My Story 30

I had originally come to Rabbi Kiwak as a result of my agonizing over Rosh HaShanah. Was the Jerusalem kibbutz (gathering) the "right" one, or the one in Miron? How was I to relate to the large numbers of people in each who seemed so obnoxious? Here, he taught me his views of people's motives. Most people are totally wrapped up in their own physical and emotional needs. People are "wound up" like a spring. They are full of tensions, which are expressed in every area of their lives. We should expect little altruistic behavior. Lying, cheating, steeling, are all expressions of this state of being "wound up". When a baby is born, he is totally centered on his immediate needs. This is what Kabbalah refers to as "Din" (harshness, judgment). When a spring is released, it immediately unwinds. This is an expression of that Din. From the mischievous actions of a child, through the terrible acts of crime of some adults, are the unwinding of that spring. But there are two ways for it to unwind. There can be an immediate release that eases tension, but accomplishes nothing, or a slow release, like the workings of a wind-up clock. The release of tension in the latter case will turn wheels and gears, resulting in great meaning for that release. We may know what time it is, and learn how to properly pace our lives; moment by moment, day by day. Most people simply go through the motions of everyday life. But one who has attached himself to an ideal, has placed himself into the works of a clock. The tensions are still there, but, upon being released in a controlled manner, can make the wheels and gears work their magic. Everyone who comes to a gathering of prayer and introspection has placed his "spring" in the clock. Each one who comes is a work in progress. Some are advanced, some are just beginning. The rudeness I had seen the previous year in Miron, was an expression of each person's Din; trying to be released, but not yet doing its job. However, even the worst of them, are light years ahead of those who are smug and satisfied with their faults. As far as where to go for Rosh HaShanah, it was essentially a non-issue. He showed me documentation that this entire subject was one of illusion. Rabbi Nachman had urged his followers to come to him for Rosh HaShanah. As he had repeated this exhortation days before his death, Rabbi Natan had understood that he intended his followers to visit his grave on the eve of Rosh HaShanah, and pray together on Rosh HaShanah every year. Rabbi Nachman's original instruction was that they should gather in the community's main synagogue. But, as numbers grew, and persecution of the Breslovers became more widespread after 1834, it became necessary for them to pray separately from the wider community.  This, however,  was not ideal. Breslov had spread from Ukraine to Poland about the time of the first World War. The borders were largely sealed, making the Uman pilgrimage virtually impossible. The Polish Breslovers, in the early 1930s, made their own kibbutz in Lublin. The elders in Uman were consulted. They wrote a letter to the leaders in Poland, in which they said: "There is no kibbutz outside of Uman. But, gathering together is a good idea, in order to help concentration in prayer, and to bring about encouragement and "awakening" in the attendees." Rabbi Kiwak had shown me that the assumption that Breslovers needed to go to any one place (other than Uman when possible) was simply illusion. However, how nice it would be to pray where one is aroused to G-d!.He told me that he had his own small kibbutz of about twenty people. I could come if I wished. A friend who was going to Miron for Rosh HaShanah allowed me and my family to use their Jerusalem house for the holiday. I attended Rabbi Kiwak's kibbutz. Everyone was smiling. One could see the wonderful things happening inside of them. But I still had another lesson to come. Rabbi Nachman would speak inspirational words at twilight between the first and second day of Rosh HaShanah. This had become the tradition at every kibbutz; to have someone speak words of inspiration at that time. Rabbi Kiwak gave a lovely talk for about twenty minutes. To my great surprise, when he was done, he gave the same talk all over again. To my astonishment, he began it a third time. Five minutes into this third time, he turned to the people and said "Rabbosai! (gentlemen), how many times do I need to repeat this until everyone stops thinking: "this doesn't mean me!'" That was it! That was the key! That was the problem with present-day Breslov, as well as most of the Jewish world! Everyone sits, listens, and then thinks "this doesn't mean me!". I have known Rabbi Kiwak for thirty-seven years now. He has always been there for me and my family, through thick and thin. He has taught us that it DOES mean us! But the first rule is still "don't worry!".