Confessions of a Broncoholic

1/20/2014      

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Dear Henry,
                Euphoria. Delight. Unadulterated Joy. Pure Happiness. Contentment. These are the only adequate words to describe my mood yesterday. No, I did not have a child. Yes, the Broncos dismantled the New England Patriots.
                As I left synagogue after dutifully reciting the afternoon and evening service, and became aware that the score was now 20-3 in favor of the Good Guys, I was astounded at my genuine sense of delight and happiness. Utter joy, that I literally have not felt since holding my youngest in my arms on the night he was born a year and a half ago. Indeed, I was one very, very happy rabbi.
               This feeling of genuine simcha (happiness) kind of surprised me.  I have not lived in Colorado in over ten years. I am now in my late twenties. I do not own a television-- not wanting to be bothered by the values promoted on it. I traded in my Eminem CDs for 8th Day CDs. I like to wake up early in the morning to immerse myself in the vast Sea of the Talmud.  As I matured, I came to realize, at the end of the day, how futile professional sports are. After all, what personal connection do I have to the Broncos? Because I happened to be born in Colorado, the Broncos success can really determine my happiness? Do the players know I exist, care about me, or root for me in my own life?  Some might be good guys, while others mights be arrogant, violent, and downright nasty people.
         And when I reflected further, I grappled with some of my emotions: How I was delighted when Wes Welker took out Akib Talib from the game; how I was cherishing Bill Belichek's scouring, kvetching, and downright suffering; how I was savoring the Tom Brady pout, with his head buried miserably in his shaky hands; and most  satisfying of all--how I vengefully mocked the miserable Boston sports fans who were so nasty in their arrogant comments about the Rockies in the 2007 World Series. I eagerly opened Boston Sports news articles, and websites, rejoicing over their misery.
             And yet, I am a peace-loving, revenge-hating rabbi. I don't want people getting injured. I don't want people to be sad. And I don't believe in revenge.
            These mixed emotions really troubled me, and I asked my better half why it is that I love the Broncos so much. As always, she told me something incredibly profound:You have spent your whole life investing crazy amounts of time in the Broncos-- you cannot suddenly stop loving them. That love does not just disappear. She is right. Rabbi Eliyahu Dessler famously teaches that in hebrew, the root of the word for "love" means "to give." The Torah teaches that the more one invests, and gives to another, the more he comes to love them. And I have invested hours upon hours of my life into this team--I love them.
          I will conclude this piece as confused, and bewildered and perplexed as I began this piece: On one hand I have the pure joy of victory under my belt-- and absolute confidence that the Broncos will take care of business in two weeks in New York shutting up Richard Sherman for hopefully a very long time. And yet, on the other hand, I have profound disappointment in my sadistic emotions about my team defeating the other team. I am better than that.
        However, one lesson that I can take out of all of this with absolute clarity, is the following logical argument: If I have invested immense amounts of time and effort into loving my local football team- your Denver Broncos, the best offensive team in the history of the National Football League, who I do not even know, who don't know me, who have never tangibly ever given anything to me, then certainly, without a doubt, I ought to invest all the time and effort in the world into loving my fellow man--those I interact with on a daily basis. The Torah teaches us that we are required to love our fellow human being as we love ourselves. This is puzzling--after all, how can the Torah command us to feel an emotion such as love? One answer is that we can in fact choose to love-- by investing, and giving to others. The more you invest, the more you love. Any parent can tell you, the more sleepless nights you have taking care of your children; the more diapers changed, the more you absolutely adore your precious child.
      My New Years resolution is to start to love others, the way I love the Broncos-- to learn from the way I invest time into the Broncos, and to apply that to everyone else around me. Maybe then, will I discover the futility of my relationship with the soon to be three time Super Bowl Champs--The Denver Broncos.

Sincerely,
Danny Wolfe

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Eight Crazy Nights: A Deeper Look

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11-29-2013

Dear Henry,    

        Anyone who has ever heard of Adam Sandler is well aware of the origins of the Jewish holiday of Chanukah. As Adam Sandler sings about in a song that later becomes a movie, “Instead of one day of presents, we get eight crazy nights!” The Talmud tells us that when the Jews returned to the Holy Temple which had been desecrated by the Syrian Greeks, they found one small jug of pure oil, that had not been contaminated. It seemed like there was only enough oil to last one night, but in the end, it lasted for eight nights. As a commemoration for this miracle, the Rabbis enacted an eight day holiday of thanksgiving to G-d.

