The King is in the Field

We have just arrived at the month of Elul and we all know what a significant month this is. 
Since we were little kids in school we have always associated this month with the famous analogy of “HaMelech Basudeh, the King in the Field.” 
Thinking about the concept can seem a little confusing;this idea of Hashem somehow being more present than before. How could it be that something as basic as G-d's presence has "strong" times and not so strong times?


Hashem is indeed always present; but Hashem is also beyond our reach, because our physical bodies and material lifestyles distance us from G-dly experiences.


It is easy for Him to see us from on high, but it is difficult for us to approach that stage. If we want to experience G-dliness we need to undertake numerous demanding tasks in order to access spirituality.


In Elul, however, G-d makes Himself accessible for all. It is as if He is walking amongst the crowd. Even if your track record of behavior has not been up to par, even if your actions do not make you deserving of an audience with G-d, G-d grants it to you anyway.


There is one catch: although spirituality and G-dliness is more attainable and tangible in this month, you still need to approach it. So take advantage of this opportunity! Speak to Hashem with an open heart during this month, take an extra moment to connect with Him through His commandments; there are no security guards to check your spiritual ID, and there are no ushers to examine your ticket of good deeds; all ordinary procedures are set aside.


And that's what makes this month extraordinary!

The Trouble Tree

Here’s a cute little story with a great lesson to learn:

I hired a carpenter to help me restore an old farmhouse. He had a rough first day on the job. A flat tire made him lose an hour of work, his electric saw quit, and now his ancient pickup truck refused to start. While I drove him home, he sat in stony silence.

On arriving, he invited me in to meet his family. As we walked toward the front door, he paused briefly at a small tree, touching the tips of some branches with both hands. As he opened the door, he underwent an amazing transformation. His tanned face was wreathed in smiles and he hugged his two small children and gave his wife a kiss.

Afterward he walked me to the car. We passed the tree and my curiosity got the better of me. I asked him about what I had seen him do earlier. "Oh, that's my trouble tree," he replied. "I know I can't help having troubles on the job, but one thing's for sure, troubles don't belong in the house with my wife and the children. So, I just hang them up on the tree every night when I come home. Then in the morning I pick them up again." Then he smiled and said, "Funny thing is, when I come out in the morning to pick 'em up, there aren't nearly as many as I remember hanging up the night before."

After reading this story the first thing I thought to myself was, I gotta get me one of these “Trouble Trees.” While I do think planting a tree and assigning it to be a “Trouble Tree” would be kind of fun I also don’t know how practical that would be. For one thing, I live in NY and my 4x4 backyard just isn’t the most conducive place to be tree planting as well as I believe trees take about thirty years to grow!

I do though love the concept of this. Many times we have a tough day at work or at school and we come home carrying these negative feelings, looking for somewhere or someone to dump them on.

Think about it, that’s pretty silly. What happened earlier, happened, and granted you can’t go back and change that but why take it with you any further?

Especially when coming home and spending time with your family or your friends there’s really no reason to bring any downbeat energy with you.

So next time you have a tough day take an extra minute before you enter your home and just hang those troubles up on your makeshift tree.

Trust me, when it comes morning and you go to retrieve them, most will have been long blown away with the wind!

There's More Than Meets the Eye

We unfortunately find ourselves one too many times faced with a situation that in our minds doesn’t seem to make sense.

We see righteous people hit with tragedies and our enemies being rewarded. Or so it seems.

But constantly we need to remind ourselves that there's more than meets the eye.

The following is a story that depicts that lesson.

It’s a favorite of mine that as a child I never got tired of listening to.

Read it and take to heart the lesson it shares.

The Rabbi and The Cow

There was a Rabbi, a very good and pious man, who wanted to see justice in the world. But it often seemed to him that good people got punished and that bad or undeserving people thrived and prospered. He pondered about this and he found no solution for his problem.

Now this Rabbi used to study at night and sometimes he got a famous visitor, Elijah the Prophet.

"Come," said the prophet at such an occasion. "Tomorrow I wish to go out into the world. I want to see whether the Jews around here are still hospitable; I want to experience how they keep this great mitzvah of our father Abraham. I want you to go with me. We will disguise ourselves as filthy, haggard beggars and knock on doors. But no matter what happens, I want you to observe without asking me any questions or seeking any explanations."

