Mendel Bluming | Blogger

Many see prayer as a wish list. It’s as if G-d is some supernal vending machine, and prayers are the currency you drop into the slot to get what you want. If that were the case, this vending machine needs repair. But that’s not what prayer is. Prayer is a practice of gratitude and humility. We give thanks for what we have received, and humbly ask for what we need. We recognize that all we have is a gift, and whatever we lack can only be fulfilled by G-d, the source of all. He may give us what we ask, or He may not. We know that from the start. A person of faith knows that nothing is random, nothing is meaningless, and ultimately G-d is in control. This doesn’t mean bad things won’t happen. Prayer gives perspective to know that there is a bigger picture, strength to know that even hard times can have hidden blessings, and humility to know that we can’t control what happens, only how we react to it. I would call that a prayer that works. Mendel (Menachem) Bluming and Rabbi Moss and other

There is a story told by the great chassidic teachers, and it goes like this.    There was once a simple villager who won the lottery. In the olden days, this meant literally winning a pot of gold. So with excitement and anticipation, he set out on foot for a three day journey to the big city to collect his winnings.     When he came to the lottery office and saw his prize, he realized he could not possibly carry such a heavy pot of gold home. So with some of his new wealth he hired a wagon driver with a strong horse to carry him and his pot back to the village. The journey took several hours. Along the way they stopped off at the side of the road for a little rest. The wagon driver parked the wagon in what seemed to be a safe spot and the villager had a little nap under a tree.   Refreshed and ready to go, they jumped back onto the wagon to continue the journey. But after a short while the wagon driver stopped and said, "I think your pot of gold has been stolen." The v

A fish out of water does not die immediately. In fact, a fish out of water seems quite lively. It flips and flops and dances around, seemingly more active than it was before. An ignorant observer may think that the fish is better off on dry land, free from the confines of the sea. Just look how vibrant and energetic it has become!   But we know the truth. This tragic dance will not last. All that intense movement is not an indication of good health, it is a desperate and hopeless grasp at life. A Jew without Torah is a fish without water (teaching of Rabbi Akiva, Talmud Brochos 61b). We can flip flop for a while, jumping from one ideology to another, this save-the-universe cause or the next, but it won't last. You can only stay Jewish without Torah for a generation, maybe two. Then the flipping and flopping stop altogether. This is not about being orthodox. It's about being immersed in genuine Judaism. And that is open to anyone. In your own way, with your critical mind a