion in general.

It was Charlie’s intensity and passion that evoked a nostalgic memory of Hebrew School. As a little girl, we would learn our Jewish alphabet, put on performances for our parents about the Jewish holidays, and—what always stood out most for me—sing songs about Hashem and how proud we were to be Jewish.

I can’t recall the exact moment when I lost my Jewish pride, but I do know that listening to Charlie brought it all back for me.

The central message of his talk was the passion we should be experiencing as Jews. He told the story of the heroic Maccabees—a story I have heard many times over—and brought it to life. But more importantly, he taught me something new about it.

Charlie went back 300 years before the Common Era, long before the famous Miracle of Lights occurred, and said that even before Antiochas arrived, Judaism was beginning to die out.

Alexander the Great was taught, by Aristotle, to believe that man was at the center of the universe. With his Hellenism in tow, Alexander journeyed everywhere in order to enlighten (and conquer) the world. When he arrived in Israel, he began to, slowly, wipe out Judaism. He didn’t do it by force, but he made it extremely difficult for anyone to practice.

And the Jews, despite living happily with their Judaism, essentially allowed it to happen.

So by the time Antiochas came, most of the foundational work of eradicating the Jew had been laid out. The temple was destroyed, those who observed were put to death, and what was left of the Jewish people was driven into caves.

They were not soldiers. They had no weapons. But they fought, believed, and won.

The oil lasting for 8 days was just for show. The Maccabees themselves became a “light onto the nation”. Unlike other Jewish holidays, we don’t have to go to synagogue. But we do light the menorah. And not just anywhere—God asks us to put it in our front window.

Channukah was, by far, my favourite time of year growing up. I loved the presents, the games, the lights, the decorations, and hanging out with my family. In fact, seeing the menorahs in the windows of my neighbours’ houses appealed more to my sense of aestheticism than my understanding of its location there.

In Hebrew School, I was taught that Channukah was the “Festival of Lights”—that we were ultimately celebrating the miracle of the burning oil and how God saved us.

But it is so much more than that. In the face of almost certain death, the Maccabees fought to defend what was left of their faith. In a world where, despite being free to practice without fear of persecution, Jewish people, on the whole, are no longer ‘fighting’ for their faith.

Channukah serves as not only a reminder of a time when we almost lost our Judaism, but also as a means to wear our Judaism ‘loud and proud’.

Moreover, in placing the menorah in our front windows, we boldly say to the world that we will, no matter what, continue to light up the world with our greatness.

Charlie’s talk Changing the World: A Jewish Manifesto has given me a new motto:

“I am a Jew. And I am on Fire.”

The motto is now the title of my blog. 

Despite the amazing other talks, which include every keynote talk for the remainder of the conference, I would like to conclude on Charlie’s talk on The Jewish Secret: How to Find Success in Every Aspect of Your Life.

Although I could re-write the entire talk based on the elaborate notes I took since Shabbat was over by then, there is one specific part I would like to share.

In today’s world, everyone seems to be more impressed by, or more aware of, “BIG GOD”—the God who performs sweeping and awe-inspiring miracles for the world to see. But most people do not pay any attention to “Daddy God”—the God that watches over us every day of our lives.

During Charlie’s re-telling of the story of Joseph, he spoke of one detail of the story (again, a story I have heard many times) that I never heard before. When Joseph was sold into slavery, the Torah states that the caravan had spices. From Rashi, we know that the caravan would have normally been carrying petroleum/tar, but in this particular instance, it was carrying spices.

Coincidence? Of course not. 

The caravan had spices to remind Joseph that he was not alone. God, in this case, was in the “details”.

For the last 15 years, I have felt that my life has been nothing but a series of random coincidences and a mish-mash of unfortunate events with a fairly (thankfully) sustained spattering of good times.

Ultimately, though, I thought I was simply hurtling forward with no real sense of direction. My chosen career path is something I care deeply about, of course, but in terms of the “big picture”, I am desperately afraid of living a life without meaning.

It has taken me a long time to get to this point. The innocent little girl that I was 15 years ago accepted God as part of her everyday life because the idea brought her real happiness that someone was, in fact, “watching over” her.

I spent the last 15 years feeling utterly alone. I love my family, especially my parents, my friends, my academic life—but something was always missing. And still is, in many ways. 

I don’t really know if learning more about Judaism or pursuing God will necessarily fill the hole in my life. 

But, at the very least, I am now willing to look for him in the everyday details of my life.

And that, I have to admit, gives me some comfort.

Thank you to Aish HaTorah and the Mandels for providing me with this opportunity. I can’t imagine where else I’d rather begin this journey. 

MB