And so it came to pass. They left the next morning and in the evening they came to a very poor hovel, hardly worthy of human occupation. They knocked and found that a poor farmer and his wife lived there together with a cow, their only possession, which provided their meager livelihood: they sold milk in the next village and drank what was left. It kept them from starving.

The farmer couple was poor but very friendly, and ushered the two "beggars" in. They let them sleep on their best straw (they had no beds) and they shared a slice of hard bread and a cracked bowl of milk from their cow with them. They entertained the guests with friendly conversation till they all said the nighttime prayers and went to sleep.

In middle of the night, the Rabbi noticed that Elijah had slipped away to the "stable," a part of the hut screened off with a burlap sack, where the couple cow was kept. He wondered what the prophet might be doing there, but remembering his promise, he said nothing.

The next morning they woke up to a terrible scream. The farmer's wife had gone to milk the cow, had found the animal stretched out on the floor, stiff and dead. "How will we live?" she wailed. "Now we will die, too!” The Rabbi expressed his concern and tried to console her. He told her to trust in G-d, but they had to leave her sobbing.

"No questions, remember!" whispered Elijah when he saw the Rabbi's face. He blessed the poor couple and they walked again for a whole day without having breakfast because the cow had died. That meant no milk and there was nothing else.

That evening they came into a village and heard happy music. They found a nice house made of brick; servants were bustling about, and were told that the wealthy owner of this nice house was preparing a party for the engagement of his daughter. "It's better not to disturb him now," warned a butler," he doesn't like beggars in normal circumstances, and he will be very irritated if you talk to him before his feast. Better go somewhere else!"

"No," said Elijah, "we want to share in his joyous occasion, and we will ask for lodging and food from him."'

"At your own risk, don't say I didn't warn you!" said the butler before he hurried into the house with some bottles. And the butler was right. The owner of the house treated the beggars harshly and threatened to have them removed by his servants. But they pleaded so desperately that finally he gave in and let them sleep in his barn, just to get rid of them. He warned them not to show themselves at the party; he would certainly not give them any food. "Beggars!" he muttered in his beard. "Let them go work, they should be outlawed!"

And so the Rabbi and Elijah went to sleep with an empty stomach, and it was drafty and chilly in the stable. There was only old, smelly straw to lie on because the owner did not spend much money on his animals.

The next morning they woke up, recited the Modeh Ani and washed their hands with water from a trough. Elijah pointed to a large opening in the wall of the crumbling barn. "That's why it was so cold in here!" he exclaimed and told the Rabbi that they would repair that crack with some old tools that were in the barn.

The Rabbi wanted to object, but he saw the stern look on the prophet's face and he obeyed without asking questions. They did not bother to tell the owner that they had fixed his wall; he was too busy receiving his guests and would be angry to see the ragged beggars at his doorstep.

As they headed back to the Rabbi's village, Elijah said to him. "Í know that you did not find it fair that the cow of the good couple died, and that the wall of the miser was fixed for free. But in G-d's world there is more to things than what meets the eye..."

"When we were sleeping in the poor couple's hut I heard the rustling of big wings from the outside. It was the Angel of Death who had come to take the life of the farmer's wife. I pleaded with him to leave this couple alone, but as you know, the Angel of Death does not go away empty handed. It cost me a lot of trouble, but finally I was able to convince him to take the cow. And I gave a blessing to the couple when we left. They did not know it, but at that very moment, a new cow, wandering and lost, was making its way to their hut. They will find it and take care of it. And not only that, G-d will bless them this year with a child, which is their deepest wish."

"Ï see," said the Rabbi. "And what about the miser?"

"'Ah, him," sighed Elijah. "Well, in the wall of his barn someone had hidden a jar with gold coins. That person died before he could tell anybody and the gold stayed in the wall. Now if the miser would repair that wall by himself- he would only do it himself, because he is too stingy to hire man to fix his barn-he would find the jar. But we fixed the wall for him and the gold will stay hidden till a worthier person than the barn owner will find it. Also, the party of his daughter will not bring him luck, she will die before the wedding, the rich man will have bad luck in business and end up as a beggar, filthier and hungrier than we were, and he will go from door to door and sleep in barns if he is lucky. Do you have any more questions?"

"No," said the Rabbi, "now I understand that that this world is not what it seems to be to us, and we can only trust G-d to do justice in His world. Thank you for taking me on your trip..." And with this Elijah disappeared and the Rabbi went to do a mitzvah.

