Happy birthday for me

First off, I know I got the title wrong. It was intentional. Let me explain why.

For years, I've been adamant in my stance against any kind of celebration on the anniversary of my birth. A lot of people have wondered why. A lot haven't, but they're probably not reading this anyway. For those who have wondered why, allow me to elaborate and maybe give you a glimpse into my mind so you can understand how it works (warning: my mind is not for the faint of heart; those with weak constitutions or pacemakers should consult with their primary physician before proceeding).

A birthday celebration is an acknowledgement and expression of joy for the fact that a person has lived another year. In my mind this is no cause for joy. After all, aside from everything and everyone that died in the course of the same year, this is a feat that has been accomplished by every living organism on the planet. So why the celebration? The birthday boy/girl has done what any three-toed sloth has done, or any convict on death row, or any house plant not under my wife's care. Whoopty-doo.

When it came to my birthday, I was no exception. Was the world any better now that I've taken a year's worth of more breaths? Not necessarily. But despite my efforts to stop them or provide alternatives (e.g. anniversaries of my Alyah, ascension to Har HaBayit, wedding, et al), people still want to celebrate my birthday. Maybe it's habit, maybe it's manners, or maybe they actually like me despite my Sheldon-Cooperesque view of birthdays. Whatever it is, it seemed nigh impossible to stop the birthday wishes. What to do?

As the saying goes: if you can't beat 'em, make 'em work for it. (ok, that's not how the saying goes, but it works with my concept here)

Since the problem I had with people celebrating my birthday was the lack of effect my existence has on the world and therefore was no cause for joy, I would use my birthday as a tool for changing the world for the better thereby making it the reason for happiness so many people wanted it to be.

And who wield that tool?

You.

If, for my birthday, everyone reading this did something to make the world a better place, simply because it's the day I was born, then at would truly be a reason for me to celebrate.

So do something good. Give to charity. Help someone. Fix up your neighborhood. Bring people together. That way, instead of it being a happy birthday TO me, it will be a happy birthday FOR me.

And it'll probably be a happy day for you, too.

The man who made me who I am

The Jewish Week printed an article about my Rav, Rav Aharon Bina. Unfortunately, it is not a positive article.

I would like to respond to this article here because I feel that my short response, buried in the second page of the comment section, was ineffectual amidst all the other voices trying to be heard there.

I chose Rav Bina to be my posek because I have never met a man so open and honest. What he feels, he says. This applies to his opinions of people as well as his vast Halachic knowledge. I love knowing that he will always be up front with me when I ask him anything.

When I was told that it was financially impossible for me to return to Yeshiva for a second year, Rav Bina offered to accept me free of charge.

He bent the rules so I could go to family friends on Rosh HaShanna (a night when NO student is allowed out of Yeshiva) because he knew the family. He knew that they were close-to-poverty poor, and wanted them to have whatever gift I would be bringing them. He even gave me money to get them a thank-you gift afterward. I later found out that this was one of many families Rav Bina assisted financially without their knowledge.

On another "in" Shabbat (when all boys have to be in Yeshiva), Rav Bina once again let me out when my mother asked for special permission to have me be with her. She was visiting from the US and wanted to spend her one Shabbat in Israel with her son. Despite his reputation as a strict follower of his own rules, he let me go. Ever since my mother's murder, that Shabbat has even more meaning for me. Rav Bina let me spend that much more time with her.

I discussed my life with him. He let me into his home late into the night just so he could listen to whatever I'm-18-so-whatever-problems-I-have-are-monumental issues I had to vent. And he didn't only do this for me; he did it for any of his boys that wanted to talk to him. Almost 24 hours a day for a whole school year he was there for me.

When my mother was killed, Rav Bina was at the funeral even though I hadn't seen him in six years. He held me while I cried into his shoulder. He came back numerous times during the week of Shiva, despite the many other things he certainly had to do.

He officiated at my wedding. He didn't want any payment or even any under-the-table tip. He said I could donate some money to the Yeshiva if I felt like giving any money. Because he was doing it it for me, not the money. If money was to be given, it should be for his boys instead of himself. That's just who he is. He even gave us a lovely silver Kiddush cup that I'm proud to use at my Shabbat table.

Every year I pray with Rav Bina on Yom Kippur. I wake up before the crack of dawn so I can be in the Minyan HE leads. And in the nine years I've been doing so, he's never charged me for my seat. In return I've offered to lead the Yeshiva's tours free of charge, but he insists on making sure I get paid each time.

I'm not going to bring up the negative things said about him in the article, because I don't think they deserve acknowledgement.

He's my Rav, and I owe all that I am to him.

Consider that when you hear or read anything negative about him.