By Rabbi Elimelech Biderman

When it comes to marrying off children, many people are worried, “How will we manage to give so much money? The chasunah expenses and the dowry are so expensive!”

This problem has been around for generations. It has always been difficult to marry off children. But Hashem helps. Once, a shidduch was almost finalized, but the girl’s father said he wouldn’t agree to the shidduch before the boy’s father promised four hundred liras to the couple as a dowry.

The boy’s father wasn’t sure he could afford it.

He spoke to Reb Chaim Brim zt’l and relayed all his fears. Reb Chaim Brim said, “Let’s ask the Chazon Ish together.” The father explained to the Chazon Ish that he is afraid he might not be able to keep this promise. The Chazon Ish zt’l replied, “We see that if one tries, Hashem helps.”

The Chazon Ish asked for his name so that he could pray for him.

The end of the story was that the father was able to pay up the entire sum without any hardships at all (Maaseh Ish, vol.2 p.160).

Once, two mechutanim came to the Chazon Ish zt’l. Each of them argued that the other one should pay the lion’s share of their children’s upcoming chasunah. When they left, the Chazon Ish told his relative, Reb Shmaryahu Greineman zt’l, “Do you know what they were arguing about? They were debating who should receive Hashem’s brachos. Each one said the other one should receive Hashem’s brachos…” Because Hashem blesses and helps those who are obligated to pay for a chasunah.

A young man was engaged, and his future in-laws promised him a dowry. They kept their promise down to the last penny.

His first Shabbos as a married man, in his in-laws’ home, he noticed something was wrong. The candlesticks were made from clay, and the beds were broken. In general, he saw signs of poverty in his in-laws’ home. He asked his wife about it, and she explained that her parents sold all their utensils and went into debt to cover the dowry they promised.

He declared, “We can’t let matters stay this way.”

On Motzei Shabbos, he returned the dowry and gifts. He couldn’t have his wife light Shabbos candles with silver candlesticks while his in-laws had clay ones. He couldn’t enjoy wealth while his in-laws were suffering poverty on his account.

On Sunday morning, he borrowed twenty thousand rubles from a friend. He used part of the money to buy utensils for his home, and he went to the market to see where he could invest the rest of the money. A wealthy merchant offered him a lucrative business opportunity for ten thousand rubles. He invested and became rich in a short time.

Because of his wealth, when his children came of age, he made prestigious shidduchim. One of his mechutanim was Reb Shimon Sofer zt’l (son of the Chasam Sofer zt’l). At that wedding, in Krakow, a Rav asked him how he earned his wealth and how he merited this prestigious shidduch with Reb Shimon Sofer. He told him his story. He explained that he was willing to forgo his own pleasure and wealth so his in-laws wouldn’t suffer. And just as he did kindness with them, Hashem performed kindness to him, and he earned wealth…and wonderful shidduchim.

This story is brought down in Mishnas Yosef (Brachos 8.), who concludes, “It isn’t my way to write stories in this sefer, but this story has an important message that the wise can learn from. They should be cautious with the money and utensils of their fathers in-law, and more importantly, they should be cautious with their father-in-law’s heart. If you act kindly, you will receive many brachos from Above.” The Chofetz Chaim would tell people that he married a poor girl without a dowry, and in this merit, he was able to learn his entire life. His friend, who did a wealthy shidduch, went into business shortly after the wedding and lost all his money. “Had I married wealthy, it is likely that I too would be drawn to business…” There was a bachur who was looking for a shidduch that promised him full support for five years. The Chofetz Chaim zt’l asked him, “How will you support yourself after the five years pass?” The bachur replied, “Hashem will help.” The Chofetz Chaim asked him, “If you believe Hashem will help you, why don’t you believe that Hashem can help you the first five years, too?”

It states (Mishlei 15:27), those who despise gifts will live.

The Tur (Choshen Mishpat 249) explains that it is a middas chassidus, a righteous approach, not to accept gifts from anyone. Instead, one should trust that Hashem will give him all his needs. For doing so, he will live long.

The Prishah explains, “Usually, people desire presents because they think the gifts will grant life for them and their families. We tell them, hate gifts. Instead, have bitachon that Hashem will help you, and then Hashem will grant you life.

By Rabbi Moshe Meir Weiss

Our parsha talks about Avraham Avinu’s purchase of the M’aras HaMachpelah, the holy place where he and Sarah would be buried. It is also the burial site of Adam and Chava, Yitzchak and Rivka, and Yaakov and Leah. But how did Avraham Avinu find this holy place? The Sefer Kushios [#369], written by one of the Rishonim, relates that at the Akeidas Yitzchak, when Avraham went to take the ayil, the ram that was caught in the thicket to slaughter it instead of Yitzchak, the Satan released it. Avraham had to chase it, and only caught up to it at the M’aras HaMachpelah. Once there, he smelled its ethereal scent and recognized its fantastic worth. He also saw two places already occupied, with torches above them, and he knew this would be his future burial site.

The timing of this was perfect because, upon his return after the Akeidah, he found out that Sarah had succumbed when she was told about the Akeidah by Satan. It’s possible that the word ayil, spelled alef, yud and lammed, hints to the three couples who would yet be buried in the M’aras HaMachpelah, namely Avraham, Yitzchak, and Leah. It doesn’t name Yaakov, because then we would think it could indicate Yaakov and Rachel. Thus, it mentions Leah so that we know the couple is Yaakov and Leah. The Sefer Masok m’Dvash cites another way that Avraham discovered the M’aras HaMachpelah. In the Zohar, Chaye Sarah [127], it says that when Avraham prayed, he went out in the field for meditation and was drawn by a magnificent smell (remember that ‘scent is the enjoyment of the soul’) and a radiant light towards the M’aras HaMachpelah. Incidentally, the etymology of the word m’aras, cave, is appropriate for a burial site of the righteous for its letters mem, ayin, reish, and sof, make up the two words meis (mem and sof) and eir (ayin and reish), to die and awaken, for that’s what happens to the righteous: they pass away and wake-up instantly in the next world.

Yet the most popular explanation of how Avraham Avinu discovered the M’aras HaMachpelah is what’s stated in Pirkei d’Reb Eliezer [chapter 35]. There, it refers to when Avraham prepared the cattle to give to the three angels. The cattle ran away and he chased it all the way to the M’aras HaMachpelah. It was then that he discovered its beauty and secrets. Both the Panei’ach Raza and Ba’al HaTurim say this is hinted to in the words, “V’el habakar ratz – And Avraham ran to the cattle.” The words v’el habakar (vav, alef, lammed, and hei, beis, kuf, and reish) are the same letters as v’el hakever, meaning, “[Avraham ran] to the grave.”

This immediately begs the question. Why would Hashem choose that particular day when He caused a blazing sun to be out, when Avraham was already busy with angelic guests, and when he had already broken off the visit by the Shechina itself. This was the day Hashem chose to show Avraham his future burial site? At the time, Sarah was 90. She wouldn’t need a burial site for another 37 years. Why couldn’t Hashem choose a quiet Sunday afternoon with nothing else going , to show Avraham Avinu the M’aras HaMachpelah? I think that the most obvious answer is to point out the middah k’neged middah, measure for measure. Avraham was then on the third day after his surgery and this was the exact day he did a superhuman act of hospitality! He told the Arab-like angels, “V’hi’sha’anu tachas ha’eitz – Take rest under my tree.” For this, Avraham was shown his future resting place. It also could be that only once he was circumcised was he worthy to have admittance into the M’aras HaMachpelah. Adam haRishon was born circumcised, and Eisev, who was uncircumcised only got his head into the M’aras HaMachpelah.

It is fascinating to note that the Yalkut Reuveini cites the Sefer HaTemunah: After all of the couples were buried in the M’aras HaMachpelah, angels brought Moshe and Tziporah and buried them there as well. When it says, “V’lo yada ish es k’vuraso – And no man knew his [Moshe’s] gravesite,” this implies that angels did know! The Chida, zt”l, zy”a, says there’s a hint to this, because the first letters of m’aras s’dei HaMachpelah, (the cave of the field of Machpeleh) are mem, shin, and hei which spell Moshe. The Mizimras Ha’Aretz reveals further that the same words, m’aras s’dei HaMachpelah, equal 410 in gematria, the exact gematria as, “Zu hi Tziporah – This includes Tziporah.” The Chida also deflects the question, “Wasn’t the city called Kiryas Arba because there were four couples?” while according to this there were five couples? He answers that there were four couples buried there from the ‘get go,’ and Moshe and Tziporah were added only later. This gives us more holy thoughts to think about, when we are zoche to visit the holy site of the M’aras HaMachpelah. In the merit of these great Tzadikim , may Hashem bless us with long life, good health, and everything wonderful.

By Rabbi Moshe Elefant

WHAT BRACHA DO YOU MAKE ON KUGEL?

There are different types of kugel, and the bracha depends on the ingredients and how the kugel is prepared.

A carrot kugel that is more cake-like would be a Borei Minei Mezonos.

The same applies to apple kugel. If it is prepared like a cake, the bracha would be Borei Minei Mezonos. However, if it consists primarily of apples with other ingredients mixed in, the bracha would be Borei Pri Ha’etz.

Regarding potato kugel, Rav Belsky, zt”l, held that the bracha is Borei Pri Ha’adamah. The reason is that potato kugel is essentially similar to mashed potatoes.

Generally, when a food is mashed or pureed and loses its original form, its bracha can change to Shehakol. For example, if peas or carrots are pureed until they are no longer recognizable, the bracha would be Shehakol. One might therefore think that mashed potatoes should also be Shehakol. However, the Mishnah Berurah explains that mashed potatoes retain enough of their original texture and identity to maintain their original bracha. Therefore, potato kugel, which is essentially mashed potatoes with additional ingredients, retains the bracha of Borei Pri Ha’adamah.

CAN DRINKING GLASSES BE USED FOR BOTH DAIRY AND MEAT? WHAT’S THE HALACHA?

Sephardim follow the opinion that glass does not absorb; therefore, as long as it is clean, unpainted, and contains no other materials, glasses can be used for both dairy and meat. Ashkenazim follow the opinion that glass can absorb, and should be designated for milk or meat.

However, some poskim are lenient with drinking glasses because they are not used with hot dairy or meat, and are not washed with dairy or meat. Since they remain pareve, they may be used at either a dairy or meat meal, but you cannot put actual milk or meat into the glass.

WHAT BRACHA DO YOU MAKE ON CHOCOLATE?

Since cocoa beans grow on trees, poskim discuss whether the bracha on chocolate should be Ha’eitz.

However, the custom is to make a Shehakol, since cocoa beans are too bitter to eat on their own and must be processed and combined with other Shehakol ingredients, such as sugar.

By Rabbi Aryeh Lebowitz

And afterwards Avraham buried his wife Sarah in the Cave of Machpelah facing Mamre, which is Chevron in the land of Canaan.

~ Bereishis 23:19

On special occasions, such as the week of Parshas Chayei Sarah, parts of Me’aras HaMachpelah, including Kever Yitzchak Avinu, which are used by Muslims during the rest of the year, are opened to the Jewish community. While it may be exciting to enter these areas that are usually off-limits, is it permitted to daven there, since the rest of the year it serves as a mosque? To address this question, we must clarify the status of Islam in halacha, as well as whether it is permitted to daven in an area that is a place of worship for another religion. This issue is discussed at length by Rav Shmuel Rabinovitch (Shaarei Tziyon 2:29), the Rav of the Kotel.

Avoiding Even the Appearance of Worshiping Avodah Zarah

The Mishna in Avodah Zarah (11b) teaches: A city that has idol worship within it is forbidden to enter, but if the idol worship is outside the city, it is permitted to enter. What is the ruling regarding traveling there? If the road is specifically designated for that place, it is forbidden. However, if one can travel on it to another place, it is permitted.

The Gemara explains that the basic rationale behind the Mishna is that it is forbidden to do anything that could lead another to mistakenly think he is engaging in avodah zarah activity. Similarly, the Gemara also cites a beraisa that prohibits bending down in front of an idol to remove a thorn or to pick up his money that fell, because it gives the impression that he is bowing to the idol.

