How I spent this summer

And by “summer” I mean Purim. A short essay.

This Purim, erev Shabbos and Shabbos preceding it, and the night following it, I...

... drove from Boston to NYC, spending as much time on Belt Pkwy as it took me to cross New England. Which (the crossing) sometimes involved driving through a wall of small pieces of ice falling from the sky (sometimes appearing and disappearing very suddenly) to the point that it was hard to see 10 yards in front of the car. The weather in NYC was, needless to say, clear, which is not something one could say about the streets.

... was a guest of a very nice family of shluchim, to whom I am very grateful for hospitality.

... did a mitzva.

... brushed my teeth twice right before Shabbos, while TRP (whom I was supposed to have given a ride) was running 25 blocks to be home in time. We both agreed it was a proper decision.

... learned that some people believe that cancer is contageous.

... discovered new things about Shabbos belts.

... had a conversation about proof of G-d’s existence and veracity of Torah, about Ezra and Hebrew alphabets.

... had a discussion about how after a while of staring into the abyss, the abyss starts staring into you — applicable to shluchim sometimes becoming victims of the environments they are supposed to elevate.

... listened to parshas Zahor.

... heard the usual selection of Chassidic insight into Purim (double concealment, etc.).

... pondered mechitzas, different entrances for men and women, and necessity of institutional, society-wide precautions/nudging vs. encouragement of personal growth vs. individual decisions. Also, whether the nudging, though appropriate at one point, is now ineffective and simply creates chillul Hashem.

... heard a woman on the street actually yell out: “Ay, caramba!”

... davened mincha in a non-Lubavitch shull whose only decoration was lists of people who have contributed to various funds — starting from building fund (based on the font, I’d say it was started some time before WWII) and up to “air conditioning” fund.

... heard a story about Mitteler Rebbe thanking someone for reading him the Megillah. “I’ve never heard this story.” “But you heard Megillas Esther many times!” “Megillas Esther is one thing; the political story you’ve just read is another.”

... was shanghaied into watching kids jump around.

... held a small sheep in my hands.

... heard Megillas Esther, got a business card from some guy running for Congress, watched some zombies get slaughtered.

... reconfirmed the fact that I hate Russians, Russian gatherings, and the whole Russian diaspora. Especially of NYC.

... met a rabbi who waits 6 hours after eating milchigs and goes to an opera.

... almost farbrenged with TRS in Oholei Torah.

... met a pizza store owner who visited the Rebbe many times (he has over $70 from the Rebbe). One time he was with his wife who was 1 month pregnant (obviously, no outside physical signs). The Rebbe gave one dollar for the man, one dollar for the wife, and one dollar “for the baby”. The pizza store owner said that when he would get a dollar, he wanted to just hold his hand there, in order to be close to the Rebbe.

... had a slice of pizza with a pound of olives on top.

... discovered that I don’t like meta-farbrengens. I.e., the farbrengens that discuss that a farbrengen can accomplish more than malach Michoel, what farbrengens are not for, how people no longer know how to farbreng, how it takes avoida to farbreng, etc., etc.

... heard that people learning Chassidus oftentimes confuse bitachon with recklessness and bitterness with sadness (there were two more things, but I forgot which ones).

... was criticized for blogging.

... heard a story about Gandi and sugar.

... learned that it’s no use being depressed that you’re not married, since after you get married, you’ll have new things to be depressed about.

... was told that you and the world may not be real, but a toothache is definitely real.

... gave a moshol comparing the world with a computer game. You have good guys, you have bad guys, you have the scenery. But in the end of the day, it’s all really just the computer program, the same one thing. And it’s all for one purpose (in the case of the game — to entertain you). The same way in the world and in life. There are good things, there are bad things, there is scenery, but really it’s all Hashem. And it’s all for one purpose only — to serve Him.

... talked about gilui and etzem (and slapping people).

... heard megillas Esther.

... went giving out sholoch mones with TRP. One Israeli family in the abovementioned pizza guy’s store did not like us so much. I think it’s either because they thought at first they have to pay for sholochmones, or because they just didn’t like to be ambushed by a pair of freaks.

... had omelet with lox for the first time in my life. (Very nice.)

... exchanged sholosh mones with a very cute frum family. They asked us whether we were Lubavitch and gave us a sholochmones package with some M&M’s inside.

— How did they know we were Lubavitch?
— They didn’t know, they asked.
— They didn’t ask if we were Bobov, did they?
— Perhaps they took a look at your facial hair, saw that you’re eating ice cream in the winter and concluded that you’re Lubavitch.
(in 5 minutes)
— Of course, maybe the fact that the sholochmones box was in the shape of 770 could also be a hint.

... expressed an opinion that rolling down a window at the red light and yelling “Are you Jewish?” at people in cars nearby is not the best strategy for distributing sholochmones.

... went to the Ohel, where I read a record number of letters from people and different people’s names (including a whole list given to me by the pizza store guy).

... got the answer to my avoida question while standing right at the Ohel.

... davened mincha.

... saw a video of the Rebbe saying that being a jerk is not the best strategy for kiruv.

... 10 minutes after leaving the Ohel, got a call from my mother. A close member of my family had been told a few weeks ago by doctors that she has cancer, r"l. My mom called to tell me that it was discovered that the person has no cancer, b"H.

... was subjected to torture of listening to probably the worst Purim shpil script in the history of Purim shpil script writing. Was shanghaied in participating in re-writing it. Was shanghaied in playing one of the main roles: Barack Hussein Achashverosh (also, Esther’s voice mail).

... almost went to Crown Heights for Shabbos-belt/Gemara shopping.

... had a hashgacha protis moment involving GPS and a cemetery.

... heard megillas Esther.

... discovered that no matter how bad a Purim shpill is, if you get people drunk, pretend to be drunk and say “Vashti Obama”, people will like it.

... ate a lot of chicken.

... drank a lot of mashkeh.

... danced a lot.

... heard an ancient Russian chassidic niggun.

... discovered that the local gabbai’s little son has a power to kill 200,000 people (according to the local shliach).

... discovered that a pianist may be good with his hands, but if you want to make a crocodile head out of two cardboard boxes, a biologist is better (not because it’s a crocodile, but because it involves cutting things with a knife).

... talked about gilui and etzem and how to focus on etzem.

... realized that the jury is still out on the question of who are bigger jerks: Russians or Israelis (drunk or sober).

... almost punched an Israeli (who was being a jerk).

... almost punched a Russian (who was being a jerk).

... pondered about the extent and applicability of ahavas Yisroel.

... pondered about how in general, Chabad Houses are divided into two wide categories (with some exceptions, I hasten to add): first category has a bunch of nutcases as congregants and tends to have very spiritual and chassidish atmosphere (usually thanks to the shliach); the second category has normal congregants and a very boring (formal and modern, but not chassidish) atmosphere. Of course, there are also places where the congregants are normal, but the rabbi is a fruitcake, but that’s another story.

... left at about 1 am back to Boston, having hallucinations from sleep deprivation for the most of the way. I kept telling myself that I would get off at Connecticut Welcoming Rest Stop (or something) and take a nap, but by the time I hit Mass Pike I realized I might have missed it (or imagined its existence), so I might as well just drive home.