An Intimate View on Intimacy

Conventional wisdom says that sexuality is a natural instinct. It's a very common and innocent human activity, it's what happens between a man and a woman, it's what people do and all we need to do is relax and enjoy it, right?

It seems so simple. But if it were so simple, why do we need to be reminded over and over again that it's natural, it's innocent, it's pleasurable, it's what we do, it's what happens, relax and enjoy it? In fact, the media has bombarded us with that message for so long and in so many different ways with such ingenuity that you have to wonder why the message hasn't been accepted. Why are we still so uncomfortable, so unsure, so mystified by our own sexuality?

In the world that the Almighty created, there are three conditions. First, there is the secular, weekday, mundane condition--ordinary, common things that we possess. Second, there is the holy, Divine condition--so heavenly that we don't have these things at all. These two parts, so far, are pretty easily accepted and understood. The difficult part is the third condition, the sacred. Although sacred means set aside and unavailable, the sacred is not totally unavailable. The sacred is that which is holier than the ordinary, but not so holy that we can't approach it at all. It's something in between what we have and what we cannot have.

Confused? Let's use a simple example. The Almighty grants us the blessing of children. So, we have children. Your children. My children. But when we say "my children," is that a possessive "my"? Do I own my children? The answer, of course, is no. They're not really mine. They don't belong to me. When I say "my wife," is that a possessive thing? Does "my husband" means that which belongs to me? Of course not. And yet, we can use a term so familiar as "my" in referring to these things in life. That's the sanctity in life, and if we're not careful, in our arrogance, we can lay claim to things that will never belong to us and lose their sanctity.

So, where does sexuality fit in? By its very nature--not by divine decree, not by religious belief or dictate--sexuality belongs to the arena of the sacred. We experience it, but we cannot own it. We can go there, but we don't belong there. We can be sexual, but we cannot possess our own sexuality. The reason for it is very natural and very basic. To be intimate means to go into a place that is private, that is sacred, that is set aside. Sexuality means one person entering into the private, sacred part of another human being's existence.

You cannot own another person's intimacy. It's not available. Even if the person wants to give ownership. Can't do it. It's not sharable. It's one of those things in life that the Almighty gives us that we can never possess. I cannot possess my children. I cannot possess my spouse. I cannot possess my Creator. I can't even possess my life. I, certainly, cannot possess the other person's intrinsic, sacred and unsharable part.

Well, if it's that unavailable, if I can't possess it, then what connection, what relationship do I have with it?

This is the sanctity we can experience, but cannot own. And that is why the pleasure in intimate relations is more intense than any other pleasure. You can enjoy a good meal. You can enjoy good food, and it's great pleasure, but it's not the pleasure of sexuality because you possess the food. It's yours. You planted the vegetables, you grew them, you plucked them and you ate them. They're yours. There's no awe involved. The pleasure of sexuality is that it's a combination of having and not having. It's a combination of ordinary and other worldly at the same time. It's something that you are granted, but you cannot own and possess. And when you feel that combination, the pleasure of being in another person's intimate space while at the same time remembering that you don't belong there--it's not your place and can never be your place--that's what makes sexuality different.

The key word is familiarity. With the sacred, you cannot afford to become familiar. With the truly divine, there's no danger. It's out of your reach--forget about it. With the secular and mundane, well, you should become familiar. So where does familiarity breed contempt? Where is familiarity really destructive and unwelcome? In sanctity. If you become familiar, too familiar, with the intimacy of another person's life, whether physical, emotional or mental, then you've compromised the sanctity.

In our tell-all world, visualizing the destructiveness of familiarity might be difficult. But you don't call your parents by their first name... because that's too familiar. We don't use the Almighty's name in vain... because it's too familiar. And for our grandparents and our great-grandparents, intimate relations was a sacred thing not to be talked about... because that would be too familiar. The relationship between a husband and wife was restricted to behind closed doors. It was a sacred thing, something you don't squander, share, or even speak about. That's why our grandparents could not talk about their relationship. They weren't keeping secrets--they were keeping something sacred.