Wishing everyone a wonderful Shabbos, stay dry!

G-d's Secret Angels

Tuesday, August 23rd, 9:19 AM.

Although I pride myself on having a pretty positive mantra even the most optimistic of people have their bad days and today seemed to be turning into one for me.

Most days I take two trains to work; sometimes I get a seat on both, other times on one, and sometimes neither. Well today train number one was jam packed so I sandwiched myself between two straphangers and jolted along the 4 line to Atlantic Avenue.

I made my way across the station and down the stairs over to the row of seats where I usually wait for my next train. Sitting there taking up all five seats- one that her body occupied, two for all her random tchotkes which looked like they were taken straight from the local dumpster, and seats three, four, and five by the awful stench emanating from her clearly unbathed, undeodarized body, was a disheveled, homeless woman.

I silently cursed under my breath because waiting for the next train can take anywhere from five to fifteen minutes and I was hot and wanted to sit. I scuffled on by glaring in her direction and stood waiting on the platform edge.

Nose buried in my newspaper I was trying to distract myself when I heard a scratching noise coming from the direction of Ms. Homeless. I glanced in her direction and saw her bending forward, her ripped coat (yes, coat in mid-August...possible source of the body odor) scratching the sides of her seat as she did so. I watched as she picked something from off the floor. Curious, I kept my eye on the scene assuming someone probably dropped a dollar or something of the sort. But in fact, what she was reaching down to get was a piece of crumpled paper.

She then looked at the piece of paper, ripped it in half, and began eating the piece of paper- first chewing then swallowing. True Story.

Omg I thought to myself.

Wake up call much?

You’re moping about a seat when ten feet away there's a woman clearly so poor and hungry she has to resort to eating paper?!

Kinda puts things in perspective no?

This isn't the first time such an incident has happened to me. (You can read my article "The Boy I Met On the B Train." http://www.collive.com/show_news.rtx?id=11429&hl=the+boy+i+met+on+the+b+train)

I'm a big believer that G-d put angels everywhere; little messengers hiding out in many shapes and forms, some not the most attractive, to convey important messages to us.

Open your eyes, and see Hashem in everything.

Open you ears, and listen to what He has to say.

Because He really, truly is everywhere and it’s important to never forget that.

I saw the following written somewhere and think it expresses an important message when it comes to our Emunah in Hashem:

Those who believe that they believe in G-d, but without passion in their hearts, without anguish in mind, without uncertainty, without doubt, without an element of despair even in their consolation, believe in the G-d idea, not G-d himself.

Only Simchas :)

To my fellow blog followers, I have not C"V abandoned nor forgotten my blog, I have though been super duper busy!


B"H I have a lot of upcoming Simchas most importantly the wedding of my dear friend Yittie and so I've been sort of preoccupied with different preparations for that.


Iy"h I will resume my blogging ASAP!


In the meantime a short little quote I saw on Chabad.org:


"Money is fire: it can destroy and annihilate, or illuminate and warm, depending on how it is used"

  – Chassidic master Rabbi Elimelech of Lizensk

Tu B'Av

B"h I'm having a super busy day today but couldn't let such a momentous day slip by without making a mention about it.


The following is a synopsis about this special day of Tu B'Av written by Yanki Tauber.


Why Do We Celebrate the 15th of Av?

Said Rabbi Shimon ben Gamliel: There were no greater festivals for Israel than the 15th of Av and Yom Kippur (Talmud, Taanit 26b)

The Talmud goes on to list several joyous events which occurred on the 15th day of the month of Av:

1) The dying of the generation of the Exodus ceased. Several months after the people of Israel were freed from Egyptian slavery, the incident of the "Spies" demonstrated their unpreparedness for the task of conquering the land of Canaan and developing it as the "Holy Land." G-d decreed that that entire generation would die out in the desert, and that their children would enter the land in their stead (as recounted in Numbers 13 and 14). After 40 years of wandering through the wilderness, the dying finally ended, and a new generation of Jews stood ready to enter the Holy Land. It was the 15th of Av of the year 2487 from creation (1274 BCE).

As long as members of this doomed generation were still alive, G-d didn't communicate with Moses. As soon as the last of these men died, once again G-d lovingly communicated with Moses.