Based on this, the Rambam (Peirush HaMishna) writes that one is prohibited to enter a city that contains a house of idolatry, and is certainly forbidden to live there. However, since nowadays Jews live in galus and are scattered among pagans, we have no choice but to live in such places. Still, the Rambam writes, it is certainly forbidden to enter into a beis avodah zarah or even to look at such a place.

Tosafos (Avodah Zarah 17b s.v. Neizil), commenting on the Gemara’s statement that it is better to travel on a path that leads past a house of ill repute than to travel past a house of idolatry, echoes the Rambam’s sentiments, adding that one should distance himself as much as possible from such a place. The Rashba (Avodah Zarah 12a s.v. B’Zman) adds that even if one lives in a city with avodah zarah, it is forbidden to walk on a street where the avodah zarah will be displayed, such as on a public holiday, unless that street also provides access to permitted venues. Otherwise, it looks like he is traveling to get to the avodah zarah. It is certainly forbidden to enter even the courtyard of a beis avodah zarah or to converse with one of the idolaters there, as it could lead others to think that he too is worshiping the avodah zarah. The Rashba adds that such activities are forbidden even for the sake of pikuach nefesh. Following the Rashba, the Tur (Y.D. 149), writes that it is forbidden to enter a beis avodah zarah even for pikuach nefesh. The Ritva (11b s.v. Masnisin), though, qualifies this ruling, stating that it only applies if the only reason idolaters enter the place in question is to worship the avodah zarah. However, if they sometimes enter for other reasons, such as for communal affairs or to take a shortcut, it would be permitted to go inside, since others will assume that he is entering for those permitted activities.

The Status of Islam

The Rambam famously writes (Hilchos Ma’achalos Asuros 11:7) that it is forbidden to drink the wine of non-Jews who are not idolaters, such as “these Yishmaelim,” but it is permissible to benefit from it. The Rambam maintained that the Arabs with whom he was used to dealing, i.e. Muslims, are not considered ovdei avadah zarah, and therefore it is permissible to benefit from, if not drink, their wine. He elaborates on this point in his Teshuvos (448), and writes that although they err in other ways, Muslims do believe in the one true G-d. He adds that although they may worship in ancestral locations that were once batei avodah zarah, they do not have avodah zarah-based intentions in their prayers. This is also the opinion of the Rashba (Toras HaBayis 130b), among other rishonim, that Islam is not avodah zarah.

However, Sefer HaEshkol (3:58) cites a teshuvah from the Geonim that Muslims are indeed considered to be practicing avodah zarah, based on the Gemara (Avodah Zarah 11b) that states that one of the remaining batei avodah zarah is in Arabia. The Meiri (Avodah Zarah 57) and Ran (Chiddushim, Sanhedrin 61b) cite this source as well, and the Ran explains further that even though Muslims don’t worship their prophet, they still bow and pray to his image, which is similar to real idolatry.

Entering a mosque would depend on this fundamental machlokes. According to the Rambam, who does not consider Islam to be avodah zarah, it would be permitted. However, according to the Ran, who does consider Islam to be avodah zarah, it would be forbidden. Since we accept the Rambam’s opinion, there should not be an issue. In fact, both Rav Elyashiv (cited in Shu”t Avnei Yishpeh 1:153) and Rav Ovadiah Yosef (Yabia Omer vol. 7 Y.D. 12) rule this way.

However, Rav Chaim Palagi (Chaim B’Yad 26) writes that while Islam may not be considered avodah zarah, mosques are still regarded as places of tumah from our perspective, and for a Jew to practice Islam would be seen as turning away from Hashem. Therefore, we would be obligated to give up our lives rather than convert to Islam, since it is still a foreign religion to the Jewish people. Thus, Rav Palagi writes that it is absolutely forbidden to daven in a mosque, since the concern of the Gemara that we cannot give the appearance of participating in another form of worship applies as much to Islam as it does to Christianity. He further rules that we must maintain a distance of at least four amos from the entrance of a mosque, just as we would from a church.

The Opinions of Contemporary Poskim

Rav Rabinovitch himself initially hesitates to permit entering and davening in the area of Kever Yitzchak Avinu, since the structure was built by the Muslims as a mosque and is generally used for this purpose. He is concerned for both the opinion of the Ran that Islam is avodah zarah as well as Rav Palagi that even if it is not avodah zarah, it is still forbidden to enter and daven in a mosque. However, the areas that are used regularly for tefillah on behalf of the Jewish people should be permissible to daven in. However, Rav Rabinovitch questions this as well, since the Gemara (Avodah Zarah 53b) and the Shulchan Aruch rule (Y.D. 146:10) that if non-Jews abandoned a beis avodah zarah due to war (and never nullified its status), the area retains its status as a beis avodah zarah. Since even the Jewish areas were previously used by Muslims for prayer, perhaps even these areas are problematic.

Rav Rabinovitch quotes a sevara from the Mishnas Chanoch (69) that since Muslims built the structure to honor the Avos it doesn’t have a negative status associated with it, but he rejects this argument because the fact remains that the area was built by Muslims as a mosque.

The Tzitz Eliezer (10:1:44) writes that it is forbidden to daven in any area of Me’aras HaMachpelah that is filled with Muslim books, or has Muslim symbols on the wall, even if we do not consider it to be an actual beis avodah zarah. The Klausenberger Rebbe (Shu”t Divrei Yatziv O.C. 90, Y.D. 40) also writes that it is forbidden to daven there. However, Sefer Oraisa (19, p. 317) states that the Klausenberger Rebbe paskened this way immediately following the Six Day War, when the Jews and Muslims prayed together in the same area. Nowadays, when they each have their own designated places, he would rule that it is permitted.

However, Rav Ovadiah Yosef argues that Islam is definitely not considered avodah zarah, and suggests that had the Ran heard all the Rambam’s arguments, he too would have admitted that this is the case. He therefore rules that it is absolutely permitted to daven in any area set aside as a beis haknesses in Me’aras HaMachpelah. This is also considered to be the opinion of Rav Yosef Shalom Elyashiv.

Rav Moshe Sternbuch (Teshuvos V’Hanhagos 4:35) writes that although it is distasteful to enter a mosque, it is technically permissible, and is therefore not problematic to enter and daven in Me’aras HaMachpelah. It is also known that Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach davened there himself. Based on all these poskim, Rav Rabinovitch ultimately rules that it is permissible to enter into and daven in the entire Me’aras HaMachpelah, including Kever Yitzchak. Although we do not allow political considerations to dictate halacha, we should also consider the perceptions of our actions. Refraining from davening at Me’aras HaMachpelah would give the incorrect impression that we do not consider it important, which could have negative consequences in future discussions about Jewish control over these areas. Therefore, there is another argument to avoid the stringencies of the minority opinions, and instead to follow the majority of poskim. This gives us a great opportunity to daven at the burial site of our Avos hakedoshim and, b’ezras Hashem, be meivi geulah livnei bineihem.

By Rabbi Dr. Yaakov Abramovitz

What lesson can we “draw” from Rivkah’s well?

When Eliezer first encountered Rivkah, something remarkable happened. As she approached the well, the water miraculously rose to meet her. Rashi (Bereishis 24:16-17) explains that this miracle immediately signaled to Eliezer that Rivkah was no ordinary young woman. Yet only moments later, after Rivkah offered to provide water for Eliezer and his camels, the Torah describes her repeatedly drawing water from the well herself (24:20). The miracle had disappeared. What changed?

Rav Zalman Sorotzkin zt”l (Oznayim LaTorah) explains that the two trips to the well served very different purposes. The first was for Rivkah’s own needs. There, Hashem spared her unnecessary effort. The second was an act of chessed. This time, Hashem did not make the task easier, because every bucket she drew was another moment of mitzvah. Why deprive her of that?

This perspective is profoundly counterintuitive.

When a mitzvah becomes inconvenient, we often assume something has gone wrong. If getting to minyan is difficult, if helping someone requires sacrificing time or energy, if honoring our parents or caring for our children demands patience, we instinctively wish Hashem would remove the obstacles.

Rivkah teaches us that sometimes the “obstacle” is part of the opportunity.

Chazal teach, l’fum tza’ara agra (Avos 5:23) – reward is commensurate with the effort. We often understand this to mean that despite the difficulty, the mitzvah is still worthwhile. Rivkah teaches something even deeper. The effort is not merely the price of the mitzvah; it is part of the mitzvah itself.

Hashem was happy to spare Rivkah the effort of drawing water when it served no greater purpose. But when every step, every bucket, and every ounce of exertion became an act of chessed, He left the effort exactly where it belonged. The next time doing the right thing feels difficult, perhaps we should stop asking, “Why didn’t Hashem make this easier?” and start asking, “Could this effort be precisely what Hashem wants from me?”

By Rabbi Eli Mansour

Parashat Chayeh-Sara tells the famous story of Eliezer, Avraham’s trusted servant, whom Avraham sent to find a suitable match for Avraham’s son, Yitzchak. Upon arriving at the well outside Avraham’s hometown, Aram Naharayim, from where Avraham instructed him to find the match, Eliezer prayed to G-d, begging for His assistance. He said that he would ask a girl at the well for some water, and he asked Hashem to arrange that the girl who not only agreed to give him water, but also offered to give water to his camels, should be the girl destined to marry Yitzchak. Sure enough, Eliezer saw Rivka – the daughter of Yitzchak’s cousin, Betuel – at the well, and, not knowing who she was, he approached her and asked for water. She agreed, gave him water from her pitcher, and then said that she would draw water from the well for his camels. Rivka then proceeded to repeatedly draw water and pour it into the trough for all ten of Eliezer’s camels.

Surprisingly, the Torah tells that as Rivka was doing all this, Eliezer watched carefully, wondering “if G-d had made his mission successful or not” (24:21). It seems that even at this point, after Rivka offered to draw water for his camels, he was still not convinced. He needed to observe her throughout this process to determine whether or not she was indeed the right girl to marry Avraham’s son.

We must ask, what else did Rivka need to prove? Eliezer explicitly said that the suitable girl would be the one who responded to his request for water by offering to draw water for his camels. Why did he still need to wait while Rivka proceeded to draw the water before concluding that she was the one chosen by G-d to marry Yitzchak?

Rav Leib Mintzberg (Jerusalem, 1943-2018), in his Ben Melech, explains that the quality of one’s Chesed is not assessed merely by the practical results, by the tangible benefits that he provides. It is measured also by the way it is performed, by whether one helps his fellow graciously, warmly, with a smile, in a manner that makes the recipient feel comfortable and respected.

We’ve all had different kinds of experiences when asking for a favor. Sometimes the person grants our request, but does so coldly, almost begrudgingly, giving us the feeling that he or she would have preferred not to have been bothered. And then there are times when the person does the favor happily, with a warm smile, asking if there’s anything else we need, making us feel comfortable and at ease. This is a critically important component of Chesed. Indeed, the Gemara teaches in Masechet Baba Batra (9b) that one who gives money to somebody in need is rewarded with six blessings, whereas one who speaks words of comfort to that individual, lifting his spirits and giving him encouragement, receives eleven blessings – because making a person feel comfortable and at ease is a crucial aspect of kindness.

This, Rav Mintzberg writes, is what Eliezer was watching for. Rivka already said that she would draw water for the camels – but Eliezer wanted to see if she would do it warmly and happily, which she of course did.

Rav Mintzberg explains on this basis why, afterward, Eliezer gave Rivka as a gift two bracelets and a nose ring, adorning her hands and her face. This symbolizes the fact that she excelled in both aspects of Chesed – the action, and the demeanor. She exerted physical effort to draw a large amount of water for Eliezer’s camels, but she also helped him with her face, by wearing a warm smile, by showing her eagerness to help.

And these two elements – the act of Chesed, coupled with her warmth and graciousness – are what made Rivka worthy of marrying Yitzchak and becoming a matriarch of Hashem’s treasured nation.