            If one delves into this idea a little deeper, it seems a little bit puzzling. We know that there was also another very significant miracle that took place at the same time—namely that a small band of Jewish priests, overtook a massive force from the Syrian Greek army, in an unprecedented, shocking military victory. If the Jews would have lost the military campaign, the results would have been catastrophic. And yet, when the rabbis decided to enact a holiday to commemorate these events, they chose to commemorate the miracle of the oil lasting eight days instead of the more significant military victory. The obvious question becomes—why then, is Chanukah based on the miracle of the oil, as opposed to the key military victory?

            Rabbi Chaim Shmuelevitz gives a phenomenal answer to this question by giving a very powerful metaphor: Imagine if there was a family who lost a very precious object. For a full week, the whole family is searching for the object, with no luck. Finally, the five-year-old boy finds it, and immediately, the father runs over to him, gives him a hug and a kiss on his head. For that boy, there are two things happening: A) The overall, large-scale satisfaction of the whole family finding the lost object, and B) the personal delight and immense pride that the child experiences when his father gives him a kiss on his head. For that child, that kiss was priceless.

            Rabbi Shmuelevitz says that this was the reason that the rabbis enacted the holiday of Chanukah. While it is true, and undeniable, that on a macro level, the larger miracle clearly was the military victory, what we want to remember throughout the generations is how G-d enabled one small jug of oil to last for eight days. Were we to have walked into the Temple, as victors of the battle, that surely would have been enough. But in G-d’s immense love for us, He gave us the miracle of the oil lasting for eight days. He demonstrated His love for us by giving a timeless kiss on our head, and that is what the Rabbis want us to remember , and to cling to, during Chanukah, the darkest time of the year.

            Rabbi Shimshon Pincus points out that even nowadays, there are tremendous miracles happening all the time. Our problem, however, is that we are unable to perceive them. We are unable to perceive the kiss and embrace of our loving Father. He likens this reality to the reality of the abundance of sound waves that exist in the vast universe. It is true that there are sound waves—but if we don’t have the right instruments, they will never be perceived. On Chanukah, our job is to work on perceiving these daily miracles; to build our own personal radio transmitters, so that we too, can bask in the unending love of the Almighty. 

Sincerely,

Danny Wolfe

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IPhones, Shabbos, and JetBlue