Today, human sexuality is something you're supposed to become familiar with. We claim to already be familiar with our sexuality and we are ashamed to admit that we are not. We've removed the sanctity, all because we thought our uptight parents were keeping a secret from us. The media continues to bombard us with these brilliant, subtle messages of the "naturalness" and "openness" of human sexuality, and it's not convincing us. Try as we might, we cannot ignore what our bubbes and zaides knew: the marriage bed is a sacred thing and the only way it works is when you treat it with sanctity.

Still need proof? Look at those same bubbes and zaides a little closer. Those two people, who have been married fifty, sixty, seventy years, are still a little bashful with each other. They still blush with each other. They still excite each other. That is human sexuality. That is sanctity. And that is the last word on intimacy.


- Rabbi Manis Friedman, a noted Chassidic philosopher, author and lecturer, is dean of Bais Chanah Women's Institute of Jewish Studies. Originally published in OLAM Magazine.

My Mission

With a set goal, I will not fail.
Not only that, but I do hope to be successful.
I am going on a mission. I will be living in a really great city and running programs for the kids on campus there. I'm really excited!
Why have I chosen this type of community to reside in for the year?
Well, first of all... After being a head counselor for 8 weeks straight, I needed a serious break. Had a great time, gained a lot of experience in many areas (for another time)... but I realized that I would be able to reach people, perhaps even more so, who are about my age.
It will not be easy, I'm sure, to be on campus all the time. I am aware of the challenges and the tests. Or at least I anticipate them and have braced myself.

I need to keep the following in mind:
I am here to affect, not become affected in negative ways.
I am here to grow, and inspire others to grow.
I am here as a role model, a proper example to others, not to blend in.
I am here as a representative of the Rebbe, and I'd better live up to that.

As little as I know - I can still teach Alef, still impart what little knowledge I have of the vast Jewish Thought to kids whose souls are searching. They may not even know it. Those are the kids I am most excited to meet. Those who will become attached to Judaism without having planned to do so.
Hopefully, with my background, I will be able to connect to them in the best possible ways. Hashem, give me strength!

I wish to share my goals with as many as I can - so that their lives can be as meaningful as mine.
Im yirtzeh Hashem - G-d willing!

Wish me luck... :)

Hitkashrut

Empty words
Mindless deeds
Monotonous path
Submissive aura
Not in-tune
Passive acts
Fleeting bursts
Come and go
Inspiring me
Inviting my yearning soul
To freely be.

How distressing for the soul
So removed
From its source,
Hakadosh Karuch Hu.
Forever struggling
To reunite
With our King
For inner peace
And ultimate Purity.

(Chorus)
I'm fortunate
Supported by
A lasting bridge
Linking me,
A simple Jew,
And Hashem.
I desire to embrace this
For it's genuine and true
This revealed
G-dly Force
Binding me.

Approaching now
Attainable
For me, I feel
Through his directives
Life has meaning
Geula's real.
What used to soar
On the horizon
Now in sight.
His streams of wisdom
To every Jew
Revealing light.

(Chorus)
I'm fortunate
Supported by
A lasting bridge
Linking me,
A simple Jew,
And Hashem.
I desire to embrace this
For it's genuine and true
This revealed
G-dly Force
Binding me.


This is the song I am recording. Buy Chanale Fellig's CD or email me and I'll send you my track!

Update as of Wed Aug 23 - will not be recording this song. Artist whose music I wrote the song to will not give me the rights to it.
CF still wants me on her album, so we're trying to figure what else I can do... in the meanttime, don't talk to me about it. I'm so bummed out about it right now. What you CAN do is try to think of someone who can write music for me...
oyyy the professional world looks... chaotic and evil. One must step with caution, trepidation.