By Chaya Sora Jungreis-Gertzulin

“Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match, find me a find, catch me a catch…” Who can forget the scene from Fiddler, where Tzeitel, Hodel and Chava sing about the perfect match.

The Vilna Gaon teaches that the first time a specific word or concept appears in the Torah, it establishes its true essence and leaves us with a valuable life lesson. For insight on how to approach the shidduch process, we turn to this week’s parsha, Chayei Sora, where we find the first mention of one searching for an appropriate shidduch.

“And Avrohom was old, advanced in days, and HaShem blessed Avrohom ‘bakol’, with everything.” (Bereishis 24:1) Ibn Ezra comments that “bakol” encompasses wealth, honor, prestige and longevity. Radak explains that Avrohom had everything, there was little more he could ask for in life, except to see his beloved son married. Finding a suitable spouse was not merely another item on Avrohom’s bucket list. It was about the future of his family and the continuation of his legacy.

Additionally, Rashi teaches that the gematria of “bakol” is 52 (beis-2; kaf-20, lamed-30), the same as ‘ben’, son (beis-2; nun-50). To Avrohom, his “everything” was his son, Yitzchok. And now, that the years are passing, with Sora no longer alive, and Avrohom getting older, it was time to find a suitable shidduch for Yitzchok.

I am reminded of my own Zeide. To Zeide, each grandchild born after the Holocaust was the gift of life. As the oldest, Zeide was looking forward to having the nachas of seeing me married, the miracle of watching the generations continue. Just as Avrohom was concerned about Yitzchok’s future, Zeide was concerned about the future of his grandchildren.

And so, Zeide had a plan. Being that he was both a beloved rov and the family patriarch – not only to his immediate family, but to his extended family as well – he was invited to many simchos. Simchos, Zeide was happy to participate in, but he needed a driver. Zeide’s plan was that I drive and accompany him to all these special occasions. In Yiddish, he would lovingly introduce me, “Dus iz mein einekel, this is my grandchild, tochter fin Rebbetzin Esther, daughter of Rebbetzin Esther, mir zicht a shidduch, we are looking for a shidduch.”

Zeide’s plan worked. At a cousin’s bar mitzva, someone knew someone… that someone became my husband.

From the time of Avrohom Avinu, many have taken on the role of shadchan, hoping to make that perfect match. In this week’s parsha, Avrohom sends his trusted servant, Eliezer, on a mission to find a match for Yitzchok. He first makes Eliezer swear to only seek a bride from Choron, Avrohom’s home town. Even though Avrohom was living in Canaan, and influenced many there to believe in one G-d, he insisted on a girl from Choron. He understood that while ideologies can be taught, character traits are difficult to change. Avrohom knew that the future wife of Yitzchak would become an Eim B’Yisroel, a matriarch of the Jewish nation. A royal. He also knew the people of Choron, and recognized that they had the important traits of kindheartedness and graciousness. Just recently, I came across a survey that had amongst its questions, what qualities one prioritizes in selecting a spouse. The results were: good looks, personality, financial security, compatibility, sense of humor and honesty – in that order. I couldn’t help but wonder: Whatever happened to kindness? Where was the good heart? Avrohom Avinu taught us thousands of years ago that beyond all the other qualities one might seek, a kind and compassionate heart is essential. Eliezer understood that he was on an important mission. Upon his arrival to Choron, he turns to HaShem with tefilla. A prayer that HaShem show kindness to Avrohom be helping him succeed in his mission. We learn from Eliezer how important it is to daven to HaShem whenever we need clarity in our life pursuits. Eliezer comes up with a plan of his own to recognize a girl who embodies true kindness. “The girl… who says to me ‘drink and I will even give your camels to drink’… she is the one You have chosen for your servant Yitzchok.” (Bereishis 24:14) No sooner was his prayer finished, does he spot Rivka who was carrying a jug of water upon her shoulder. This was Eliezer’s cue. He approaches Rivka asking for some water from her jug.

The Chumash describes Rivka’s graciousness. “Va’tomer, sheh’say adoni, And she said, drink my master, va’timaheir, she quickly lowered her water pitcher… Va’yorotz, she ran again back to the well to draw more water for the camels.” (Bereishis/ Genesis 24:18-20).

Eliezer wasn’t simply looking for a girl who would give him a drink. He was looking for someone whose natural response to another person’s needs reflected the very character traits of Avrohom Avinu.

Rivka didn’t just perform an act of kindness. She performed it with enthusiasm, without hesitation, and beyond what was requested.

That is the distinction between doing a kindness and living a life of chesed. In last week’s parsha, we find an amazing similarity when Avrohom served the three angels who appeared in the guise of ordinary men. The parsha uses the same terms “va’yimaheir, and he hurried to the tent”, “v’el habokor rotz, and he ran to the cattle”, and once again, “va’yemaheir”, and he hurried to prepare the meat. (Bereishis 18:6-7) Eliezer saw in Rivka the midos, the character traits that Avrohom lived by. Traits that would make her the perfect wife for Yitzchok. She lived a life of chesed, and like Avrohom, performed acts of kindness with alacrity and enthusiasm.

Rivka not only provided water, but welcomed Eliezer to her parents’ home, offering him and his camels a place to rest and refresh. Rivka had a lev tov, a good heart. A life of being there for others, going out of her way to make people comfortable.

Eliezer prayed not only at the onset, when he needed HaShem’s help, but once he realized that his mission had succeeded, he also offered a prayer of gratitude. “Blessed be the G-d of my master Avrohom, who did not forsake His kindness and His truth…” (Bereishis/24:27) We learn in Pirkei Avos about Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakai asking his students, “What is the good path in life to which a man should cling?”

Different students, different responses. One student, Rabbi Elazar ben Arach answered, “Lev tov – a good heart.” To which his teacher readily agreed. (Pirkei Avos 2:13) A good heart is important. Not only in marriage, but in all aspects of life. With family, work colleagues, friends and neighbors. A lev tov makes us sensitive to the needs of others, inspires us to reach out, and encourages us to go beyond what is expected. Perhaps this is the greatest lesson of the first shidduch in the Torah. Avrohom knew that the most important quality in the future wife of Yitzchok was not wealth, beauty or prestige, but a heart filled with kindness.

With a good heart, we can help each other overcome challenges. With kindness, we can achieve great things.

By Rabbi YY Jacobson

Two Ways to Live

Attack life, it’s going to kill you anyway.—Steven Coallier There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.—Albert Einstein An Enigmatic Verse A moving verse in this week’s parsha, Chayei Sarah, reads: “Avraham was old, he came in days, and G-d had blessed Avraham with everything.”

What is the meaning of this expression that Avraham “came in days?” Most biblical commentators explain it simply that Avraham had advanced in years; that he had grown much older.

Yet, if this is accurate, the verse is redundant. Once the Torah stated “Avraham was old,” there is no need to say that he was advanced in years. This would be inconsistent with the meticulousness of every verse, word, and even letter of the Torah.

How Many Times Do You Get Old?

Another difficulty arises when carefully studying Bereishit. Several chapters earlier, the Torah states that “Avraham and Sarah were old, they came in days; the manner of women had ceased to be with Sarah.” This verse describes Avraham and Sarah at the ages of 99 and 89, respectively, one year before their son Yitzchak was born. Their description as two elderly people seems fair. Our verse however—“Avraham was old, he came in days”—describes Avraham living 41 years later, after the death of his wife Sarah at the age of 127 and right before the marriage of his son Yitzchak, who married at the age of 40. Why would the Torah suddenly now state that “Avraham was old” again, 41 years later?

If you write about an 80-year-old man that “he is old,” would you write again 40 years later, “he is an old man?” Isn’t it quite obvious that he is still an old man? Would anyone think that he has become younger over these forty years?

And in the earlier verse as well, the Torah uses this redundant expression: “Avraham and Sarah were old, they came in days.” Once you have stated that Avraham and Sarah were old, you have already stated that they had advanced in their years?

Allowing Life to Touch You

The Hebrew expression used for “they came in days” is “baeim bayamim.” A literal translation would read, “They came into the days.”

Perhaps, then, we ought to interpret the words “they came into the days” in the simplest way possible: that Avraham and Sarah entered inside their days, allowing the days and its experiences to encompass them completely and touch the texture of their very being.

Avraham and Sarah lived an immersive life; they were fully immersed in each and every day.

Many of us are frightened to enter into our lives and live it fully, with the complete presence of mind, heart, and body, with unbridled passion and zest. We do not trust life enough to let it possess us. Perhaps part of our limbic brain is frozen and we cannot fully show up to life, it is too scary. Life holds too much pain, too many disappointments, so much shame, anger, and guilt; we would rather let our days pass by us from a distance so that we remain safe. We observe our days moving along, but we remain emotionally distant; are too timid to become one with them, to be fully engulfed by them.

Yet, Avraham and Sarah, the Torah says, personified a different model: “They came into the days;” they fully entered into their days. They allowed themselves to be wrapped by life. All their days were explored, actualized, and lived to the fullest. They valued, celebrated, and maximized every day.

Avraham and Sarah had been through quite a life together! They enjoyed tremendous blessings and victories, as well as profound pain and disappointment. Sarah and Avraham waited for most of their life for a child; Sarah was abducted twice by powerful monarchs; Avraham and Sarah journeyed alone on a journey that required them to stand up to a Pagan world. Yet throughout all of it — the positive as well as the challenging, the joyous as well as the painful — they allowed themselves to experience the pulse of life in its totality. They were present throughout and did not retreat into the cocoon of safe detachment. They “entered” inside each day and stared at its existence with an unwavering gaze and mighty courage.

Sure, it is safer to enter into your life halfway, to create a border between yourself and your experiences. No sorrow, no pain, no tears. But that may come at the cost of LIVING, and deprives you of a life filled with exuberance, laughter, passion, and wholesomeness. Avraham and Sarah, in a sense, retained the innocence of children. Did you ever observe children? They dislike fragmentation. They enter into something completely — with their entire sense of curiosity, trust, presence of mind, and emotional vulnerability.

It has been said that there are three types of people: Those who make things happen; those who watch things happen, and those whom you have to tell that something happened… People who live an immersive life never experience two similar days. Every day brings up a new awareness, a new challenge, a new opportunity, a new task, a new layer of reality. When I show up fully to live, every day is a new journey, a calling to take on the unique mission of this day, which may be very different than my task yesterday.

When Life Became Rough

Now we will understand why the Torah finds it necessary to repeat the exact same description about the first Jew: “Avraham was old, he came into the days.”

No doubt during this period of time, Avraham experienced the most profound and most turbulent moments of his entire life. After waiting for decades, he was finally blessed with a child, Yitzchak, who would carry on the monotheistic revolution he had begun.

And during this period, Avraham watched himself about to slaughter his son. It was only at the last moment that G-d told him to take his hands off the lad and let him live. What does such an event do to a father? Finally, during these years, the person who was there with him through thick and thin, his life’s partner, passed away. Sarah has walked along with Avraham for close to a century, their lives merged into perfect oneness. Her death must have been an unimaginable loss to Avraham. One would think that at this point Avraham would have developed some detachment skills to protect himself against any further pain and anguish. We often observe how after years of experiencing life with all its pressures and struggles, people develop a certain indifference and apathy. They have simply been through too much to subject themselves to the vulnerable vicissitudes of life. They detach.

So the Torah informs us that Avraham’s courage lasted him till the very end. “Avraham was old, he came into the days.” Even as a widower, Avraham did not detach from life. He breathed it in, with all of its majesty, drama, joy, and pain. On the lines of his face and the streaks of his soul, he carried a reminder of every encounter, every relationship, and every experience. That is what we call truly living: acquiring the courage to become one with life, to feel it, love it, and possess it.

Avraham believed that cynicism and detachment are the easy retreats of a small mind. Till his last breath, the founder of the Jewish faith awoke each morning and said, “I will live my life today to the fullest; my heart and soul will immerse themselves fully in the journey of life today and I will maximize the unique mission give to me for this day.”

When you live in such a fashion, as the verse, continues, you are blessed. As Abraham Lincoln put it: “In the end, it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.” Or as Grace Hansen said: “Don’t be afraid your life will end; be afraid that it will never begin.”

