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Drop by Drop November 05, 2012 |
BS"D MarCheshvan It's hard to believe how fast Cheshvan has flown by. After weeks of planning, praying, shopping and chopping, the Yomim Tovim were suddenly over and we faced the task of "geting back to life." Three weeks later, I find myself wondering, where is the fruit of all the effort I poured into the months of Elul and Tishre?
Then came the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy. Those lofty months of prayer, of hope and joy, stand in stark contrast to the main event just one month later in MarCheshvan, "bitter Cheshvan." This month’s name tastes mar, “bitter” because her days are barren of holidays and the sweetness they bring to our lives. But this year there is more. Homes and valued possessions destroyed, simchos shuffled around. Lives lost. Darkness for millions. Tishre was a month of glorious opportunities to grow ever closer to our Creator. In Cheshvan, the spiritual potency of the holidays is often drowned in the business at hand. Recovery, digging out, reassessing what is really important. If those in Sandy's path are forced to so dramatically live this reality, then we are compelled to learn from it. As personal stories of tragic loss and magnificent acts of aid and rescue unfold, this MarCheshvan Water, and rain in particular, is the source of all physical life. Geshem, rain, is the root of the word gashmius, physicality.
The rains of Sandy destroyed, rather than built homes, possessions and lives and prod us to take another spiritual cheshbon, accounting. What role does our gashmius, our material possessions and longings, play in contrast to the effort and yearning we place on our ruchnius? The physical world is meant to sustain us only so far as to bring us to greater connection with our Creator. Rain ideally is a physical blessing Hashem sends to assist us, to bring us to our spiritual potential. The seeds of our growth, which we collected and planted last month, lay buried in the ground. Their fruit exists only in potential. The rain, in the right quantities and in the right places, will break apart the seeds-- and in the dark winter months, deep in the soil, something miraculous begins to happen. Like the seed hiding underground, the spiritual potential we worked on in the days of Tishre may seem lost to us. Cheshvan is the time to nurture them and watch for the first signs of life that will begin to sprout in the coldest days of the coming winter. This is the mission of the Jew, to flourish beneath the surface. When things look hopeless, the redemptive process is beginning. In the dark, empty month of MarCheshvan, and in the dark, empty spaces of our lives we slowly restore our homes to order and routine; we can either drown in the process or:
~In your mundane daily activities~ slip in sincere, whispered prayers. The bitterness of MarCheshvan washes away, drop by drop, in the sweetness of such actions. Our Sages tell us that Cheshvan will sprout the sweetest fruit of all, the dedication of the final Beis HaMikdash. Through our effort and longing, may it come speedily, in our day. May those physically affected by the storm, be blessed with Heavenly assistance and aid from those of us who were spared. Here's one way to help: The "Emergency Sandy Chesed Fund". May we all merit to receive only the rains of life giving bracha. >As the days darken and chill, soup becomes a welcoming and warming mainstay in the kitchen. Here are your links to delicious soup recipes to try and enjoy and share with others.
Red Bean and Barley Soup is a favorite on a cold winter night. It's economical and still elegant enough for Shabbos and it's a most requested recipe of mine. I call this "Diet Vegetable Soup" because I eat often it for lunch and with dinner after my holiday weight gain. It fills me up with almost zero fat and calories-as an added bonus, kids actually ASK for it!
All the soup recipes from The Kosher Channel & Cooking for The King
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