2) The tribes of Israel were permitted to intermarry. In order to ensure the orderly division of the Holy Land between the twelve tribes of Israel, restrictions had been placed on marriages between members of two different tribes. A woman who had inherited tribal lands from her father was forbidden to marry out of her tribe, lest her children -- members of their father's tribe -- cause the transfer of land from one tribe to another by inheriting her estate (as recounted in Numbers 36). This ordinance was binding on the generation that conquered and settled the Holy Land; when the restriction was lifted, on the 15th of Av, the event was considered a cause for celebration and festivity.

3) The tribe of Benjamin was permitted to enter the community. Av 15 was also the day on which the tribe of Benjamin, which had been excommunicated for its behavior in the incident of the "Concubine at Givah," was readmitted into the community of Israel (as related in Judges 19-21; this occurred during the judgeship of Othniel ben Knaz, who led the people of Israel in the years 2533-2573 from creation (1228-1188 BCE)).

4) Hosea ben Eilah opened the roads to Jerusalem. Upon the division of the Holy Land into two kingdoms following the death of King Solomon in the year 2964 from creation (797 BCE), Jeroboam ben Nebat, ruler of the breakaway Northern Kingdom of Israel, set up roadblocks to prevent his citizens from making the thrice-yearly pilgrimage to the Holy Temple in Jerusalem, capital of the Southern Kingdom of Judea. These were finally removed more than 200 years later by Hosea ben Eilah, the last king of the Northern Kingdom, on Av 15, 3187 (574 BCE).

5) The dead of Betar were allowed to be buried. The fortress of Betar was the last holdout of the Bar Kochba rebellion. When Betar fell on the 9th of Av, 3893 (133 CE), Bar Kochba and many thousands of Jews were killed; the Romans massacred the survivors of the battle with great cruelty and would not even allow the Jews to bury their dead. When the dead of Betar were finally brought to burial on Av 15, 3908 (148 CE), an additional blessing (HaTov VehaMeitiv) was added to the "Grace After Meals" in commemoration.

6) "The day of the breaking of the ax." When the Holy Temple stood in Jerusalem, the annual cutting of firewood for the altar was concluded on the 15th of Av. The event was celebrated with feasting and rejoicing (as is the custom upon the conclusion of a holy endeavor) and included a ceremonial breaking of the axes which gave the day its name.

"Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see." -- Mark Twain

The Friendship Circle is today's fastest growing Jewish organization for children with special needs. With over 79 locations worldwide the Friendship Circle has cultivated friendships between 5,000 special children and close to 11,000 teen volunteers.

The Friendship Circle's unique approach brings together teenage volunteers and children with special needs for hours of fun and friendship. These shared experiences empower the children, our special friends, while enriching the lives of everyone involved. 

We are very fortunate to have such an unbelievable program instituted.

The following piece I want to dedicate to the special souls of Friendship Circle; the children, their families, and all the individuals who help run it.

Something For Stevie:

I try not to be biased, but I had my doubts about hiring Stevie. His placement counselor assured me that he would be a good, reliable busboy. But I had never had a mentally handicapped employee and wasn't sure I wanted one. I wasn't sure how my customers would react to Stevie. 
  
He was short, a little dumpy with the smooth facial features and thick-tongued speech of Downs Syndrome. I wasn't worried about most of my trucker customers because truckers don't generally care who buses tables as long as the meatloaf platter is good and the pies are homemade. 
  
The four-wheeler drivers were the ones who concerned me; the mouthy college kids traveling to school; the yuppie snobs who secretly polish their silverware with their napkins for fear of catching some dreaded 'truck stop germ' the pairs of white-shirted business men on expense accounts who think every truck stop waitress wants to be flirted with.  I knew those people would be uncomfortable around Stevie so I closely watched him for the first few weeks.

I shouldn't have worried.  After the first week, Stevie had my staff wrapped around his stubby little finger, and within a month my truck regulars had adopted him as their official truck stop mascot.

After that, I really didn't care what the rest of the customers thought of him.  He was like a 21-year-old in blue jeans and Nikes, eager to laugh and eager to please, but fierce in his attention to his duties.  Every salt and pepper shaker was exactly in its place, not a bread crumb or coffee spill was visible when Stevie got done with the table. 

Our only problem was persuading him to wait to clean a table until after the customers were finished.  He would hover in the background, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, scanning the dining room until a table was empty.  Then he would scurry to the empty table and carefully bus dishes and glasses onto his cart and meticulously wipe the table up with a practiced flourish of his rag. 
  