11-27-2013
Dear Henry,
       Before I begin my long-awaited blogg post (its practically been a month since my last one-- sorry to all of you dedicated readers checking your facebook statuses every day anxiously awaiting tidings of my new post), I wanted to give a shout out to my big Little Man, Avrumie, on the occasion of his fifth birthday. It was 5 years ago today, the day before Chanukah that he made his grand entrance into the world in Up-town Manhattan, and he has given us unending joy ever since.
      On November 6, 2013, I received a very disturbing email from my favorite airline, Jet Blue. Sorry to all you good folks reading this blogg who work for Southwest-- I love you too-- but there is nothing quite like Jet Blue. Maybe its the blue potato chips. Maybe its the incredible customer service. Maybe its the pleasant late night flights. I don't quite know what it is. But Jet Blue is awesome.
       The subject of the email instantly caught my attention: "Take off without Shutting off!" The email then said, "We'll leave you to your own devices. We know you and your personal electronic devices go hand-in-hand. Now you can use smartphones, tablets and similar devices from departure gate to arrival gate..."
     Henry, it used to be, back in the old days, that if you wanted to go online, you had to sit in front of your big fat desk top, wait for AOL 3.0 to dial up, and then you would be connected. Then, we evolved to world of cable connections, wifi, and eventually 3G and 4G. But even in the more modern times, whenever people would go on a subway or airplane, they would either have to sit down nicely and listen to themselves think, read a paper, listen to music, or just close their eyes. The one consistent sanctuary people would have from constant connectivity was the airplane flight. But now, because our devices and us go "hand in hand," that sanctuary has been stripped from us, and we can always remain connected.
     I was disappointed to read the email from Jet Blue, because I think that we are all addicted to our iphones and androids, and society is simply perpetuating our addiction. You might be thinking, dear Henry, "whats so bad about this addiction to our iphones? After all, it means that I can read your blogg mere seconds after you post it!" Henry, while this is true, and undeniably a tremendous benefit of the speedy connectivity we find ourselves in, it is also true and undeniable that our addiction to technology has ruined our ability to communicate with one another. It is hard to focus on the person we are speaking to when our phones are buzzing in our pockets. It is hard to bother dialing a phone number, when I can send you a text, in a shorter amount of time.  It is hard to read a book,  have a meaningful conversation, or spend quality time with children, when I can see whats going on with my fantasy football team right now, or when I can see what interesting tweets are flying around the twitterverse.
     But as much as these devices are messing up our ability to communicate, they are also messing up our ability to think. Rather than bother thinking, I usually just pull out my phone, and check my email for the 78th time today. Its as if we are afraid to be left alone to our own thoughts, and I think it messes with our ability to be thoughtful, introspective, creative individuals.
    Thank G-d, as an observant Jew, I have Shabbos. On Shabbos I have no choice but to power down, and there is no greater feeling of serenity in the world. Having the opportunity to connect to myself, my loved ones, and G-d, with no outside distractions, is more precious than a little baby playing with his or her toe jam. In fact, even the non-religious world, is picking up on this concept, referring to a "secular sabbath," in which people turn off their devices. (See great article here: http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/02/fashion/02sabbath.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0)

       I double dogg dare all of my devoted readers, (and I am also speaking to myself) to consider three steps to overcome our addiction: A) Walk around 1 day with a pen and paper, and make tally's every single time we check our email from our phones. This will prove to us, that we are in fact, insanely addicted to our phones. B) Read this essay that deals with how to connect to yourself: http://www.aish.com/sp/48w/48971986.html C) Take a break from your phone- an I-phone shabbos if you will. Turn off your phone at 4:15 Friday afternoon, and leave it off till 5:30 PM Saturday evening. You will thank me.

To Jet Blue, I thank you. I thank you for waking me up, exposing me to the tragic reality that my phone and I really do go hand in hand. That needs to change. And it will.

Sincerely,
Danny Wolfe

Halloween: What on Earth am I Missing?

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10-27-2013
Dear Henry,

       I am going to toot my own horn for just a second. If you haven't noticed I am a very hip rabbi. To say I'm in with the times would be a massive understatement. I know what Breaking Bad is. I know the theme songs to the OC and One Tree Hill by heart. I know Snoop Doggy Dogg changed his name to Snoop Dogg, and then again, to Snoop Lion. I have two fantasy football teams, and I am beating most of my opponents. To put it simply, I am cooler than ice cold. Cooler than the other side of the pillow. After receiving a text message from me, One girl responded "a texting rabbi! I always knew Jews were so cool." Little did she know I also got BBM. Like I said, I'm cool.

      So it greatly confuses me that I completely, and absolutely do not for the life of me understand the American borderline obsession-like craze about Halloween. I write this not as a religious Jew, but as a father of adorably precious little children. 

      I first noticed this feeling of confusion last year in August, when we first moved back to America, after having lived in Jerusalem Israel for two years. We went to the book store, and I was amazed to see that the whole kids section was dedicated to scary stories involving Halloween, which was coming up right around the corner, in a mere 3 months. I thought to myself quite simply, as much as I want my children to be mortified and spooked before they go to sleep, I will pass on these books for now.

      I again recalled this feeling of bewilderment a few weeks ago when I was in New Jersey for a Shabbos. We were walking around a large community and I saw on every other lawn statues of bloodied, mangled corpses, some playing the piano. Some were half-buried. Again I thought of my kids: this is probably awesome seeing bleeding dead looking people in people's lawns. These are healthy images to inhabit the innocent minds of my 2 and 4 year olds. Although an observant Jew, I get the appeal of having beautiful lights on one's trees outside, or even a friendly looking dude with a cool white beard on a sled, with some deer behind him. Thats pretty cool. But bloodied, mangled corpses?Hands and legs sticking out of the ground?
      Henry, maybe I am old fashion, but this type of stuff downright gives me the willies. 