INGREDIENTS:

Filling
2 pounds ground beef
1 cup basmati rice
Season with salt, pepper
and garlic
2 tablespoons tomato
paste
2 tablespoons harissa
1/4 cup pomegranate
molasses
Mix all together until
well combined.

Sauce
2 tablespoons tomato
paste
2 tablespoons harissa
1/4 cup pomegranate
molasses
Season with salt,
pepper, and garlic
2 cups of reserved
onion water

DIRECTIONS:

5-7 medium onions, peeled and
slit halfway.
Boil your onions for 15-20 minutes
until soft. Reserve onion water.
Fill onions with lling and put in
baking dish. Whisk sauce
ingredients to combine. Cover
your onions with the sauce
Cover with wet parchment paper
and lid.
Bake for 2 hours at 350 degrees.

By Rabbi Efrem Goldberg

In 2012, a young woman named Alexa, struggling with drug addiction, stood before a federal judge in New York awaiting sentencing. The judge sentenced her to 18 months in prison. He told her it was one of the hardest sentencing decisions he had ever made but also told her something she would never forget: He said he believed in her. He believed she could overcome her struggles and had a bright future ahead of her.

Think about that. He was sending her to prison while telling her he believed in her future. He was holding her accountable without giving up on her. Alexa served her sentence, turned her life around, earned a master’s degree, secured a respected position in New York State government, and built a family.

Last week, when the judge passed away, she wrote a remarkable tribute: “He changed my life. My time in prison is exactly what I needed and I was indeed able to have a bright future.” She added, “I will never forget the impact he made on my life and the tough love that was shown to me.” The judge was the Honorable Alvin K. Hellerstein, my brother-in-law’s father, who passed away at 92. Al, as I knew him, served for nearly three decades as a federal judge in the Southern District of New York. He presided over many consequential cases, including high-profile litigation arising from September 11 and the recent criminal case against Venezuelan leader Nicolas Maduro. He was a respected legal mind, accomplished jurist, and was well-regarded among his peers and the lawyers who went before him. But the lesson I want to share isn’t about his distinguished career. It is about something he understood that we all need to learn.

Sometimes love means saying no.

Sometimes caring means holding someone accountable. And sometimes believing in someone means refusing to give up on what they can become.

I had the privilege of knowing Al for many years as family. He was kind, thoughtful, and generous with compliments. He made people feel appreciated but was also honest with constructive feedback. His praise meant something because you knew his honesty was genuine. Above all, Al loved his family. For all his professional accomplishments, they were at the center of his life.

A few years ago, we interviewed Al on our Behind the Bima podcast. Asked how his Jewish values influenced his work, he explained that when sentencing someone, he reminded himself that the defendant was a person created by G-d, just as he was. That person may have done something terrible, but that didn’t make him a terrible person. In his words, “I’m punishing him not as a bad person—because he’s not—but for the bad things he does.”

What a powerful distinction. We can reject someone’s behavior without rejecting the person, be disappointed in what someone has done without losing faith in who they can become. Al shared that he intentionally scheduled sentencing hearings on Friday mornings so he would have Shabbos to reflect on them. Had he been too severe? Too lenient? Too compassionate? He admitted he never felt completely confident he had gotten the punishment exactly right. Taking away someone’s freedom was an awesome responsibility, and it weighed heavily on him.

Displayed in his chambers were the words you shall justice ,Justice “ֶ,צֶֶדֶק ֶצֶֶדֶק ִּתְּרְֹּדּף pursue.” Al explained his favorite interpretation of the repetition. We don’t always know where justice is. We must pursue it, search for it, and never assume that having authority means automatically knowing what is right.

There is something meaningful about Al’s Hebrew name, Avraham. We associate Avraham Avinu with chesed, his open tent, welcoming strangers, caring for others. But his legacy wasn’t chesed alone. In Parshas Vayeira, Hashem explains why He chose Avraham: ִּכּי יְְַדַעְְִּתּוי- ְלְַמַַעַן אֲֲֶׁרש-ׁ יְְצֶַַּוּה ֶאֶת ּ-בָָּנָוי ְו ְֶאֶת- ֵּבּיתֹו אֲַַחֲרָָוי- ְו ְ ְמְׁשָׁוּר רֶּדְֶֶּך- ה׳ לַַעֲֲׂשֹות- צְְ ָדָקָָה ׁשְִׁמִוָּּפּט “For I have known him, because he will command his children and his household after him, that they shall keep the way of Hashem, to do righteousness and justice.” (Bereishis 18:19) Avraham understood what genuine love demands. The way of Hashem is tzedakah u’mishpat, kindness and justice together. Chesed without mishpat runs the risk of turning into enabling. Mishpat without chesed can become cruelty. We need both. Al understood that balance. He could praise someone while offering criticism, encourage someone while challenging them to improve, sentence Alexa to prison while telling her he believed in her.

This is a lesson for every parent, spouse, teacher, and friend. We too often confuse love with approval, compassion with accommodation, and kindness with giving people what they want. We fear that boundaries, consequences, or saying no will damage relationships. But sometimes protecting people from the consequences of their choices deprives them of the opportunity to grow.

The Gemara (Sotah 47a) teaches: ְׂשֹׂמֹאל should hand left The -דֹּחוָָה ְו ְיִָָמִין ְמְ ָקָרֶֶֶבֶת push away while the right hand draws close. The Kotzker Rebbe offers a beautiful insight. Imagine pushing someone’s shoulder with your left hand while pulling them toward you with your right. What happens? You turn the person around. That is the goal. Not to reject someone, but to redirect them. Not to push them away, but to help them change direction. Discipline isn’t punishment for its own sake. It is an expression of our belief in someone’s ability to grow.

And notice it is the weaker left hand that pushes away while the stronger right hand draws close. Our love must be stronger than our discipline, our encouragement greater than our criticism. Tough love is never an excuse for anger, harshness, or control. Not every mistake requires punishment. But genuine love includes expectations, boundaries, and accountability, always accompanied by the reassurance that we believe in the person.

And there is another relationship where this lesson is especially important. Our relationship with Hashem, Who is the ultimate Judge, but also our Av HaRachaman, our compassionate Father. Being on the receiving end of His love doesn’t mean He always gives us what we want or spares us disappointment and pain. Sometimes we find ourselves in circumstances that feel like a prison, trapped by challenges we didn’t choose and cannot seem to escape. We daven for the doors to open, but sometimes they remain closed. We wonder, if Hashem loves me, why am I here? Why doesn’t He let me out? Sometimes love means giving us what we need, not what we want. Sometimes the doors that close and the limitations we experience may be part of a greater plan for our growth, even when we cannot see it. Of course, we cannot pretend to know why Hashem brings particular challenges into our lives. We should never tell someone suffering that their pain is deserved or that we know why it is happening. But emunah means believing that even when we cannot understand His judgment, we can trust His love.

That is what moves me most about Alexa’s story. Al didn’t simply reach the appropriate legal determination, sentence her, and walk away. He made sure to tell her he believed in her, that she could overcome her struggles, that she had a future. Perhaps that is what we need to hear from the ultimate Judge as well. When life doesn’t go as planned, when we feel stuck or overwhelmed, we must remember that the Judge who has placed us there is also our Father. He hasn’t abandoned us, stopped loving us, or given up on us. is great , ַרַּבָּה אֱֱוּמָנָתֶֶָך say we morning Every Your faithfulness. The Chassidic masters offer a beautiful interpretation. While expressing daily gratitude for the gift of our life is certainly a reflection of our own emunah, the word we use when addressing Hashem is נומאתיך” – your faith.” Not only do we have emunah in Hashem, but Hashem has emunah in us. He returns our neshama each morning because He believes in our potential and what we can still accomplish. Every morning, Hashem is telling us what Al told Alexa. I believe in you. You can overcome your struggles. You have a future. You are not defined by your mistakes or circumstances.

Alexa eventually recognized that what felt like the end of her future became the beginning of a new one. We aren’t always given that clarity in this world. Not every painful experience produces an outcome we can identify or appreciate. But Hashem’s love remains present even when His plan is hidden.

I am grateful to have known Al, learned from him, and been part of his extended family. May we learn from his example to practice tough love when needed, always making sure those we love know we believe in them.

And when we feel confined by life’s challenges, may we remember that the ultimate Judge is also our loving Father. His tough love is still love, and even when we struggle to believe in ourselves, He never stops believing in us.

Sometimes the Judge who says no is the very One who believes in us most.

By Rabbi Shay Tahan

Election fraud is hardly a new phenomenon.

Throughout history, people have sought to manipulate the outcome of elections through deception, bribery, and other forms of dishonesty. Although modern elections involve systems and procedures that did not exist in earlier times, the underlying questions are far from new. The Torah and Chazal address situations involving dishonesty and manipulation that provide important principles for understanding the halachic implications of election fraud.

What is the halachic perspective on election fraud? Does bribery invalidate an election? Can a candidate who manipulates the voting process remain eligible for office? And if a fraudulent act does not change the outcome, does it still undermine the validity of the result? To answer these questions, we must examine the relevant sources in Chazal and the poskim.

The Chatam Sofer: Bribery in a Rabbinical Election

An instructive precedent appears in the responsa of the Chatam Sofer (Choshen Mishpat 160, cited in Pitchei Teshuvah, Choshen Mishpat 8:2), who addressed the election of a community rabbi. Four candidates were presented to the community, and the members voted to determine whom they would appoint. After one candidate was chosen, it became known that some members of the community had accepted bribes from the candidate’s relatives in exchange for voting for him. The Chatam Sofer ruled that if the bribery could be established through proper evidence, the election was invalid, even if the candidate had received enough untainted votes to win. He further ruled that if it was established that the candidate himself had participated in the bribery, he was disqualified from serving as a rabbi until he repented. The voters who accepted bribes were also disqualified from participating in that particular appointment, even if they returned the money, because their judgment had already been compromised.

When a Lottery Is Invalid

A related principle emerges from the laws of lotteries. The Shulchan Aruch (Choshen Mishpat 175:3) discusses two brothers who divided three fields: each took one, and they shared the third. Then a third brother appeared whom they had not known about. A lottery was cast, and his lot fell on the shared field, so each brother seemingly kept exactly what he had. Nevertheless, either brother may cancel the entire division and redraw all three fields, since the original division was made in error, without the third brother.

The Chavot Yair (Responsa, no. 61) addresses a case in which a group of twelve individuals participated in a lottery for a valuable silver goblet. Their names were written on slips of paper, and a child drew one to determine the winner. After the drawing, it was discovered that one participant’s name had been omitted. The winner offered to compensate the excluded participant, but the Chavot Yair ruled that the lottery was invalid. Compensation could not cure the defect in the original procedure.

The Chavot Yair takes this principle further. He discusses a case in which one participant’s placed his name twice in the drawing, thereby increasing that person’s chances of winning. Even though the person whose name appeared twice did not win, the Chavot Yair ruled that the lottery was invalid. The fact that the fraud did not benefit the person responsible for it did not rectify the defect.

Moreover, the ruling could not simply be set aside because the other participants were willing to accept the result. The integrity of the lottery itself had been compromised.

The Chavot Yair connects this principle to the pasuk, “The lot is cast into the lap, but its every decision is from Hashem” (Mishlei 16:33). A properly conducted lottery is understood to involve Divine Providence. When the procedure is manipulated, however, the result cannot simply be accepted as though the drawing had been conducted properly.

These cases raise an important question for elections: If a candidate deliberately manipulates the voting process, does it matter whether the manipulation actually changes the winner? The Chavot Yair’s ruling demonstrates that, in the context of a lottery, the integrity of the process itself is essential. Whether the same conclusion applies to a particular election requires further halachic analysis, but the principle provides an important starting point.

Cheating in the Beit Hamikdash

Attempts to manipulate a lottery are not a new phenomenon. Remarkably, even in the Beit Hamikdash, where the Kohanim performed the sacred service of Hashem, the Sages established safeguards against cheating.

