And still I haven't heard back from the young lady. Ah, these social conventions- do I call her directly? Call the go-betweens? Call others? Sit and wait? I wish it was simpler. Or maybe I wish I wasn't such a wimp.

So, another halacha piece from the Rav (not the Rav, my Rav). He has published a very nice parsha sheet for many years- I think he may have been the first. This week he had a piece about the luchos- we're told that Moshe dropped them because their "neshama," so to speak, left them when they "saw" the eigel and what was going on. So they became to heavy (like a dead person, I guess) and he dropped them.

He continues by pointing out how this shows us how it's difficult to maintain our spirituality in places devoid of it. Lesson: We should live in areas where there is spirituality.

OK, true. But many of us don't have that option. Wouldn't it have been nicer if the lesson had been: "We see from this how great are those who maintain their spirituality in areas devoid of it"?

Yeah, like I'm one to talk.

Anyway. He also had bits about how everything is contained in the Torah (just because the sun rose every day for thousands of years doesn't mean it will tomorrow, unless there's a proof in the Torah) and another spinning an old Midrash which says that one of the eleven spices used for ketores smelled bad, to show us how even sinners have a place in the klal. The spin? "Well, yeah, but you still need a minyan (i.e., the ten spices) as well."

I don't think that's too productive- and I think there's too much spinning. For example, there's the famous story of how the Maggid told the Vilna Gaon that he was only great because he was able to stay cooped up in his house and learn all day. "Try heading out into the world like every other Jew," he said, "and see if you can remain the Vilna Gaon." The Gaon started to cry.

This, of course, fits well with my point above about maintaining ourselves in this world. Alas, the story has been spun in recent years so the Gaon gets the last word, either telling the Maggid that his life is tough too, or that life doesn't have to be tough. Not only are those silly and callous responses, they reduce the Gaon to someone who couldn't take mussar, and dilute the meaning of a powerful story to defend a political position.

Some happy links, now:

See if you can figure it out. It took me a while, and I needed help from my Hebrew-speaking parents.

A new book by Slifkin! Maybe I'll get this one. Maybe I'll go on his tour come Pesach.