      Maybe instead of having limbs scattered across the lawn, we could make new types of lawn decorations. Maybe we should start making statutes of a young man or woman helping an elderly person cross the street. Or maybe a young whippersnapper helping up a stranger who had tripped and fallen to the ground. Or perhaps depict an image of a person giving money or a sandwich to someone less fortunate. Or even a high school student shlepping her grandfather's groceries up to his apartment.  These are the images I want to implant into my children's brains when they walk outside-- not the annual vivid memory of bloodied human remains.
      Is our obsession with the morbidity of Halloween any indication of our society at large?  Like, perhaps our TV shows are too violent, and our video games are too graphic?  Am I living on a different planet? What am I missing? Maybe all this stuff is good old fashion plain fun. But can't we have fun by going to a baseball game, playing checkers, or going apple-picking?
     This might sound radical--which is crazy-- but when my kids get older, I would much rather they remember their childhood autumns by the stunningly exquisite leaves on the trees, than by the ghosts and skeletons hanging from them.
       
Sincerely,
Danny Wolfe

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Judaism and Bowls of Salad

10-18-2013

Dear Henry,
      Now that the US Government shutdown is over, I am also putting an abrupt end to my blogg shutdown. You see, dear Henry, as an act of heroic and darn-right patriotic solidarity to the Grand Canyon, which was closed as a result of the shutdown, I decided I would be a hypocrite if I did not also shut down my blogg. So I shut it down. But now, the government is not shut down anymore. So, my blogg is not shut down either.  You see, America is by far, one of the greatest nations on G-d's green earth. I love this nation. My country tis of thee; sweet land of liberty. O beautiful for patriot dream, That sees beyond the years Thine alabaster cities gleam Undimmed by human tears!  
    In short, America is awesomely awesome. What is so amazing about America? Is it that it is the Great Melting Pot where everyone becomes the same and melts together as one? Or I would suggest that perhaps this is not such a great thing, for everyone to lose their own personal identities and characteristics. Maybe the awesome thing about 'murica is that I can be a religious Jew living and practicing freely, while you can be a devout Protestant, living how you want, and he can be an observant Muslim living according to his traditions, and she can be a Buddhist, doing her thing. We can all live in the same salad bowl, each of uniquely retaining our own identities. 
    My question, that came up this past week, is why is it that so many of my Jewish brethren so desperately want to be melted into a massive pot, losing their Jewish identities? This past week I probably asked several hundred college students in a campus on the East Coast of this beautiful country of ours two questions: A) Are you Jewish? B) If so, are you interested in a FREE trip to Israel. Henry, I am now about to analyze these two basic seemingly simplistic simple questions, and then I am going to call it a day. 
    Firstly, we will deal with question number 1: Are you Jewish. For some reason, the word "Jewish" itself inherently displays ambivalence and lack of conviction. Have you ever had a Christian say I am Christian-ish. Or a Muslim say I am Muslim-ish. Or, do they tell us, proud as can be, "I am a Christian! I am a Muslim!" This ambivalence and shyness about being Jewish was on clear display this week, as we would ask people. There would be a group of 3-4 Jews, and after hearing the question, the Jew would look away, while the non-Jewish friend would nudge them, and say, "she's Jewish," at which point the Jew would dejectedly look down, accepting defeat. 
    Now, we will analyze question 2: Do you want a free trip to Israel? That is a seemingly straight forward question that does not even need our analysis. I walked over to a table of three students who were studying. I said, "Sorry to interrupt, but are you Jewish, and do you want a free trip to Israel?" The guy at the table looked down embarrassedly, and told me he is Jewish, but does not want the free trip to Israel. The girl at the table looked me straight in the eye and said, "I am not Jewish, but would LOVE the free trip to Israel. Maybe if we could somehow change places, I would be happy to go!"
This happened more than once. Can you imagine if you went to a Catholic, and asked them if they wanted a free trip to Rome, or the Vatican, and they hurriedly declined? Its hard to fathom. 
    Admittedly, throughout our glorious history, us Jews have sometimes had it rough. We have been through the Crusades, expulsions, pogroms, and outright genocide. However people mistakenly think that all of our problems would just go away if we ran away from our identities and just melded into the culture in which we live, losing any trace of our past. But that doesn't work. History has brutally and tragically disproven that false premise.
    The point, dear Henry, is that all of us in general--including the thousands upon thousands of readers of this blogg across the globe--and us Jews in particular, need to be proud of where we come from. We shouldn't be shy about our religion. We should flaunt it.  Just like the bright yellow pepper stands apart in my blue salad bowl on the dinner table, so too, we need to stand proud in the salad bowl that is American Society.  