If he thought a customer was watching, his brow would pucker with added concentration.  He took pride in doing his job exactly right, and you had to love how hard he tried to please each and every person he met.   
  
Over time, we learned that he lived with his mother, a widow who was disabled after repeated surgeries for cancer.  They lived on their Social Security benefits in public housing two miles from the truck stop. Their social worker, who stopped to check on him every so often, admitted they had fallen between the cracks.  Money was tight, and what I paid him was probably the difference between them being able to live together and Stevie being sent to a group home.  That's why the restaurant was a gloomy place that morning last August, the first morning in three years that Stevie missed work. 
  
He was at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester getting a new valve or something put in his heart.  His social worker said that people with Downs Syndrome often have heart problems at an early age so this wasn't unexpected, and there was a good chance he would come through the surgery in good shape and be back at work in a few months.

A ripple of excitement ran through the staff later that morning when word came that he was out of surgery, in recovery, and doing fine. 
  
Frannie, the head waitress, let out a war hoop and did a little dance in the aisle when she heard the good news. Belle Ringer, one of our regular trucker customers, stared at the sight of this 50-year-old grandmother of four doing a victory shimmy beside his table. 
  
Frannie blushed, smoothed her apron and shot Belle Ringer a withering look. He grinned. 'OK, Frannie, what was that all about?' he asked.

'We just got word that Stevie is out of surgery and going to be okay.' 
'I was wondering where he was. I had a new joke to tell him. What was the surgery about?'

Frannie quickly told Belle Ringer and the other two drivers sitting at his booth about Stevie's surgery, and then sighed: 'Yeah, I'm glad he is going to be OK,' she said. 'But I don't know how he and his Mom are going to handle all the bills. From what I hear, they're barely getting by as it is.'  Belle Ringer nodded thoughtfully, and Frannie hurried off to wait on the rest of her tables. Since I hadn't had time to round up a busboy to replace Stevie and really didn't want to replace him, the girls were busing their own tables that day until we decided what to do.

After the morning rush, Frannie walked into my office.  She had a couple of paper napkins in her hand and a funny look on her face. 
  
'What's up?' I asked. 
  
'I didn't get that table where Belle Ringer and his friends were sitting cleared off after they left, and Pony Pete and Tony Tipper were sitting there when I got back to clean it off,' she said. 'This was folded and tucked under a coffee cup.' She handed the napkin to me, and three $20 bills fell onto my desk when I opened it. On the outside, in big, bold letters, was printed 'Something For Stevie'. 
  
'Pony Pete asked me what that was all about,' she said, 'so I told him about Stevie and his Mom and everything, and Pete looked at Tony and Tony looked at Pete, and they ended up giving me this' She handed me another paper napkin that had 'Something For Stevie' scrawled on its outside. Two  $50 bills were tucked within its folds. Frannie looked at me with wet, shiny eyes, shook her head and said simply: 'truckers.'  

That was three months ago. Today is Thanksgiving, the first day Stevie is supposed to be back to work.

His placement worker said he's been counting the days until the doctor said he could work, and it didn't matter at all that it was a holiday.  He called 10 times in the past week, making sure we knew he was coming, fearful that we had forgotten him or that his job was in jeopardy.  I arranged to have his mother bring him to work.  I then met them in the parking lot and invited them both to celebrate his day back.

Stevie was thinner and paler, but couldn't stop grinning as he pushed through the doors and headed for the back room where his apron and busing cart were waiting. 
  
'Hold up there, Stevie, not so fast,' I said. I took him and his mother by their arms. 'Work can wait for a minute. To celebrate you coming back, breakfast for you and your mother is on me!' I led them toward a large corner booth at the rear of the room. 
  
I could feel and hear the rest of the staff following behind as we marched through the dining room. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw booth after booth of grinning truckers empty and join the procession. We stopped in front of the big table  Its surface was covered with coffee cups, saucers and dinner plates, all sitting slightly crooked on dozens of folded paper napkins. 'First thing you have to do, Stevie, is clean up this mess,' I said.  I tried to sound stern.

Stevie looked at me, and then at his mother, then pulled out one of the napkins. It had 'Something for Stevie' printed on the outside. As he picked it up, two $10 bills fell onto the table.