The Mishnah (Yoma 22a) relates that originally, any Kohen who wished to perform the terumat hadeshen, the removal of the ashes from the Mizbe’ach, could do so. When many wished to perform it, they would race up the ramp, and whoever reached the top first won. Once, two Kohanim were running neck and neck, and one pushed the other, who fell and broke his leg. The Sages then instituted that the terumat hadeshen be assigned only by lottery.

In this lottery, the Kohanim stood in a circle and each extended a finger. The appointed Kohen chose a number and counted the fingers, and the Kohen at whose finger the count ended was chosen. The Mishnah states that a Kohen could extend one finger or two, but not his thumb. The Gemara explains that this rule was a safeguard against cheaters.

Even in the Beit Hamikdash, the sanctity of the service did not eliminate the possibility of dishonesty; it made the need for safeguards all the more important.

Conclusion

These sources demonstrate that halacha places great importance on the integrity of the process by which a winner is selected. Bribery, deliberate manipulation, and procedural defects cannot simply be dismissed because a winner has been declared or because the misconduct did not change the result. At the same time, the Chatam Sofer teaches that such claims must be established by valid testimony; rumor or suspicion alone does not overturn a result. The precise halachic consequences depend on the circumstances and the governing rules, but the underlying principle is clear: an election must be conducted honestly and properly for its outcome to command legitimacy.

By Rabbi Reuven and Shira Boshnack

Dear Rabbi and Shira, I’m hoping you can help me. I have been friends with this guy for the past few years. We get along well and I have strong feelings for him. The problem is that though he “adores” me as a friend, he just doesn’t see our relationship as anything more than a friendship. I see real potential but he won’t give “us” a chance. Do I have a chance? Is there something I can do to convince him? If not, how do I let go and get over him? I’ve tried when he originally rejected me the but it’s hopeless. -Still Hopeful in Brooklyn

Dear Still Hopeful.

It’s time to let go. He is not in-terested in being your boyfriend, just your friend. While we are big proponents of “you never know;” if he isn’t interested, then very little is going to change his mindset. Maybe, at a later point in your dating lives, if the both of you are still available, then you can revisit it. For the time being it looks like this door is closed. We know you were hoping for a different outcome. Sadly, you cannot control the way other people feel about you. The only variable you can control is to change your reactions and ac-tion plan. You can stay chained to this one-sided relationship or set yourself free for a better one.

We think it is probably best for you to end this friendship. You are confusing friendship with a possible marriage. You think this could be the beginning of a life-long relationship; however, he doesn’t see you as anything more than a friend. As long as you re-main in this friendship, you will find yourself confused between the two. You might feel afraid to end this relationship for fear of losing your “chance.” Upsetting the status quo is scary. Leaving what you’re used to and com-fortable will be uncomfortable. However, you cannot continue the relationship this way. There will be times that you’ll feel sad and lonely that this friendship has ended. You’ll doubt that you made the right decision. Don’t let that fear hold you back. When you are upset, try to bring yourself into the present moment. The present is where life happens. The present is the key to your future. Begin speaking with shad chanim or accepting matches on the platform of your choice. Once the world goes back to normal more, consider going out to some singles events. The first steps might be the hard-est but at this point it’s time to shut the door with this boy and open the next door to new op-portunities. You are the one who has the key to unlock your fu-ture.

We wish you hatzlacha in open-ing the door to your new life,

Rabbi Reuven and Shira Boshnack.

By Rabbi Moishe Dovid Lebovits

When Hashem allows us to experience pain or discomfort, it is not simply a punishment. Rather, Hashem wants to give us goodness, and tefillah helps prepare us to receive it. When we turn to Him sincerely, from the depths of our hearts, we strengthen our relationship with Him and become more receptive to the good He wishes to give us.

The Positivity of Pain

The Midrash teaches that Pharaoh brought Klal Yisrael closer to Hashem. When the Egyptians pursued them, the people were frightened, raised their eyes heavenward, did teshuvah, and prayed. Their response was more beneficial than many fasts and prayers. Hashem wanted to hear their voices, just as He had heard them when they suffered in Mitzrayim. The Midrash compares this to a king who found a princess threatened by bandits. She cried out for help, and the king rescued her. Later, when he wished to marry her, she was unwilling. He allowed the bandits to threaten her again so she would call to him, and then he told her that hearing her voice was what he had desired. Similarly, after Klal Yisrael were safe, Hashem wanted to hear their voices again, and Pharaoh’s pursuit brought them to call out to Him.

Suffering can therefore serve as a message inviting us to come closer to Hashem. It is mistaken to think that without pain there would be no need to daven. The opposite lesson is that we should build a strong relationship with Hashem and turn to Him consistently, rather than waiting until a crisis forces us to do so. The chapter also acknowledges that suffering can have other reasons; its focus here is the role pain can play in bringing a person closer to Hashem.

The Right Tools

The Gemara teaches that a person should pray so that he does not become sick. Once he is sick, he should continue to daven and ask Hashem to remove the illness. Some commentators explain that a person who develops the habit of tefillah before becoming ill already has the tools he needs when a difficult time arrives. He knows how to turn to Hashem and pray with sincerity. Someone who has not built that habit may find it much harder to daven when suffering comes and may have to rely on his merits. This teaches the importance of preparing spiritually before a challenge. Tefillah should not be reserved only for moments of fear or need. It is a regular way of maintaining our connection with Hashem, so that when life becomes difficult, we have a relationship to lean on.

All for the Good

The Gemara says that everything Hashem does is for the good. If suffering is ultimately for our good, why should we pray for it to end? The chapter explains that we are still meant to ask Hashem to remove pain. Through tefillah, we can sweeten the judgment that brought the suffering and prepare ourselves to receive the goodness Hashem wishes to give us.

The same idea applies to parnassah. We may wonder why we should pray for livelihood if Hashem has already determined what we will have. Tefillah is not merely a request for a particular result. It helps us grow spiritually and recognize that everything comes from Hashem. As we learn to trust Him, we become more able to receive His goodness.

Pain can also remind us that we are not fully in control. When we turn to Hashem during illness or difficulty, we recognize that our healing and well-being ultimately depend on Him. The purpose is not revenge or rejection, chas v’shalom, but an opportunity to correct the mistaken belief that we control everything and can do whatever we wish.

A serious challenge can become an opportunity to grow and develop greater awareness of Hashem.

Finding the Joy

Throughout Sefer Tehillim, Dovid Hamelech describes pain as well as joy. He was able to find joy even while facing hardship. A person who recognizes complete dependence on Hashem can experience a deeper sense of happiness because he knows that everything comes from Him. By contrast, someone who believes that everything depends on human effort alone may live with constant anxiety and disappointment. Sometimes a person says, “I am in pain, so I cannot daven.” Yet when life was comfortable, he may not have felt a need to pray because everything seemed to be going well. When difficulty arrives, he may feel too distressed to daven. If we do not turn to Hashem when things are good or when things are hard, when will we develop that connection? The chapter challenges us to be honest with ourselves and not allow either comfort or suffering to keep us from tefillah.

The Lekutei Amarim teaches that Klal Yisrael experiences pain and discomfort because we do not daven enough for the pain to be removed. It is not enough to pray three times a day; we should also speak to Hashem throughout the day. As we learn to rely on Him, as Dovid Hamelech did, and recognize that our experiences come from Him, we can find joy even in hardship. This does not mean that pain is easy, but that it can become an opening to a closer relationship with Hashem.

Davening before Sickness

A story illustrates why people should turn to Hashem before a crisis. A man stood on his roof throwing stones at passersby, and the police came to find out why. He explained that the door to his house was stuck and he could not get out. First, he had thrown gold and silver from the window, hoping people would look up and help him. Instead, they took the valuables and walked away. He then shouted, but no one listened. Finally, he threw stones because he knew that would make people look up.

The lesson is that Hashem gives us goodness and wants us to become close to Him, but we can become accustomed to our comfortable lives and forget that connection. Challenges can act as wake-up calls, reminding us to return to Him through tefillah. If we recognized our need for Hashem before experiencing pain, we would not need such reminders. It is unfortunate when people wait until someone becomes sick before organizing Tehillim gatherings or praying with urgency. The Gemara teaches that a person should daven before pain arrives. When life is stable and a person has a regular job and few pressing needs, it can be easy to forget to reach out to Hashem. Yet praying when things are going well is important because it acknowledges that our blessings come from Him.

When someone only begins to pray after becoming ill, it may seem that he is praying solely because of the illness. Regular tefillah shows that our relationship with Hashem is not dependent on an emergency. It also builds the spiritual strength needed to pray during difficult times.

Thanking Hashem

Everyone faces challenges. Sometimes the difficulty is physical pain; at other times, it may be the struggle to concentrate during a long davening or the irritation that comes with it. The chapter suggests that even this kind of discomfort can become an opportunity for growth. When we focus only on our suffering, we risk becoming resentful or feeling rejected by Hashem. If we do not thank Him during a painful situation, the difficulty may lead us to feel more distant from Him, chas v’shalom. Yet the purpose of the challenge is to connect us to Hashem, not to separate us from Him. We should use the opportunity to thank Him, recognize the good in our lives, and ask that the pain bring us closer to Him rather than farther away.

We all hope for a life filled with goodness, but we should not assume that tefillah is unnecessary when things are going well. A person who says, “Why should I daven when I have nothing to ask for?” misses an essential purpose of prayer. Tefillah helps us recognize Hashem’s kindness and builds the ability to turn to Him when life becomes difficult.

The Anshei Knesses Hagedolah established the wording of tefillah in the plural because we pray not only for our own needs, but for all of Klal Yisrael. Even when our own lives are going well, we can daven for others and strengthen our connection with Hashem. The goal is to make tefillah a constant part of life: in times of comfort, in moments of pain, and in every ordinary day between them.

By Rabbi Gil Student

Matchmaking is an act of kindness on multiple levels, creating families and relieving individuals and their families of the stress of finding a match. Traditionally, families pay a successful shadchan, matchmaker, a fee known as shadchanus. What happens when an artificial intelligence app makes the suggestion? Imagine that an AI matchmaking service evaluates thousands of profiles, identifies a compatible couple and recommends that they meet. The couple dates and eventually marries. Is the owner of the app entitled to shadchanus, even though he never considered this particular couple and may not even know who they are? Or is no payment required beyond any minimal app fees because no human being actually performed the matchmaking?

I. Paying the Matchmaker

Rav Moshe Isserles (Rema; 16th cen., Poland) rules that a matchmaker has the legal status of a broker, deserving of payment (Shulchan Arukh, Choshen Mishpat 185:10). His ruling draws on earlier authorities, particularly Rav Yisrael Isserlein (15th cen., Austria), who discusses when a matchmaking fee becomes payable, when the parties agreed to the match or after the wedding (Terumas HaDeshen, Pesakim U-Kesavim, no. 85). The prevalence of this practice to pay a shadchan is reflected in the frequency of disputes over the details throughout the generations.

The obligation to pay shadchanus generally exists even without an explicit agreement. Rema (Choshen Mishpat 264:4) rules that if someone provides you with a beneficial service, he can demand compensation even if you never requested the service. You cannot simply claim that the work was performed voluntarily. Therefore, a person who independently proposes a successful match is generally entitled to payment, even without a prior agreement. Additionally, Rema, following Maharam of Rothenburg, rules that even when someone promises a matchmaker an exceptionally large sum, he generally need pay only the appropriate fee (Choshen Mishpat 264:7). The customary fee generally determines how much the matchmaker receives.

Rav Yosef Almosnino (17th cen., Serbia) argues that a shadchan is paid for a successful match, regardless of how much or how little he worked. A matchmaker might spend days working without achieving anything, while another might succeed with a few words. Even a matchmaker who performs almost no work can receive the full customary fee when his suggestion produces a successful result (Responsa Edus Bi-Yehosef, vol. 2, no. 35). Based on what we have seen so far, it would seem that a couple is required to pay shadchanus to the owner of an AI matchmaking app. The owner developed the service and makes it available to users. If the software produces a successful match, the absence of personal effort on that particular suggestion would not necessarily eliminate the right to payment. After all, even a human matchmaker can earn his entire fee for a suggestion that takes only a moment, if that is all it takes to make a match. What if other people need to serve as intermediaries for the dating process?