We will all be going our separate ways...
Fred - shlichut in Philly, Nom & Myr to seminary in Jeru, Zev to seminary in Sydney, and Me... to do shlichut in Cali...
You guys are my world - I love you all and I know we'll always be close at heart no matter how many oceans divide us.
All my love,
niQ.

beautiful 

Lone Soldier

After being called to emergency reserve duty two weeks ago and much indecision on the part of the officers of how we would be utilized in the raging conflict, my unit was assigned a complicated mission. We were to penetrate some ten kilometers into Lebanon and root out and engage Hezbollah guerrillas that were concentrated in bunkers on a mountain slope facing northern Israel. Intelligence and aerial photographs described a site that was heavily fortified and defended by several cells of well-trained and equipped jihadists. Despite a sustained aerial bombardment by the air force, Katyusha rockets continued to be launched from the area into Haifa, Nahariya, Tzfat. The decision was made that the launchers could only be destroyed and the guerrillas eliminated by ground troops. The problematic nature of the action foreboded heavy casualties on our side. It’s like trying to pull a rattlesnake out of its hole without getting bitten. Mine is a demolition unit, so the mission fell on us. I was honored to be the heavy gunner that would be on the point team.

After three days of training, we crossed the border into Lebanon on foot, a week ago Sunday, and marched through the night, pushing deeper and deeper into Hezbollah's backyard. At dawn, after the first long night's march, we rushed the small village of Quzah in a hail of gunfire, grenades and missiles, and blew down doors and commandeered homes where we waited out the day. Our orders were to only move at night.

We tried to rest inside the home as best we could, considering the intensity of the fighting all around us. Heavy artillery being fired from the Israel side of the border rained around the blocky outcropping of hilltop villas. Knowing we were in the area but unsure of our precise whereabouts, Hezbollah operatives in the hills surrounding us launched missiles and mortars shells randomly into the homes in the village through the night. Automatic gunfire was everywhere and we had no way of knowing if it was theirs or ours.

Early that morning we received horrible news over the radio: in a village half a mile to our east, an advanced anti-tank missile was launched into a window of a home where a unit we had been working with in parallel was hunkered down. The result was devastating; nine killed, forty wounded. We had been with those guys hours before, sipping Turkish coffee around the buses before we crossed over the border. Now we heard their cries for assistance over the radio.

Our initial objective was delayed as we were ordered to take up positions on a hillside in order to secure the evacuation of the dead and wounded under the cover of darkness back into Israel. In the hours just before dawn, we assaulted the village again and entered into the homes where we laid on the bathroom floor and in other rooms that did not have exterior walls. Quzah would be our home for two long days and nights.

In daylight hours, we peered out the kitchen window at a valley to the east of us and watched as volleys of Katyushas were launched from the brush into northern Israel to our south. It was surreal seeing the Israeli towns across the border from the same perspective as the enemy. It was terrible. It was beautiful.

We did our best to direct the artillery cells and the F16s to the precise positions, calling in coordinates as we peered out of the wreckage of previously shelled homes. If we saw a missile battery that was close enough, we crawled into the streets and fired our own rockets into the brush. The valley was bombarded relentlessly by artillery shells, the cannons systematically sweeping the area, tearing up huge swaths of earth. Every so often a shell would strike something hidden amongst the trees and a secondary explosion would erupt and missiles would fly from the brush in all directions like fireworks on the fourth of July. The secondary explosions were identified by us, and by pilot-less aircraft patrolling the skies; we zeroed in, and F16s swooped in, dropping massive bombs. We watched as huge silent explosions left moon sized craters, and moments later the sound and the concussion would hit us. It was as if the atmosphere would rip in the tremendous blasts, shaking the homes violently.

We remained in that bombed out village for two nights, all the while taking mortar shells and hostile gunfire into the windows of the homes. You could hear the whistle of the mortars as they came down, and you could do absolutely nothing but sit on the floor and hope that it would not fall in your lap. It sounded as if Cadillacs were being catapulted into the village and the explosions shook the already shaky building and chunks of red-hot shrapnel rained down in the streets. At night, we left the houses and commandeered different homes so that Hezbollah would not zero in on our exact positions. We monitored their radio transmissions and heard them directing their fire to where they thought we were. We slept in one-hour stretches, if at all.
After the last of the casualties was evacuated from the adjacent village - an excruciatingly slow process in which another one of our tanks was hit and four more precious soldiers lost - we left the village and continued on our march deeper into Lebanon.

After two nights of hard treks through impossibly difficult terrain, we arrived to a hillside a few kilometers from our objective. Different units commandeered small villages along our route and provided cover for us as Hezbollah cells fired on us from the hillsides. The artillery was constant, pounding any structures that were along our path a kilometer before we would arrive.