Stevie stared at the money, then at all the napkins peeking from beneath the tableware, each with his name printed or scrawled on it. I turned to his mother. 'There's more than $10,000 in cash and checks on that table, all from truckers and trucking companies that heard about your problems. 'Happy Thanksgiving.'

Well, it got real noisy about that time, with everybody hollering and shouting, and there were a few tears, as well. But you know what's funny? While everybody else was busy shaking hands and hugging each other, Stevie, with a big, big smile on his face, was busy clearing all the cups and dishes from the table.

Best worker I ever hired. 

Praying, Not Saying #1

I mentioned last week about my strong feelings towards Davening and the importance of understanding that which we pray.

Before getting into the actual words of the prayers I wanted to share a story showing the holiness and specialty of Davening:

One day, a visitor arrived at the home of Rabbi DovBer, the Maggid of Mezeritch. The visitor was an old friend of Rabbi DovBer’s, who had studied with him in their youth. With great interest he observed the behavior of his former study partner, who had since become a follower of the founder of Chassidism, Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov, and had assumed the leadership of the Chassidic community upon the latter’s passing.

The visitor was particularly struck by the amount of time that the Chassidic master devoted to his prayers. He himself was no stranger to reflective prayer: when he and Rabbi DovBer had studied together, they had pored over the mystical teachings of the Kabbalists, and would pray with the prescribed meditations, outlined in the writings of Kabbalah. But never in his experience had prayer warranted such long hours.

“I don’t understand,” he said to Rabbi DovBer. “I, too, pray with all the Kavanos of the mystics. But still, my prayers do not take nearly as much time as yours do.”

Rabbi DovBer’s visitor was a dedicated scholar. His wife ran the family business so that he could devote all his time to Torah study. Only once a year was he forced to break from his studies for a few weeks: his wife would give him a list of the merchandise she needed, and he would travel to the fair in Leipzig to wheel and deal.

“Listen,” said Rabbi DovBer to his visitor, “I have an idea for you. Why must you waste precious weeks of study every year? This year, sit at home. Envision the journey to Leipzig in your mind’s eye: picture every station along the way, every crossroads, and every wayside inn. Then, imagine that you are at the fair, making your rounds at the booths. Call to mind the merchants that you deal with, reinvent the usual haggling and bargaining that follows. Now, load your imaginary purchases upon your imaginary cart and make the return journey. The entire operation should not take more than a couple of hours, and then you can return to your beloved books!”

“That is all fine and well,” replied Rabbi DovBer’s friend, “but there remains one slight problem: I need the merchandise.”

“The same is true with prayer and its Kavanos,” said Rabbi DovBer. “To envision a particular attribute of G‑d in its prescribed section of the prayers, or to refer to a certain nuance of emotion in your heart at a particular passage, is all fine and well. But you see, I need the merchandise . . .”

A beautiful story to think about next time you’re considering taking the express train down Prayer Railway.

A Tale of Two Kamtzas

Tonight begins one of the holiest and most important fasts in Judaism. 

Tisha B'Av is a day when Klal Yisroel was hit with many tragedies.

The following is a very famous story that played an intricate role in the destruction of Yerushalyim and ultimately the Beis HaMikdosh. It is important to every year remind ourselves of the tragedies and really try and take what ever lessons we can. 

Kamtzah and Bar Kamtzah

The Talmud says the following statement and then goes on to explain the incident that took place:

“Because of Kamtzah and Bar Kamtzah Yerushalayim was destroyed.”

A man had a friend named Kamtzah and an enemy named Bar Kamtzah.

One day he decided to make a party, and told his servant to invite Kamtzah. Instead, the servant accidentally went ahead and invited the host's enemy, Bar Kamtzah.

When the host saw Bar Kamtzah sitting at his party, he said, "What are you doing here? Get up! Get out!" 

"Since I came, let me stay and I'll pay for my meal," said Bar Kamtzah.

"No!" said the host.

"I'll pay for half of the entire affair," said Bar Kamtzah.

"No!"

"I'll pay for the entire affair!"

"No!" said the host.

He then grabbed him, stood him up and threw him out. 

Bar Kamtzah, enraged that several Sages were present but did not protest, went to Rome and deceived the Caesar into believing that the Jews were plotting a rebellion.

Convinced, the Caesar came and destroyed Yerushalayim. 