II. Who Made the Match?

Rav Avraham Eisenstadt (19th cen., Russia) quotes an interesting responsum from Rav Yair Chaim Bacharach (17th cen., Germany). A matchmaker wrote to Reuven suggesting a match for Reuven’s widowed sister-in-law. Reuven communicated with the widow and completed the arrangement. He then claimed that he, too, deserved shadchanus, since the original matchmaker had never approached the widow directly. Rav Bacharach agrees that Reuven has a valid claim and is entitled to a portion of the shadchanus. More than one matchmaker can be involved in a match and, depending on the situation, each may be entitled to compensation (Pischei Teshuvah, Even Ha-Ezer 50:16, quoting Chut HaShani, no. 3).

Identifying the person entitled to shadchanus can require examining who actually communicated the suggestion and in what capacity. Rav Eisenstadt cites three opinions on how to divide the shadchanus money if multiple people are involved in the matchmaking. Some say only the final matchmaker, the one who brings the match to fruition, receives the payment. Others believe they split the money evenly. The common practice, though, is to give the initiator one-third of the shadchanus (Pischei Teshuvah, Choshen Mishpat 185:3; Rav Simcha Yonah Klein, Piskei Ha-Mishpat 185:3).

Rav Betzalel Stern (20th cen., Israel) discusses the definition of an initiator. He concludes that someone who suggests a match that would not have otherwise been considered is the initiator even if he did no work beyond that (Be-Tzel Ha-Chokhmah, vol. 3, no. 10). This suggests a distinction between two kinds of matchmaking apps. A website that merely provides a searchable directory allows users to discover one another. Its owner supplies information but does not necessarily perform matchmaking. An AI service that evaluates compatibility and actively proposes specific matches performs something much closer to the work of a traditional shadchan.

III. Does the Owner Get Paid?

It would seem that shadchanus is owed to the app when its matchmaking service successfully introduces two people. Since the traditional fee reflects the benefit provided and can be earned with minimal effort, and even the suggestion alone constitutes matchmaking, there is reason to treat the service as compensable. The computer merely changes how the work is accomplished. And if human matchmakers subsequently help the couple through the dating process, the app should still receive one-third of the shadchanus.

But the app is not an entity, even if it runs on AI. It is a tool, a creation of programmers working for a company or an individual. Much like the money earned by a coin-operated laundromat belongs to the laundromat’s owner, or a vending machine’s earnings belong to its owner, I suggest that an app’s earnings belong to its owner. If this is true, the owner of a matchmaking app, whether a company or an individual, deserves shadchanus.

However, the app’s fee structure is important. Rav Bacharach (loc. cit.) rules that someone who explicitly offers to arrange a match for free cannot subsequently demand payment. If the app advertises its services as free, then the app owner should not be paid shadchanus. And if the app charges a fee for its use and does not explicitly add shadchanus if the match is successful, then the app owner has implicitly agreed to forgo shadchanus. By omitting shadchanus from its stated fees, the app owner has implicitly waived that payment. Shadchanus compensates a matchmaker for providing a valuable service, even when the effort involved is minimal. An AI app that actively proposes a successful match appears to provide such a service. Therefore, I suggest that the app’s owner should be paid for the service, assuming he has not waived payment or established a different fee structure. This is a tentative application of traditional halachic principles to a new technology, and practical questions should be brought to a competent halachic authority.

By Rabbi Joey Haber

Avraham Avinu sent his trusted servant, Eliezer, to his homeland, where was born – Aram Naharayim – in order to find there a suitable match for Yitzchak. The Torah tells that Eliezer went to Aram Naharayim with Kol Tov Adonuv B’yado – “all his master’s goodness in his hand” (24:10). The commentaries explain this to mean that Eliezer took with him the official document in which Avraham promised to bequeath his enormous fortune to Yitzchak. Eliezer took this in order to convince the girl and her family to agree to the match.

However, the Shelah Ha’kadosh takes note of a slight but important nuance in this pasuk. The word tov is punctuated not as it usually is, with the dot on top of the vov, such that it would be pronounced tov, but rather with the dot in the middle of the letter vov, resulting in the pronunciation tuv. This raises the question as to the difference between the Hebrew words tov and tuv, and why this might matter in the context of Eliezer’s mission to find a wife for Yitzchak. The Shelah Ha’kadosh explains the difference. The word tov refers to goodness that can be easily seen, that is clear, that is unmistakable. Avraham’s legacy, which he passed onto Yitzchak – and to all of us – includes many wonderful blessings and precious gifts that are very clear to us. There is no mistaking the great blessing of Shabbat, of family, of Torah learning, and of the many joys that we are privileged to experience by being part of the Jewish Nation.

But Avraham also bequeathed to us tuv – a hidden goodness, blessings which are more difficult for people on the outside to perceive and understand.

This hidden goodness is the faith that accompanies a person during times of hardship. When an heir of Avraham Avinu is struggling, or in pain, people see the hardship – but they probably don’t see the faith and hope that is sustaining that person and helping him carry on. This gift of emunah, the knowledge that Hashem is with us even in life’s most difficult moments, is incredible. It provides a person with the “wings” he needs to rise and soar when life might otherwise pull him down and shatter his spirit.

Before Hashem brought the seventh plague upon Egypt, He commanded Moshe to come before Pharaoh and warn about the plague – Bo El Pharoah. Literally, this means “Come to Pharaoh.” Instead of saying “Go to Pharaoh,” Hashem said “Come to Pharaoh” – emphasizing that He would be there, too. Moshe knew that Pharaoh would be furious with him after six plagues had already befallen the country. For good reason, Moshe felt hesitant and uneasy about confronting Pharaoh yet again. And so Hashem assured him that he wasn’t going alone, that He would be there holding his hand.

Whenever we’re going through a hard time, whenever we’re dealing with a very difficult problem – either big or small – feeling Hashem holding our hand can make all the difference in the world. There is nothing like the feeling of knowing that we’re not dealing with this alone, that Hashem is helping is through this situation, every step of the way. This is the tuv – the precious gift – that Avraham Avinu bequeathed to each and every one of us.

By Rabbi Yissocher Frand

Avraham Avinu was the archetypical “gomel chessed” (benefactor of kindness).

A Medrash in Parshas Noach comments on the pasuk (Mishlei 21:21) “One who pursues righteousness and kindness (Tzedaka v’Chessed) will find life, righteousness, and honor (Chaim, Tzedakah, v’Kavod).” The Medrash interprets: The one who pursues Tzedaka refers to Avraham, as it is written, “…He observes the way of Hashem to do Tzedaka…” (Bereshis 18:19). And who is considered the Ba’al Chessed? Again, it is Avraham who did Chessed to Sora (by burying her). The conclusion of the pasuk in Mishlei thus also refers to Avraham: He is going to live a long life (he lived for 175 years); and he found Tzedakah and Kavod. The Medrash comments that Hashem said, “I am one who bestows kindness. You, Avraham, have taken over my profession. Therefore, come and wear my uniform – as it is written, “And Avraham was old, coming in days, and Hashem blessed Avraham with all.” (Bereshis 24:1) Apparently, the Medrash is saying that the uniform of the Ribono shel Olam is Ziknah (aged appearance).

And where, according to the Medrash, did Avraham demonstrate his great Chessed? It was through the burial of Sora. This Medrash is unfathomable! This is the example of the great attribute of kindness of Avraham Avinu? What kind of lowlife would not see to the appropriate burial of his wife upon her passing? Any decent human being would do no less. There are so many examples and Medrashim that could have been cited to demonstrate Avraham’s attribute of Chessed! Consider the great hospitality he provided for the three visitors that came in the heat of the day after he had just undergone Bris Milahat an advanced age. What is the interpretation of this Medrash?

I saw in the sefer Darash Mordechai that the Torah is trying to teach us a very important lesson that is unfortunately lost on many people: There are people in society who are the nicest people in the world. They would give you the shirt off their back. They do this for everyone else, except for their own family members. On the outside, they will fix your flat tire. They will do literally anything for you. But at home, they won’t take out the garbage. They won’t wash the dishes. They won’t vacuum when their wife is having a hard day. The Torah is saying that even though we all know that Avraham Avinu was a great Baal Chessed, what really counts to Hashem more than anything else is how he treated his wife. It is the old maxim—charity begins at home.

Many years ago, I mentioned the words of Rav Chaim Vital, but they are worth repeating: There are people who do Chessed with all other types of people, however they do not do favors for their wives and family members. They are confident that when they come up to Heaven, the Gates of Gan Eden will open wide for them. Woe is to them and woe is to their souls, for they do not know and they do not understand that all their acts of kindness are Hevel u’Reus Ruach (nothingness and evil spirit). First and foremost, a person must do Chessed with his wife and children. ‘Your own poor take precedence.’ Only after charity has begun at home do the good deeds that a person has done for others count.

That is why this Medrash portrays the prototype of the Chessed of Avraham Avinu as the effort he expended in properly burying his wife. This is the most important type of Chessed.

I once read about an incident during which a young man complained to Rav Schach: “No matter whether Shabbos starts at 4 PM or 8 PM, my wife is never ready. The house is always a turmoil those last twenty minutes before Shabbos. “She always is just barely able to bentch licht on time” he complained. Rav Schach responded, “Take the broom and sweep yourself! Help your wife!”

By Ephraim Fischbein

After more than seven years away, Odell Beckham Jr. is officially a New York Giant again.

The Giants announced their initial 53-man roster on Sunday, and Beckham earned his spot after an impressive training camp and preseason. The 33-year-old wide receiver originally joined the Giants as the No. 12 overall pick in the 2014 NFL Draft and quickly became one of the most exciting players in the NFL. In his first five seasons with Big Blue, Beckham caught 390 passes for 5,476 yards and 44 touchdowns in 59 games, earning three Pro Bowl selections and the 2014 NFL Offensive Rookie of the Year award.

After stops with the Browns, Rams, Ravens and Dolphins, Beckham is now back where his NFL story began. He missed the 2025 season and entered Giants training camp without any guarantee that he would make the team. He had to earn his way back onto the roster, catching seven passes for 76 yards during the preseason.

Now, Beckham gets another opportunity to wear Giants blue, this time under new head coach John Harbaugh. His return represents one of the most intriguing comeback stories heading into the 2026 NFL season.

What does it mean to you to officially be back on the Giants and know that you are going to start the season as a Giant again?

It means a lot. This is where everything started for me, so to have the opportunity to come back and finish this part of my career here is really special.

When you first signed with the Giants again, did you allow yourself to think about what it would be like to actually make the team and put on that Giants uniform again?

Absolutely. You always have a vision in your head of what you want to accomplish, but I also knew I had to come in here and earn it. Nothing was guaranteed to me. I had to work every day and prove that I still belong.

What are you most excited about about playing in New York again?

The fans, the energy and the atmosphere. New York is different. I remember what it felt like playing here earlier in my career, and I’m excited to experience that again.

How emotional was it for you to come back to the place where your NFL career began?

It was definitely emotional. There are a lot of memories here and a lot of people who were part of my journey. Coming back brought back a lot of those feelings, but now I’m focused on creating new memories.

You had to compete for a roster spot this summer. Did that give you an extra level of motivation?

For sure. I’ve always had a competitive drive. Having to earn my spot made me work even harder. I wasn’t looking for anything to be handed to me.

Where does that drive come from? After everything you’ve accomplished, what keeps you hungry?

I just love football. I love competing. I love proving things to myself. I don’t think you ever lose that competitive fire if that’s who you are.

What did you learn about yourself during the time away from football?

You learn to appreciate things differently. Sometimes you don’t realize how much you love something until you aren’t doing it anymore. It gave me a different perspective and made me appreciate every opportunity.

How much does it mean to you to be doing this at 33 years old?

It means a lot. I’ve been through a lot in this league. I’ve had great moments, difficult moments, injuries and everything in between. To still have the opportunity to play the game I love is something I don’t take for granted.