As planned, we arrived to a hillside where we waited amongst the scorched brush and shattered terraces for supply helicopters that were to come and drop off water and additional explosives that we would use to destroy the bunkers. After receiving the supplies, we were to continue making progress on foot to execute our mission. We were exhausted, filthy, but happy for the brief opportunity to drop our packs. And then, the unthinkable.

The helicopters arrived gloriously, six of them, flying low over our heads. We had thought the area was relatively secure and the helicopters landed in a field maybe two hundred yards from where we sat behind boulders. After making their drops, the helicopters roared away again one by one towards Israel, again flying low, directly overhead. Suddenly, as if in a dream, I saw a rocket rise up out of a field maybe a hundred yards to the left of us. It took me a moment to realize what was happening, To my horror, the missile struck the fourth helicopter's left side, maybe 40 feet directly over my head. There was a huge fireball, and I don't know if I saw it or if I imagined it, but I pictured the pilot struggling with the controls. We thought the helicopter would crash down on us and there were a few moments of indescribable terror, but the crippled aircraft flew another 50 yards, turned over on its side and fell onto the hillside. There was a mushroom cloud of black smoke that enveloped a huge orange ball of fire as the helicopter exploded. I don't remember if I heard the explosion, I just remember my captain next to me in the bush saying, "my God, my God."

Immediately, Hezbollah mortar shells began to rain down on our position and we dove for cover as the earth boiled around us. The remaining helicopters banked away and flew off, shooting off decoy flares. A second land-to-air missile rocket narrowly missed a Black Hawk that arrived to survey the scene of the crash. It too deployed decoy flares and swooped away. Heavy gunfire ripped through the pitch-black night, but I was uncertain if it was theirs or ours. I saw from where the missile came but couldn't shoot for fear of hitting one of our own in the darkness. This continued for many hours, and when the barrage ceased we retreated back into the valley, leaving a small force in the area to search for and watch over the wreckage of the helicopter. Hezbollah was sure to try to take the remains of the pilot and crew for ransom.

Later, we learned that five of the helicopter's crew died in the crash. The loss was more than any of us could bear, but we considered ourselves fortunate. The helicopter was struck after it had made its drop. Minutes before, it had been full with some thirty soldiers.

Because of the crash, we did not receive the supplies as planned, a serious development considering that we were down to out last canteens of water. In the few frantic hours before daylight, planes parachuted crates of water to us, but we were unable to find them in the rough terrain, and as dawn broke we retreated back to our previous positions before the Hezbollah snipers and mortar men emerged from their bunkers.

We quickly hollowed out and entered into bushes and waited for night to come. To sleep was impossible. I was struggling against exhaustion and dehydration following the previous night's frantic search for the supplies. I had slept maybe four hours in previous four days and the constant burden of the heavy machine gun I carried and my battle vest with some thousand rounds of ammunition had taken its toll. I received two saline infusions in the bush and tried to eat from the few battle rations that remained but was unable to keep anything down. Most of day, three other soldiers and I sat in silence, unable to sleep, each absorbed in his own thoughts, resigning himself to a singular and unforeseeable fate. Some day I will find the words to describe the thoughts that go through your head under such circumstances. To try now would be futile.

When dusk fell, we again geared up. The officers were determined to carry out the mission without further delay, but we were down to our last drops of water. Over the radio we learned that the bodies of the helicopter crew had been recovered. The officers decided to divide the unit into two task forces; one to evacuate the wounded amongst us: three soldiers who had broken or sprained ankles and legs in the previous days' frantic marches over the harsh terrain. They would be airlifted along with the remains of the helicopter crew back into Israeli territory. The second unit was to search for the water that had been dropped from airplanes the night before. After, we were to reunite and make our final push to the mountain slope to put an end to the firing of rockets from that area into our cities in the north.

I was placed in the squad to evacuate the wounded, and as we made our way to the landing site carrying the stretchers, a call came over the radio. A General Staff order was made to all forces operating in the area: immediately stop all proactive measures in observance of a cease-fire, a cease fire that we had no idea was even in the works. Just like that, the war was suddenly over, for now.

