Tuesday, March 25, 2014

knock knock knockin on heaven's door . . .Lizensk 2014

Just got back from Lizensk, (lezajsk) Poland where I spent the day  knock knock knockin on heaven's door . . .
davening, praying and reciting Tehillim at various kivrei tzadikim.

It was a real form of closure for me actually this time around, as I sat down in the bus from Rzeszów Airport and the driver a youngish local in his twenties turned on one of the local rock music radio stations. As I sat excited to reach my destination, the tzion of the heilige tzadik the Rebbe Reb Melech, I was assaulted by rock music to which the Yiddish murmurs and mumbles of discord around me replied

"Vos far a niggunim iz deis?!" what kind of strange niggunim/music is he playing? as Axl Rose singing Guns N Roses "Knocking on Heaven's Door," poured out of the speakers, it hit me . . .
that was exactly what I was here to do. I had come to knock, knock on heaven's door, to ask Hashem to open the Shaare' tefillah and Shaarei Dima that cannot be ever locked.

The effect was a kind of coming full circle, a kind of personal closure for me.
Here in Poland on the way to the Rebbe Reb Melech, on the way to knock on Heaven's door,
and I thought to myself, no one else on this bus but me has any clue what that song means or what he is singing!

Thats when it hammered the message home, no matter what my origins, upbringing or influences, so long as I could uplift myself to the right place and channel it all to the right direction thats what it was meant to be. . .
whatever nitzotzos, whatever sparks (if there were ever any) have been released, I came to knock on heaven's door by the Noam Elimelech, and be answered and poel a yehusha for all those who sent me on my trip and sponsored my way.


The same kind of weird irony struck me as I walked back from the holy tzion of Rav Tzvi Elimelech author of Bnei Yissaschar in Dynow. As I walked back instead of walking back through the beis hachaim for some reason that only Heaven dictates, I walked out of the gate and walked up the dark path on the left.

As I walked towards the entrance on my right bordered by the high cemetary fence I noticed something on the ground. Here in Dynow Poland lay a plastic bag emblazoned with the Hebrew logo Steimazsky, the Israeli bookstore and I thought to myself, how funny that wherever we all go we all leave some imprint something of ourselves behind. It can be a piece of trash like this Steimazsky bag discarded by some Israeli pilgrim come like me to daven here by kivrei tzadikim, it can be a song, knock knock knocking on heaven's door. . .what kind of imprint will you leave behind? thats the question to ask ourselves . . .

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