Sincerely,
Danny Wolfe

To the Shutdown US Government: I Thank You!

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Dear Henry,

      Inasmuch as the American Government is currently shutdown, I decided now would be an appropriate time to write a new blogg entry. My thought process went as follows: I have thousands of viewers across the vast planet. Hundreds of them are undoubtedly government officials, park rangers, and museum employees. Therefore, they need something to do these next few days-- so  figured I would do the United States a service, and provide everyone effected from the shutdown with compelling, beautiful, thought-provoking, and downright brilliant reading material. So to all my readers from America to China-- you're very welcome.

     Tonight I wanted to write about one Friday morning in the month of April. For many, April 19th 2013 was a day like any other. But for the city of Boston, April 19 2013 is a day that will not soon be forgotten. Boston was locked down, and the police and SWAT teams were patrolling the streets, performing a manhunt for the cruel, sadistic Boston Marathon Bomber.  As I sat, staring at cnn.com, watching this, I realized that every single one of these brave, heroic boston Police officers was risking their lives so that Boston-- and all of America-- could be safe. I realized, almost in an epiphany, that every day, police officers and firefighters risk their lives, so that we can be safe and live in comfort and security. 

     Then I thought to myself, its quite likely that these heroes are greatly undervalued and under appreciated. How often do we thank them? How often do we look at them with disdain, casting them off, along with their stupid speed traps? How many times do we laugh uncontrollably when we see their cruisers parked outside Dunkin Donuts? 

     I realized that every day we need to value and thank these heros-- But with the Bostonian police officers on the streets of Boston actively risking their lives-- today was the day to express my gratitude. I decided to bring these heros some goodies to express my thanks. I drove to Trader Joes, and I purchased a few of the containers of their deliciously delicious chocolate peanut-butter cups. From TJs I headed down to the station. When I walked in, a lady was chatting with the police man, who signaled for me to come in. I put down the bag of goodies and said, "with everything going on in Boston, I felt responsible to come in and express to you the incredible amount of gratitude I have towards you guys, for protecting us. Sometimes you might feel unnoticed and unappreciated. But we notice you, and appreciate it very much. Thank you, and G-d bless you." The policeman dumb-foundedly looked at me, and asked what organization these were from. Surprised by the question, I simply responded, no organization-- they were just from me-- a simple American. 

    Judaism teaches that gratitude is a fundamental value incumbent upon us at all times. The Torah teaches that the first thing I am required to do every morning, even before jumping out of bed-- is to thank the Almighty for allowing me to wake up, and remain alive. Undoubtedly, hundreds of people every night throughout the world do not wake up. How fortunate are we every day that G-d returns us our souls. 

    It is hard to fathom anything more frustrating than working very hard at something, expending enormous effort on behalf of someone, and going unnoticed, and unthanked. One of the harshest descriptions one can use to describe a job, is to describe it as "thankless." A person can go through a day, accomplish incredible things, and go completely unvalued. Most of us though who go un-thanked (fortunately I am not included in this category of human beings) don't receive acknowledgement for trivial things like making the coffee, or helping a coworker. Police, however, go un-thanked as they risk their own lives for our safety and well-being. And the truth us, most human beings have a basic need to be acknowledged. Fascinatingly, the word in hebrew for gratitude, "Hoda'ah" is the same as the word in hebrew for acknowledgement.  To thank someone is to acknowledge them as a human being. To ignore them, is to dehumanize them. There are stories told of how victims of the Nazi Holocaust demanded that their murderers look them in the eye before killing them--forcing them, at the very least, to acknowledge that they were butchering not rodents, but human beings.