With news of the end of hostilities, the decision was made to evacuate me in my weakened state along with the wounded. Again, I found myself in the same area where I watched a helicopter shot down the night before, preparing to board a helicopter myself. The Black Hawk emerged from the black depths of the valley below us. As soon as it landed we ran to it, carrying the stretchers and the sacks with the remains of the dead. We dove inside and immediately the helicopter rose sharply and banked away, shooting flares from its sides to act as decoys for incoming rockets. I found myself lying amongst the dead and injured as the flight crew trampled over us. I could only see the fire from the flares and could have no idea if the extreme banking of the helicopter was a defensive measure or if we had been hit. After a few moments of terrifying uncertainty thinking we would hit the ground at any second, the helicopter leveled off and we rose sharply out of the range of any Hezbollah rockets and flew back into Israel.

I was released from the hospital a few hours ago after being treated for severe dehydration and exhaustion. I just wanted to let everybody know that I am fine. Sorry if I made you guys worry too much.

(Taken from an email I received and cherish...)

Marry me.

I am kinda fired-up about this right now...

I've been taught that, "In the place of a Baal Teshuva, a Tzaddik cannot stand." (BT=person who has returned to his Jewish roots, Tzaddik=righteous person)

So I demand to understand why it is that some ppl are, as I have decided, too STUCK UP and FULL OF THEMSELVES to accept a Baal Teshuva into their family....

It really makes me sad. Not for myself - for I have come to terms with it. But for all of the BTs who have plunged into the "frum" (religiously Jewish) world against the secular current of their families’... Well, how do you think THEY feel? Rotten, that's how. What a lovely slap in the face: "Well, I'm sorry to inform you, but So and So is not interested in marrying someone who is not Frum From Birth (FFB)." Gee.

Here is the supporting argument for someone who feels that way:
- He wants his kids to have frum extended family.
- He wants that she should have no "past".
- He worries that she may be more "experienced" than he.
- He fears the world she knew and has turned her back on.
- He wants to relate to his wife in the way that they were brought up.

Now... All of those reasons I have heard. All of those reasons may be just.

But when (and this applies to whether the guy is BT OR the girl) the girl is from a FAMILY where the FAMILY became more religious, the first reason does not apply. She may not even HAVE much of a past. On the contrary, she may have a past that she not only regrets so completely, but that she works extra hard for the rest of her life to be the very very best she can be! She’s worked so hard, and her only wish is to marry a good “mentch” of a guy so that her children have whom to emulate. She might love to marry a BT, but would also welcome a husband who was always frum. She may not want reminders of her previous life. She may want to move only forward. (Again, he/she.)

It is absolutely disheartening to hear that the “frum” world (generalization, yes) condemns BTs in the "Sidduchim Marriages" department, when (GO LUBABS!) they’re all ABOUT bringing people closer to Judaism. It’s like, ‘Sure, I’ll kasher your kitchen, but don’t ever think I’d eat in it.’ You know what I mean?

[Side note: It is also frustrating when, in some circles, the BTs get more attention than your mainstream frum person… I’m talking congregation-type settings. Wtvr.]

By the way, I have a theory, which may be shared by others, that we are all Baalei Teshuva. How? We all STRIVE to grow. We all DO work on ourselves and do our best to improve. But sometimes, that is not enough – to TRY.

The following is my support for BT’s –

- Have you noticed that the BT’s have that extra FIRE that FFBs, more often than not, have hidden (notice that I did not say “do not have”)?

- Do you see the constant growth and maturing?

- It is important to them that they keep increasing their knowledge of Judaism and improving their practices.

- They have an appreciation that someone who is frum from birth cannot have.

Bottom Line: Passion. Appreciation.

That is a BT.

(You MUST have some thought on this.)

REPRESENT

I recently encountered an unfortunate situation with a "representative of Rabbi Schneerson."
I put it that way because if we all kept in mind who we represent and what we represent, we will never do anything to hurt another.

Unfortunately I hurt another Jew.
Without even meaning to.

I would like to share this story because I would like to prevent any future miscommunications between people, whether friends, family, or as in this case, a potential business engagement.

