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Even Though I Was There, I Missed the Wedding

Thursday, March 25, 2021 - 4:32 PM

My nephew Daniel Vigler got married to Rivka Cohen in Central Israel this week, after much delay due to the draconian restrictions at Ben Gurion airport. The wedding was supposed to be several weeks ago, but the bride and groom themselves were denied access to Israel until recently.

I’ve gotten to know my nephew quite well over the time he spent time studying at Chabad Headquarters in Brooklyn, and I would have loved to be there. Unfortunately, with the timing so close to Pesach and the quarantine requirements, that proved to be impossible.

My siblings and I, and all the extended family on both sides, watched the full event live streamed, from the kabbalat panim, to the chuppah, and hours of dancing. We set up a Zoom so we could chat and comment while watching, and feel less isolated.

And to be honest, with today’s devices and technology it almost felt like we were physically present. I was able to see my uncles and aunts and parents at the wedding. The videographer went from table to table and we could see each and every guest. He even zoomed in on the meal and I could almost taste the delicious meat! Certainly I could hear the chuppah more clearly than I probably would have been able to hear had I been there in person!

And yet, I felt like I’d missed out.

But why? After all, I was basically there AND I saved so much time and money. No ticket fare, no 12-hour flight (and I hate flying!), no airport security, covid testing, car rentals, or jet lag.

But as much as I felt like I was there, something was missing: one dance. I needed to dance with the chatan. For all the technology we have, nothing can replicate the physical experience. I wanted to dance with my nephew, to hug and kiss him and congratulate him in person. All the effort would have melted away to have that moment.

This weekend we’ll all sit at beautiful Seder tables and recite the Haggadah. We’ll tell the story of our enslavement and redemption from Egypt. We’ll eat matzah and bitter herbs to remember our exile, and we’ll recline like kings and queens, drinking wine, to celebrate our freedom.

But at the very end, we’ll sing and dance and fervently declare, “Next year in Jerusalem!” Because no matter how beautiful the Seder is, and how regal we feel, what we really want is to be dancing with G-d in Jerusalem. We want G-d to fully embrace us, to hug and kiss us, so that we can truly feel His presence.

The Seder is like a live stream of the real thing. Our lives in Jerusalem or London or Johannesburg may feel wonderful, but we know it’s not the real deal. May we all merit to dance with G-d in the streets of Jerusalem this year, and celebrate the Seder with Him leaving this dark exile behind once and for all.

Hope you have a wonderful Pesach!

Rabbi Uriel Vigler

The Phone Call That Made Me So Excited!

Thursday, March 18, 2021 - 10:18 AM

Shortly after Shabbat was over last week, I received a call from Jennifer* whom I do not know, asking me to help her with a pressing matter. For several days she had been trying to contact her brother who lived in Manhattan, with no luck. Eventually she became nervous and asked the police to check in on him. Unfortunately, they discovered that he had passed away in his apartment.

Jennifer explained that she had received my number from her local Chabad rabbi in Toronto, Rabbi Yisrael Landau, and she needed immediate assistance since she could not fly in herself to personally attend to the matter.

I assured her that I was there for her, happy to take charge of the burial. “Burial?” She replied, shocked. “I was planning on doing a cremation." And when I asked her why she responded that she cannot afford a burial and since her brother had never gotten married and had no children nobody would be there anyway to visit his grave.

At this point I felt a rush of excitement. I was absolutely thrilled! You see the issue at stake involved one of the most beautiful and rare mitzvot that I felt so eager to fulfill. The fact that she was a stranger only inspired me further.

Mitzvah number 231 in the Torah requires us to bury the dead. The Torah teaches that the Beth Din has an obligation to bury a criminal sentenced to death on the same day that his execution was carried out. We extend the principle to every Jewish corpse: burial is vital. It is the duty of the closest relative to carry out this mitzvah. And in a situation like this when the deceased is going to be cremated, this mitzvah becomes the responsibility of every single Jew. It is considered such an important Mitzvah that it takes precedence over many Mitzvot. It's called a Met Mitzvah.

This is because come what may, the Jewish people share an intrinsic, subconscious bond. So when one Jew dies with no one to take care of his burial, the onus falls on the rest of us, his brothers, to take care of him.

With this in mind, I informed Jennifer that I would gladly take care of the burial and any costs involved.

I got straight onto it, but soon reached a hurdle; the authorities needed a few more days in order to perform the autopsy. I called Jennifer back to inform her, to which she replied that she wanted to discover the cause of death.

I got Rabbi Landau back on the case and together we were able to gently explain Judaism’s view of autopsy to her. The body is considered sacred, and thus must be treated with the utmost respect after death. An autopsy is a desecration of the body, and causes tremendous pain to the soul. With slight persistence, we convinced her to cancel the autopsy and proceed immediately with the funeral.

And as for the financial arrangements, that was arranged within minutes. One post on social media requesting assistance from our community was all that was required to raise the necessary funds. People keen to participate in this holy mitzvah donated generously. Rabbi Landau and his community magnanimously committed to reciting kaddish for the entire year.

As for myself, there could be no greater reward than the pure joy of performing this incredible Mitzvah. Thank you Jennifer for your call – you made my day!

Have a wonderful Shabbat

Rabbi Uriel Vigler

My Argument With a New York City Cop!