You are returning to a Giants team with a completely different group of players than when you were here before. What has that been like?

It’s been great. There are a lot of young players who are hungry and talented. I’m trying to come in, do my job and help however I can.

Have any of your new teammates said anything to you about growing up watching you play for the Giants?

I’ve heard some stories. It’s definitely funny sometimes hearing guys talk about watching me when they were younger. But now we’re teammates, and we’re all focused on winning.

How excited are you about playing for coach John Harbaugh?

Very excited. He’s a proven coach who has won at the highest level. He’s demanding, he’s detailed and he expects a lot from his players. That’s the kind of environment you want to be around.

What has impressed you most about Coach Harbaugh since you arrived?

His attention to detail and the way he approaches the game. You can tell how much football means to him. He brings a lot of energy, and he expects everyone to be prepared.

You’ve had some incredible moments in a Giants uniform. Is there one memory that stands out above the rest?

There are so many. My first game, my first touchdown, the fans, the catches, the relationships I built here. It’s hard to pick just one.

When you walk into the Giants facility now, does it feel like you’re coming home?

In a lot of ways, yes. Obviously, things have changed, but there are still certain feelings that come back when you’re here. It’s a special place for me.

What would you say to the Giants fans who are excited to see you back?

I would say thank you. The support has always meant a lot to me. I’m excited to get back out there in front of them and give them everything I have.

What are your personal goals for this season?

To help the team win. That’s really what it’s about. Whatever my role is, I want to make an impact and help us get where we want to go.

Do you feel like you still have something to prove?

I think everybody in this league has something to prove. I’m not worried about proving anything to people outside of this building. I want to prove to myself that I can continue to play at a high level and help this team.

What is the biggest difference between the Odell Beckham Jr. who entered the Giants as a rookie in 2014 and the player returning now?

Experience. I’ve lived a lot since then. I’ve been through a lot, and I see the game and life differently now. I’m older, I’m more experienced and I appreciate the opportunity in a different way.

When you look at the Giants today, do you believe this team can surprise people this season?

I believe in the guys in this locker room. We have talent, we have a new coaching staff and everybody is working. We just have to put it together and take it one day at a time. Finally, what does the phrase “Odell Beckham Jr. is a Giant again” mean to you? It means I’m home. I’m grateful for the opportunity, and I’m ready to make the most of it.

By Rabbi Eli Mansour

Toward the end of Parashat Vayera, we read the famous story of Akedat Yitzchak – where Avraham Avinu was commanded to offer his beloved son, Yitzchak, as a sacrifice upon the altar. At the last moment, as Avraham held the knife over Yitzchak, prepared to slaughter him in fulfillment of G-d’s command, an angel called out to Avraham and told him to desist, explaining that the command was merely a test of Avraham’s devotion to Hashem. The Zohar, in a fascinating passage, adds a remarkable component to this story – one which sheds light on one of the critical lessons that it teaches us.

When Yitzchak saw the knife about to descend upon his neck, the Zohar tells, he, in a sense, died. His soul departed. He was then given a new soul, and came back to life. Yitzchak was the first to recite the Beracha of “Mechayeh Ha’metim” – praising Hashem who restores life to the dead, and for this reason the second blessing of the Amida prayer, which corresponds to Yitzchak – the second of patriarchs – concludes with this Beracha. This replacement of Yitzchak’s soul laid the foundations of the emergence of the Jewish Nation. Yitzchak’s original soul was incapable of begetting children, but this new soul was. It turns out, then, that it was only because of Akedat Yitzchak that Yitzchak was able to produce offspring.

This gives us an entirely new perspective on the story of the Akeda, and its relevance to our lives.

When Avraham received the command to slaughter to Yitzchak, he did not understand how G-d could instruct him to do such a thing. After all, G-d had earlier told him, “Ki Be’Yitzchak Yikareh Lecha Zara” – that his line would continue through Yitzchak, and not through his first son, Yishmael (21:12). How, Avraham wondered, could G-d assure him that Yitzchak would be heir to his covenant with G-d, and the father of the nation destined to emerge from him, and then command offering him as a sacrifice before he had a child? Avraham did not understand. It seemed that offering Yitzchak on the altar marked the end of G-d’s promise, as it would prevent the birth of Am Yisrael.

In truth, however, fulfilling this command is precisely what enabled Yitzchak to have children. Had Avraham refused to obey, in the interest of assuring that Yitzchak would father the great nation that Hashem had promised – it would not have happened. It was specifically by fulfilling G-d’s command, which entailed doing something that appeared to sabotage the process of Am Yisrael’s emergence, that Am Yisrael in fact emerged.

The Midrash teaches that G-d implores us, “Obey Me, because nobody obeys Me and loses.” We never lose by following Hashem’s will, by observing the Mitzvot.

We often find ourselves tested the way Avraham was, as a Mitzva appears detrimental to us. Many times, we face a situation where doing the right thing seems to work against us and our best interests. Staying in bed instead of getting up for Minyan is more comfortable and convenient. Avoiding places where we know we should not be might cost us social points. Dressing, speaking and acting the way we know we should might invite ridicule. Adhering to the Torah’s strict ethical standards could cost us profitable opportunities. So often, the right thing to do seems to hurt us.

But even when this is true in the short-term, it is never true in the long-term. Whatever sacrifice we need to make here in the present to remain faithful to our Torah values is more than worth it, because Hashem guarantees us that in the long run, we only benefit from obeying His commands.

Rav Nachman of Breslav (1772-1810) taught that when a person feels himself becoming angry, he should imagine that Hashem is about to give him an enormous fortune – but he must earn it by restraining his anger. The person thinks that shouting and insulting is the right response to the situation – but by doing so, he will forfeit the inestimable future rewards that are promised to those who control their anger.

This can be applied to all the many religious challenges that we face on a day-to-day basis. When we feel tempted to compromise our principles, we should remember the lesson of Akedat Yishak – that the short-term benefits we sacrifice to obey Hashem are far surpassed by the long-term benefits of obedience.

By Chaya Sora Jungreis-Gertzulin

He had all the reason to say I can’t. Not now.

Another time. He was elderly. He was post-op. The sun was blazing. The heat was unbearable. Yet, despite it all, he was outside, looking for guests.

He was Avrohom Avinu. Avrohom lived a life of chesed, committed to the mitzva of hachnosas orchim. Instead of taking it easy by recuperating from his bris, he was out there, looking for guests, genuinely happy to welcome them in. Together with Sora, he was ready to prepare a sumptuous meal for his guests.

For Avrohom, the opportunity to perform a mitzva lifted him above his pain. As the Chumash tells us, “va’yar”, and he saw, “va’yorotz”, and he ran towards them. Avrohom was able to rise above his aches and pains, and not just walk – but run – because of his devotion to hachnosas orchim.

As a rov, my father, HaRav Meshulem Jungreis zt”l, had the z’chus to address many a chosson and kallah under the chuppah. He would give a bracha that just like the chuppah was open on all four sides, the home they build should be like the tent of Avrohom and Sora which was open for travelers coming from all four directions. A bracha to build a home of hachnosas orchim.

Avrohom and Sora experienced first-hand the challenges and difficulties of the nomadic traveler. They lived the life of lech-lecha, a life of journeys. They knew what it meant to walk upon burning hot sand, to be parched and in need of water, to feel weak and tired, and in need of a place to rest. They were the perfect couple to build an open home, an eishel.

An eishel, the “world’s first B&B”. Rashi in Sotah (10a) teaches that eishel, which is spelled in the Hebrew language as aleph-shin-lamed, can be understood as an acronym for aleph – achilah, food; shin – shtiyah, drink; and lamed – levoyah, escorting guests upon their departure. Others teach that the lamed represents linah – providing sleeping accommodations.

The Chumash tells us little about the specific conversations Avrohom had with his many guests. Yet we learn how powerfully he influenced others—not only through his words, but through his chesed. His open door policy, the comfortable surroundings and the generous food and drink. Avrohom would first take care of his guests’ needs, offer them a full meal, and only then use the opportunity to convey the message of believing in one G-d. As Rashi explains, Avrohom would say to his guests, “Do you think what you have eaten was mine? It was from the One Who spoke, and created the world.” (Rashi, Bereishis 21:33) In the opening pasuk of the parsha, the Torah tells us that Avrohom was sitting “pesach ha’ohel – at the opening of his tent” (Bereishis 18:1) Rashi comments that Avrohom was looking to see if there were any passersby that he could welcome into his tent. My mother a”h pointed out that in describing passersby, Rashi uses the unusual expression “oveir v’shov”, literally meaning crossing over and returning, instead of the more typical term “orchim”, meaning guests. Perhaps, my mother said, we can interpret these words in a homiletic sense to signifiy the profound influence that Avrohom and Sora had upon their visitors. Oveir – they left behind their pagan teachings. V’shov – they return to the Source, the belief in HaShem. The power of Avrohom and Sora’s hachnosas orchim. “Ess hanefesh asher osu b’Choron, – the souls they touched, the lives they changed in Charan. Avrohom is avinu – our father. A father who teaches by example. It is incumbent upon us, his children, to follow. To reach out and touch another soul. A simple act of kindness, a Shabbos invitation has the power to touch a soul. It doesn’t have to be a large group, it doesn’t have to be every Shabbos, it doesn’t have to be a multi-course gourmet meal, and one doesn’t have to deliver a long d’var Torah. All one has to do is open their home and heart. The end result is that both host and guest will have a more meaningful and inspiring Shabbos.

∞ ∞ ∞ In the book, The Rebbetzin, Chayale Gordon Deutscher recalls her first Shabbos experience: Chaya’le remembers: We packed up Friday afternoon and headed off to the wilds of Boro Park. There we were greeted by our hosts — Shmuel Dovid and Chaya Friedman. Slowly the night started to unfold. All the children were gathered together to meet us — from the youngest to the oldest still at home. After the men and boys left to shul, the women went into the dining room to light their candles and I stood in the hallway just watching them.

There was something about that candle-lighting that moved me. As they were lighting, I just started to cry. I turned my head so that they wouldn’t see and I looked the other way.

The men returned from shul and stood around the table singing “Shalom Aleichem.” Again, I felt these stirrings of emotion. Our host made Kiddush. I then watched all the children walk to their parents for a bracha, and I couldn’t help thinking, “This is astounding! Does anyone else know about this?” Everything that they did was something I’d never seen or witnessed, yet was touching me very deeply at the same time.

I had many questions, and the Friedman family was so eager to answer everything I asked.

That night, Chaya Friedman handed me a copy of the Rebbetzin’s book, The Committed Life. I started reading the book the minute we entered our room and I couldn’t put it down. ∞ ∞ ∞ And so began Chayale’s connection to the Rebbetzin, the Jungreis family, Hineni, and Torah Judaism. All from a Shabbos invitation. What moved Chayale was not an elaborate speech, not a debate, and not an intellectual discussion. It was the lived experience of a Shabbos home.

An invitation that grew and grew. Today, Chayale and her husband host their own Shabbos table. Chayale fills her table with Shabbos delicacies, and her husband, Shimshon, offers words of Torah inspiration. Like Avrohom and Sora before them, they are concerned about the needs of every guest. As Chayale’s first Shabbos changed her life, many newbies to Shabbos sit around her table, their lives changed forever.

When we daven the Shemoneh Esrei, we recall our three Patriarchs, Avrohom, Yitzchok, and Yaakov. Yet the first bracha concludes with Magen Avrohom—the Shield of Avrohom. Perhaps we can understand this as a reminder of the protective power of chesed. Avrohom’s shield was the love he extended to others, the kindness with which he opened his home and heart.

B’ezras Hashem, may the shield of Avrohom protect us, as individuals and as a nation.

By Rabbi YY Jacobson

A woman is leaving her multimillion-dollar mansion in Beverly Hills when a poor man approaches her and cries, “Oh ma’am, I haven’t eaten in three days.”