    Despite having no malicious intent, many of us hurriedly run through our busy lives, failing to thank those who help us. It is our duty as decent human beings, to start thanking anyone and everyone. Thank the nice person who cleaned your table before you sit down to eat. Thank the lady for being your cashier after buying a bagel. Thank your parents for their constant love. Thank your spouse for being your spouse. Thank your garbage man and your mail man. Thank your child's teachers. Thank the shutdown American government for giving you freedom-- for us Jews, a religious freedom unprecedented in the history of our long and brutal exile.

 And most importantly, thank the Almighty for all the wonderful gifts He has given you. 

Sincerely,

Danny Wolfe

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Lost Luggage and Yom Kippur

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Dear Henry,
     With the grace of the Lord Above, right now, somewhere out there, in America's Southwest, one suitcase is residing with its rightful owners-- who had not seen their precious suitcase in about 3 months.
     You see Henry, it all started about six months ago. A buddy of mine knew that I would be traveling to the country in which he resided. My friend, whom, for the noble purposes of protecting his identity and maintaining his privacy, we will call Alfred, made a request of me. He knew that I would be visiting the country in which he and his family were residing. He also knew that within a few months he would be moving back to this beautiful country of ours, the magnificent United States of America. Therefore, he kindly asked me if I would transport his bag back to the States for him, as in 3 months he would be traveling with his beautiful, blossoming family back to the States, with many many other bags and goodies. The memories were fresh in my own mind of how we made a similar move. We shipped boxes in boats overseas, and shlepped 9 bags filled with all of our belongings in the airport. With only two of us, yours truly, and my beautiful, sweet, loving wife, we were able to move the luggage-carrier-thing you rent at the airport five feet at a time, then we would go back and stroll our screaming, delicious children. Then we would move the luggage carrier 5 more feet, and then, yet again, stroll our little angelic kinderlech. Then, a massive bag would fall off of the luggage caddy, nearly missing a child. With this vivid image still freshly etched in my mind, I happily obliged, excited to be able to remove this burden from my friend.
      One evening, on my trip, my buddy came over with his bag, and I happily took it from him. We went over the contents of the bag, I checked everything, and we repacked it. I took a mental picture of the bag so I would be able to recognize it, and then the next day, I placed the bag underneath the tour bus on which I was leading a large group. The bag remained there for the duration of the trip, while all the other bags of my travel mates went on and off the bus, with each new overnight stop we made.
When the bus took us back to the airport for a return flight back to America, all of the bags were unloaded on to the sidewalk. I first spotted my own bag, and grabbed it. Then, I returned my rental phone to the rental-phone guy and disassembled my ipad so I could return the sim-card that I had been renting. After reassembling my ipad, and securing my own belongings, I started to look up and down the sidewalk for my friend's suitcase. Some of my travel mates would not be joining us on the flight home, so they were staying in this country, extending their visit. They came over to say goodbye-- but all I could think about was finding this silly suitcase. Up and down the sidewalk I paced, trying to find it-- but it was nowhere to be seen. It did not help matters that there was now another tour bus pulling up alongside ours, unloading their 50 pieces of luggage on the same sidewalk.
      I kept pacing, looking everywhere for this suitcase, but to no avail. I sent my group ahead of me, because I wasn't leaving until I found it. But as my group started to go inside, and another tour bus pulled up, it seemed hopeless. Then, someone from my group ran outside to tell me that, as the group leader, I had to be the first one in the line, to talk with the security check-in folks. I realized that this bag, by some freak accident, did not make it on my bus, and must have been left at one of our previous overnight stops. At every stop, all the bags would come off the bus. Because no one was looking after this bag too much, since it was just hanging out on the bus for the whole trip, maybe it got left in some dusty parking lot, in the middle of this country.