Thursday, March 11, 2021 - 7:28 PM

Every single morning for the last 10 years I’ve had to rush out of morning services to take my daughter to her bus stop. Apparently the department of transportation has a 5-mile rule, meaning the furthest bus stop from any school cannot be more than five miles away. But we live on the Upper East Side and my daughter goes to school on the Lower East Side, more than five miles away. I’ve tried (multiple times!) to get a waiver and have the bus stop moved outside my house, to no avail. When the second-avenue subway was being built, I thought I might have a chance due to the construction hazards, but still no dice. I’ve been through this with my older daughter, and now with my six-year-old.

The closest they can set our stop is at 80th and 2nd avenue, about a mile from our house. So every day, for the last 10+ years, I have driven her there. If I’m late, the driver pulls away, so it’s quite a rush. But it has become routine.

This week, however, when I pulled up at the stop—on time—there was no sign of the bus or the driver. He was running late. So we sat in the car while I called around, trying to get hold of the school and the dispatcher to figure out just how late he was going to be or if would send a replacement instead.

Meanwhile, a traffic officer shows up and says to me, “Sir, you are in the bus lane.”

I explained that I was trying to drop my daughter off and the bus was running late.

“What can I do?” I asked.

“Well you can’t be in the bus lane,” she repeated.

“Yes, I know, but what am I supposed to do?”

“Park somewhere else and don’t stop in a bus lane,” she said.

“Where else can I stop?” I asked, pointing out that two corners of the intersection are bus lanes, and the other two are blocked by construction. I also explained that I see taxis, ubers, and other cars doing drop-offs in bus lanes all the time. It’s just kind of accepted in NYC considered what limited space we have.

The officer said she understands the situation but has to give me a ticket regardless.

“Give me a chance to move then, before you write the ticket,” I begged.

But she was having none of it. “Absolutely not!” she insisted. “I am writing your ticket right now.”

And having lived in the city for the last 20 years, I know there is no arguing with cops. No point. It doesn’t work. Ever.

So I stayed and watched her write me a whopping $115 ticket. So unfair! Just do an image search for that corner and you’ll see there is nowhere to drop off a six-year-old girl and she certainly can’t wait alone!

And for the first minute, I was outraged. Upset, frustrated, angry. I felt cornered. What does the city expect me to do? Because of the five-mile rule, I have to drive her to this random corner each morning, and now because there’s nowhere safe to drop her off on that corner, I’m being punished with this massive fine.

But then I calmed down and remembered that nothing happens randomly. Everything comes from G-d, and clearly He wanted me to pay the $115 fine. Why? I have no idea. But I do know that when we reframe our mindset from feeling targeted and victimized, we realize that whatever happens to us was intended exactly for us. Then we can slow down, thank G-d, and really appreciate what we have in life.

The holiday of Passover is coming up, and going out of Egypt is something we very much need to do in 2021. The modern day version of leaving Egypt means leaving behind our frustrations, limitations, and anger, and realizing that everything happens for a reason—even a $115 ticket!

Oy, When Will All This End??

Thursday, March 4, 2021 - 7:08 PM

If you’d asked anyone in early March 2020, “What do you think of making every human on the planet wear a mask?” they would have been horrified.

And if you’d asked what they thought of staying home for an entire year, they would’ve looked at you like you’d fallen off the moon.

As for not going to shul all year, including Passover and the High Holidays, it was unimaginable.

Yet here we are, a full year into the pandemic, and all of this has become the new normal. We’re used to it. And that is the real danger.

When my child gets an email from his teacher that on Friday there will be no in-person school but they’ll be meeting on Zoom instead, he doesn’t think anything of it. He’s so used to Zoom school, it doesn’t seem crazy anymore.

When we’re told that we might be masking and social distancing until sometime in 2022, we hardly flinch.

When the CDC recommends wearing two masks instead of one, we hardly bat an eyelash.

When leaving the house with a mask becomes as normal as leaving the house with pants on, we take it in stride.

And this is the real danger—complacency.

When we get used to the new norm, when we’re no longer shocked and horrified, when we stop recognizing how abnormal the current situation is and stop praying to Hashem (our best defense) to end the madness, we are in danger.

We have totally forgotten what normal is. Normal is when no human is sick or dying. Normal is global peace, food security, abundance, unity, respect, and love.

But we’ve become so accustomed to our current state of exile that we no longer demand with our full heart and soul that it ends.

I’ve listened to the Lubavitcher Rebbe speaking about this dozens of times, his voice choked with pain and emotion. The Rebbe explains that the darkest and most dangerous part of exile is when we stop searching. As long as a child knows his father is hiding, there is hope. But the moment he stops searching and becomes accustomed to the new norm, danger sets in. Listen to the Rebbe’s inspirational words here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N253828_vP4

Around this time last year, I was convinced Moshiach’s arrival was imminent. I remember telling my kids on Pesach, “That’s it. We’re out of here!” And I was not alone.

But it hasn’t happened, and we dare not risk giving in to complacency. Moshiach? He is arriving today!

As we approach the month of Nissan and the miracles of Pesach—of which we are told, “In Nissan our forefathers were redeemed from Egypt, and in Nissan we will be redeemed from our exile”—we need to stay focused. Our prayers should not be solely focused on ending the one-year pandemic, but on ending the 2000-year exile!