Now, one might ask, why didn't the host take advantage of Bar Kamtzah's offer to pay for the entire meal?

What better way to take advantage of your enemy than throw a lavish feast and have him foot the bill!

Furthermore, what is meant by the introductory statement: "Because of Kamtzah and Bar Kamtzah Yerushalayim was destroyed"? 

Why blame Kamtzah? 

Kamtzah was supposed to have been invited to the party, but he never got the invitation. His only "sin" was that he just happened to have the same name as the host's enemy. Is this any reason that his name has been associated for nearly two millennia with this devastating tragedy -- the destruction of the Beis HaMikdash? 

Sinas Chinom. 

To answer these questions, we need to understand what is meant by the term "Sinas Chinom."

Our Sages tell us that it is Sinas Chinom that destroyed Yerushalayim, and it is Sinas Chinom which keeps us delayed in Galus until this very day.

Sinas Chinom is sometimes translated as "baseless hatred" - hatred for no reason. When there is love and caring among Jews, Hashem acts with us in a way that shows love and care. But when we act with anger and spite, harboring animosity, it's as though we're inviting Hashem to do the same. 

But let's stop and think: What sane individual hates someone for no reason? A petty reason, an invalid reason, perhaps. But hatred with absolutely no reason whatsoever? Let us therefore take a different approach to understand the concept of Sinas Chinom. 

The following parable characterizes Sinas Chinom:

A king told a person, "Ask for anything you desire and I'll give it to you, and to your enemy I'll give double."

After thinking a while he said, "O, King, poke out one of my eyes." 

Anyone doubting that such people actually exist think about the following true account:

There were two brothers whose old mother died, leaving a $100,000 inheritance entirely to the younger brother. The older brother was enraged, certain that in the last year of her life his brother had convinced their mother to cut him out of the will. "I'm going to contest the will," he told his Rabbi. "I'll see to it that my brother doesn't get a penny!" 

"Did you ask lawyers how much it'll cost to contest the will?" asked the Rabbi. "Of course," answered the man. "It's going to cost $200,000, but I don't care. It's worth it for me to lose a fortune as long as my brother gets nothing!" 

How is it that a person is willing to spend thousands of dollars, in order to gain nothing? Why doesn't he go out and buy presents for his friends and family, or better yet- himself? 

The answer is: Sinas Chinom.

Of course he'd be better off spending the money on himself. But he cannot. Why?

Sinas Chinom: "Free Hatred." 
Though the hatred may have some basis, it is "free" in the sense that it yields nothing.

It is free of logic, free of profit.

On the contrary, he will poke out his own eye or spend a fortune, even destroy himself, to satisfy his hatred.

Ultimately, Sinas Chinom is self-hatred. 

"A man had a friend named Kamtzah."

In Hebrew, the word "Kamtza" means "miser," someone so out of touch, so self-hating, that he cannot spend money even for himself.

"The host had a friend," someone with whom he identified, named "Miser."

The Talmud is hinting here that the host himself is a Kamtza. What greater gain than to throw a party and have someone else foot the bill?

But the host was focused not on his own gain, but rather, on his enemy's, and ultimately his own, destruction. 

The guest at the party, Bar Kamtzah, on the other hand, loved himself.

Look how much money he was willing to spend to spare himself the embarrassment of hasty eviction!

His very name, Bar Kamtzah, hints at this:

"Bar" means "outside." "Kamtzah," as mentioned before, refers to self destructive miserliness. Hence, "Bar Kamtzah" refers to someone who is "outside the realm of miserliness."

From the story's tragic end, however, we see what an infectious disease is Sinas Chinom.

After being the target of the host's vicious Sinas Chinom, even Bar Kamtzah, the symbol of love and generosity, succumbs.

His hatred turns into a storm, until in a fit of spite he slanders the entire Jewish nation in the ears of the Roman Emperor, bringing destruction upon his family, his homeland, and ultimately, himself. 

May we merit the swift fulfillment of the prophetic promise that the days of mourning for the destruction of the Beis HaMikdash will become days of joyful celebration.

As the verse states "So said Hashem, `The fast of the fourth month, the fast of the fifth month, the fast of the seventh month, and the fast of the tenth month will become days of rejoicing, happiness and festivals for the House of Judah - therefore, love Truth and Peace.'"(Zechariah 8:19) 

An easy and meaningful fast to everyone!