     I realized at this point, there was not much I could do, so I went inside to move my group along. As I stood in my line, feeling like an irresponsible failure, I thought of how I would break it to my friend, who till this day, has no idea this all happened. He probably will find out though, after I publish this blogg, because he likely will be among the thousands of readers worldwide of this blogg, so Alfred, if you are reading this, please forgive me for my irresponsibility. I thought I would just tell him the honest truth, how I put the bag on the bottom of the bus intending to keep it there, until we got off the bus to go to the airport. When we got off the bus, I would tell him, I realized the bag was gone, and it must have been left somewhere in the middle of this vast country. I would then ask him, how much his valuables in this bag was worth. I was hoping it would be around $1000, and then, I would ask him if I could pay off this sum in an installment plan. I still felt horrible, but I knew that this uncomfortable conversation would need to take place.
      As I advanced in the check in line, a line I probably stood in for a full hour, I began sulking, very disappointed in myself. I had basically given up hope. But suddenly, I realized, that maybe, now with all the tour groups standing in front of me in this line, the bag would be chillin' by itself, clearly discernible on the lonely sidewalk outside. The problem was, I wasn't allowed to leave my line. So I decided I would call my tour guide-- a very sweet man whom for anonymity and secrecy we will call Harold, who was waiting for our group to all get checked in. Then I realized, I couldn't call Harold, because I had returned my rental phone to the rental phone guy. So I frantically looked around, and saw a travel-mate playing mad-birds on his phone-- and realized, maybe, if I asked nicely, he would let me use it! So I asked nicely, and he let me use it.
     I immediately dialed his number, and with the grace of the Almighty, he picked up the phone. Nowadays, people don't always pick up the phone when folks call the phone. I told him my situation, and I asked, if there was maybe, perhaps, possibly, any way he could go outside for a minute to see if he could find this bag. I described the bag to him, and he told me he could go, but it would take about 5 minutes because he was far from the door. I stood there, praying that he would find it, knowing this was my last chance. Seven minutes later my travel-mate's phone started buzzing like a large mean, yellow, bumble bee. I picked up the phone. It was Harold. He told me that the police started circling around the bag, suspicious because it was an unattended suspicious bag, and they were preparing to blow up the bag, when my heroic, knight in shining armor Harold arrived to claim it. He brought the bag to me. The bag spent the summer with me, and again, due to the unending love of the One Above, last week, I was able to return it to its rightful owner.
       I learned from this traumatic experience with Alfred's suitcase that one can NEVER give up. I could have given up--- but then Alf's bag would have been blown to shreds. One tiny idea popped in my head, and saved the day. This concept is very much a Jewish perspective-- and that is, that no matter what, a person can never, EVER give up. We must always continue to push forward, believing in ourselves, knowing that we can overcome ANY situation in which we find ourselves.
     Life, oh Henry, can often by very challenging. Sometimes people find themselves in difficult situations, and people are often in despair. There is a tendency in life nowadays, to give up. People give up on themselves, G-d forbid, they give up on family, and they give up on friends. Sometimes people have very difficult challenges, and they think they cannot overcome them-- so they give up, reaching that awful feeling of despair. The Torah teaches us not to despair-- never to give up.  Rebbi Nachman of Breslov, whose merits should protect us, teaches that "The whole world is a very narrow-bridge--but the main thing, is not to be afraid at all."
      Every human being on the planet- all of you humans across the globe reading this blogg-- by virtue of your humanity, have a soul-- the breath of G-d Himself. You have Godliness within your soul-- a spark of the Divine. That means that you are beyond great, and there is no challenge that you cannot overcome-- as difficult as it might be. Whenever the going gets tough, never forget that you are Godly, and you can overcome anything.
    Tomorrow night begins Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. Yom Kippur is a gift that G-d gives us, in His infinite kindness that enables us to actively repent for our previous wrongdoings, and to start off our lives anew. We are able to erase the past, and begin a bright new future. Lest a person ever give up, and think they are too far removed from being able to repent, and turn their lives around, Yom Kippur comes and affirms the complete and total falseness of that errant assertion.
    Let us all be sealed in the Book of Life, blessed with a beautiful, sweet new year, where we understand the greatness that lies within us, and utilize our G-d given potential to impact the entire universe.

Sincerely,
Danny Wolfe

 

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