The story goes as follows:
I was looking for a job in assisting Chabad Emissaries in any Jewish community I find suitable. In my job search, I spoke with numerous such emissaries. I encountered very many different types of people doing similar work, yet all in different places around the globe. There are social people who are good on the phone, professional-type people who write beautiful emails, and there are those who are not very adept in either area. If I became interested in a certain offer, I would call references, etc., to find out more about the community, the way they run their institution, their style of communication, etc.

(My father has taught me well about communication - successful (bhkybppp-can u guess what that is?) businessman that he is. Communication, connections, and contacts are most important in the business world. Other components are also very necessary, but this is what it comes down to in the end.)

A character flaw of mine - which my father has just so kindly pointed out when I called him all hysterical in lieu of this unfortunate event - is that I tend to over-extend myself in my feelings toward any single individual, idea, or cause, making the other party feel as if I am more interested than I actually am. I didn't know that about myself, don't even know if it is 100% true, but he's my dad... :)

So, one such emissary decided... or rather assumed, that I had committed to work for him.
I remember no such verbal agreement, nor do I have anything documented in emails to support that. I repeat - I never felt that I had agreed to work for him. He must have felt that due to the length of time I spent on the phone with him that I was indeed most interested in finalizing. He knew I was a head counselor this summer and decided not to contact me until I sent out emails to all of my job contacts describing the state I was in - that I was no longer looking for a job with the same partner due to the fact that she was going to be working from home - since her father is unfortunately not as healthy as he used to be (I am leaving out details - may Hashem grant him and all of us a long, healthy life). Yet, he called me at least a week later.I received many replies - regretful replies - but ones of good luck (as I had wished them, as well).

This one such rabbi called me a week later, on a blocked number I might add (did he think I wouldn't pick up?), and very firmly made it clear to me that he had been expecting me and how dare I cancel on him. He gave me 48 hours to "seriously think about it" and call him back "with the good news". I hung up very disturbed, broken, and to tell you the truth - sorry. I could not believe that I had pained another Jew. He was seriously in dire straits, put in the sudden position of looking for another pair of girls only weeks before the school year. I obviously would not accept the job, but I did feel like I wanted to redo the past few months - at least to have sent him an email when I had decided NOT to commit. I DID let him know as soon as I knew that my friend would not be joining me, but that is the past. During the week that I sent the email until he called me, I had found another job, and was almost to the point of finalizing. I made sure to tell the people at job that I had accepted that I would need an official contract to avoid any further misunderstandings.

I hope I never again hurt another person, cause them any ache or frustration... Not easy, but I definitely will try. I will do my best to be clear and not lead people on. I've heard of similar stories, but never contemplated the possibility that something similar might happen to me.

Another lesson I have learned is - that as much as I try to be forgiving, unassuming, non-judgmental, and all - I need to trust people who know me. I won't elaborate too much, but when more than one person tells me not to do go through with something, I should trust them. And then not go through with it - literally - put it into writing and press "send"!!

I am sure he does wonderful work and I wished him the best of luck.

I just hope that not another incident will come back to haunt me. Man, what a week.

Envy

Envy kills. Envy hurts. Like a mother.
It causes bitterness and misfortune.

This week's parsha was about how Moses gave over the leadership to Joshua.
G-d said to him, "Your time is up. You're done."
Moses was not happy that he was not going to be permitted into the Holy Land.
He yearned to. His worked his whole life toward the goal of bringing the Jews to their Redemption - to their land - Israel.

And there, he stood, lost in his deep disappointment, though that really does not do justice in defining what he felt exactly.

So Joshua was to be appointed as the next leader of the Jewish People.
Moses begged G-d to at least be allowed to serve as Joshua's disciple, though Joshua had been Moses' disciple up until that point.

Then came the auspicious moment for Joshua to enter the Tent to speak with G-d.

Upon his exit, Moses confronted him, excitedly curious as to what G-d had spoken with him about.

Joshua was unimpressed.
He said, "For all the years as Your disciple, I never once asked you what your business with G-d was."
And Moses understood.

When one is envious of another, he is actually declaring that G-d's distribution of good to His creations is wrong. Rather, we should be accepting of and grateful for all materialistic things we have been granted, as well as of our wellfare in all other areas.