To which the woman responds: “I am so envious of you; I wish had your will power.” Another anecdote: David Goldberg, a seasoned doctor, turns to Harry Rabinowitz, the man seated next to him in the synagogue, and says, “Harry, you’re an intelligent lawyer, I need your help.”

The doctor begins his lament. “Every Shabbos,” he says, “during the entire time of the service, people approach me seeking medical advice. This one has stomach pains, this one’s wife woke up with a headache, this guy’s mother-in-law’s back hurts. I am just sick and tired of this. Shabbos is my only day of rest.”

“Listen to me,” says Harry. “Next guy that comes over, give him the advice he needs, but make sure to send him a bill for your medical advice the following week. I guarantee you,” says Harry, “that in no time you will have peace and quiet in the synagogue.”

“Great idea!” exclaims the doctor. He returns home in a great mood.

Tuesday, as David is opening the mail, he finds a bill from his friend Harry Rabinowitz.

Avraham’s Menu

The Torah relates the meticulous order of the meal that Avraham offered his guests, recorded in the opening verses of this week’s parsha Vayeira. First he gave them cheese and milk, and only afterward did he present them with calf’s meat, consistent with Jewish dietary laws that deli products may be eaten after dairy products, but not vice versa.

Yet another point is raised among the biblical commentators as to why Avraham chose to serve his guests these particular items – milk, cheese and meat – to begin with. The choice of meat is clear, as he wished to serve his visitors a satisfactory meal. But why, from among many possible appetizers, did Avraham decide to give them milk and cheese as a prelude to the meat?

Even if Avraham was compelled for whatever reason to serve his guests milk, why does the Torah make a point of sharing this apparently insignificant detail with us.

The Mystique of Nursing

The rule of thumb in our world is that sharing something with somebody else constitutes a loss for the giver. If I have it, and give it to you, I lose it; if you have it, and give it to me, you lose it. If you write a check for charity, your checking account is diminished. An exception to this rule is the milk a mother feeds her suckling. As long as a mother continues sharing her nourishing liquid with the child, her mammary glands will keep on refilling. Furthermore, the quantity of the milk is usually dependent on her sharing it: The more a mother nurses, the greater the flow of milk her body produces. When she ceases to breast feed, her inner production of milk ceases.

This is one of the deeper reasons why G-d created nature in a way that infants are nourished by milk. Through this natural process of infant nourishment, the Kabbalah teaches, a mother is given the opportunity to ingrain within her child’s tender consciousness the truth about sharing: The more you give, the more you will receive. Just like the milk that you are now swallowing, my dear child, the more I share it, the more I have it.

The Gift of Love

Very often guests—particularly if they are strangers—feel uncomfortable staying in somebody else’s home and eating another person’s food.

Avraham, hypersensitive to the feelings of his guests, addressed this awkwardness by offering them milk and milk products at the start of the meal, reflecting the Jewish approach toward giving. Giving is like milk: you more you give, the more you get. The greatest gift we can give ourselves is a life filled with love and caring toward other human beings. More than the host does for the guest, the guest does for the host.

This is true in our marriages as well: when a husband and wife are committed to give to each other, they themselves are often surprised of how much they receive by the sheer act of giving to somebody outside of themselves. The love we give away is the only love we keep.

Or as Winston Churchill put it: We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give.

There is a lovely story about the great Victorian Anglo-Jew, Sir Moses Montefiore. Montefiore was one of the outstanding figures of the nineteenth century. A close friend of Queen Victoria and knighted by her, he became the first Jew to attain high office in the City of London. His philanthropy extended to both Jews and non-Jews, and on his one-hundredth birthday, The London Times devoted editorials to his praise. “He had shown,” said the Times, “that fervent Judaism and patriotic citizenship are absolutely consistent with one another.”

One reflection was particularly moving: Someone once asked him, “Sir Moses, what are you worth?” Moses thought for a while and named a figure. “But surely,” said his questioner, “your wealth must be much more than that.” With a smile, Sir Moses replied, “You didn’t ask me how much I own. You asked me how much I am worth. So I calculated how much I have given to charity this year.”

“You see,” he said, “we are worth what we are willing to share with others.”

By Rabbi Efrem Goldberg

Election season is upon us in two countries we love. Israel’s election is October 27, and America’s is November 3. Two elections, just one week apart, with enormous implications for our future. And whether the votes have already been cast or are still being debated, one thing is certain: there is no shortage of people telling us what to think and how to vote. The political ads, polls, pundits, podcasts, and of course, the family WhatsApp chat and shul lobby, where everyone seems to know exactly how everyone else should vote. Everyone has an opinion, and everyone seems absolutely convinced they are right. There is nothing wrong with having strong political opinions. There is nothing wrong with campaigning, advocating, lobbying, endorsing candidates, or working passionately to persuade others to support the people and policies we believe in. Being informed, engaged, and involved in the political process is at times an important responsibility. But there is a difference between trying to convince someone and believing that anyone who disagrees with us must be ignorant, foolish, or morally compromised. We can be passionate about our convictions without being dismissive of those who reach different conclusions.

Avraham Avinu left us many legacies. To be a descendant and disciple of Avraham is to embrace ethical monotheism, to believe in one God who demands that we live moral and meaningful lives. It is to be devoted to chesed, kindness, to open our homes and hearts to others, and to take responsibility for those around us. But first and foremost, to be a child of Avraham is to be an original. It is to recognize that Hashem created each of us uniquely, with our own strengths, talents, challenges, and opportunities. It is to discover our mission, identify our calling, find our why, and have the courage to chart our own path. Last week’s parsha began with Hashem telling Avraham, “Lech lecha,” go for yourself. The Slonimer Rebbe, in Nesivos Shalom, explains that this was much more than a command to travel. It was a charge to discover who he was, to find his unique mission and purpose. Our families, communities, teachers, and experiences influence us, and we should be grateful for that. But while those influences shape us, they cannot and should not define us. If we spend our lives trying to be someone else, we may succeed at imitating them, but we will have failed at being ourselves. Avraham was the original independent thinker. He grew up surrounded by idol worshippers, including his own father, yet refused to accept something simply because everyone else believed it. He questioned, searched, challenged, and ultimately discovered the truth for himself. He was willing to stand alone, not because he wanted to be different, but because he wanted to be right. Rav Menachem Bentzion Sacks, in Menachem Tzion, explains that this is why we conclude the first blessing of Shemoneh Esrei with “Magen Avraham,” the Shield of Avraham. Hashem doesn’t just protect Avraham. He preserves and protects the Avraham inside each of us. The courage to be original, the capacity to think independently, to discover our mission, to find our calling, and to trust the tzelem Elokim, the Divine image, with which we were created. Of course, our individuality must always be expressed within the boundaries of Torah and our fundamental, unmovable principles. But within those boundaries, Hashem has made room for our uniqueness, our personalities, our perspectives, and our individual contributions.

Hashem didn’t create us to be copies of one another. He gave each of us a mind, a soul, and a mission of our own. The next time you feel pressured to conform, to follow the crowd, to stop questioning, or to outsource your thinking, your opinions, or even your vote to someone else, remember “Magen Avraham.” Remember what Hashem has placed inside you, what He is protecting within you, and what He is counting on you to use. You have an Avraham inside you. Don’t be afraid to let him lead.

But this week’s parsha, Vayeira, teaches us something equally important. The same Avraham who stood against the entire world was also willing to seek advice from others. Rashi explains that Mamrei was rewarded because he advised Avraham concerning his bris milah, his circumcision. Why would Avraham need advice when Hashem Himself had commanded him? There are different explanations, but the overall lesson is powerful. Independent thinking doesn’t mean knowing everything or refusing to listen. There is an enormous difference between listening to and hearing out others and allowing others to do your thinking for you.

And when Hashem reveals His intention to destroy Sedom, Avraham doesn’t celebrate the downfall of people whose values and behavior he rejects. He pleads on their behalf. He doesn’t compromise his convictions or approve of their behavior, but he doesn’t stop caring about them either. Avraham teaches us that we can have deep convictions without becoming arrogant, insensitive, or dismissive of others. That is a message we desperately need during election season.

I generally don’t believe rabbis, Jewish organizations, movements, and communal leaders should be endorsing candidates in elections. Our responsibility is to speak about the issues, articulate our values, identify our priorities, and encourage people to be educated, informed, and engaged. But that doesn’t mean telling people whom to vote for.

Of course, there are exceptions to what should be a general reluctance to enter political contests. When a candidate openly promotes antisemitism or threatens the safety of our people, we have a responsibility to speak up clearly and unequivocally. Concerns about antisemitism and dangerous policy positions involving figures such as Zohran Mamdani and Abdul El-Sayed (and less prominently but more recently, in our district, Oliver Larkin) should be taken seriously and examined in light of their statements, records, and positions. Antisemitism is not simply another political disagreement. It must be confronted publicly and forcefully.

But most elections are more nuanced. Thoughtful people who share a love for Israel, concern for the Jewish community, and many of the same values can nevertheless reach different conclusions about which candidate deserves their support. They may weigh experience, relationships, character, policy positions, and effectiveness differently. That doesn’t mean one person cares more about Israel or the Jewish people than another.

In our own congressional race, we have two candidates who are pro-Israel, and there are strong opinions in our community about which one deserves our support. People have repeatedly asked me, “Rabbi, who are you endorsing? Who should we vote for?” I appreciate that people value my opinion, and I certainly have opinions of my own.

So I want to make an endorsement. I endorse you. I endorse you to think for yourself, do your homework, research the candidates, understand the issues, and make an informed decision. Don’t vote for someone because your family always has supported one party, because everyone in your neighborhood is doing so, because your favorite commentator told you to, because you saw more lawn signs supporting him, or because an algorithm keeps reinforcing what you already believe. And don’t vote for someone simply because your rabbi tells you to. Learn the issues, listen to the arguments, speak to people you respect, and be open to having your mind changed. Then make your own decision.

And if you feel strongly about your candidate, by all means, advocate. Make phone calls, volunteer, campaign, and encourage others to see what you see. There is nothing wrong with trying to persuade people. But remember that the goal is to inform and inspire, not to intimidate or shame. Share what you believe, explain why you believe it, and make the strongest case you can. Then recognize that the person listening may have heard everything you said, understood it perfectly well, and still reached a different conclusion. Someone can disagree with you without being uninformed. Someone can reach a different conclusion without having different values. And someone can vote differently than you without being any less deserving of your respect. Of course, not every position is equally legitimate, and not every disagreement is merely a matter of perspective. There are moral lines we cannot compromise and fundamental principles we must defend. But too often, we treat differences in political judgment as though they are differences in moral character. We assume that if someone doesn’t reach our conclusion, they must not care about what we care about. That attitude doesn’t persuade people. It pushes them away, damages relationships, and weakens our community. One of the great features about elections in this country is that when we walk into a voting booth, we are alone. Alone with our own judgment, conscience, and responsibility. Nobody comes in with us. Not our parents, children, friends, political party, favorite podcast, or even our rabbi. And when we walk out, we need to remember that the people who voted differently are still our friends, neighbors, family members, and fellow Jews. We will still daven together, celebrate simchas together, comfort one another during difficult times, and work together to build a stronger community. The election matters, but our relationships matter too.

This message extends far beyond politics. How often do we make decisions based on what others will think? How often do we choose a path because everyone else is doing it? How often do we measure our success, happiness, or even religious growth by comparing ourselves to others? Hashem doesn’t need another copy of someone else. He already has that person. He needs you.

Last week’s parsha taught us to have the courage to discover who we are. This week’s parsha reminds us that discovering who we are must never come at the expense of respecting who others are. Avraham was an independent thinker but he wasn’t an arrogant one. He had the courage to stand alone, the humility to seek advice, and the compassion to care about people with whom he profoundly disagreed.

But there is one more important message, perhaps the most important of all. Whatever your political opinions, whatever your preferences, whatever your frustrations with the candidates or the process, go out and vote.

In 1984, Rav Moshe Feinstein wrote a remarkable and now-famous letter about the responsibility of American Jews to participate in elections. He explained that America had provided the Jewish people with a safe haven, religious freedom, and the ability to practice our faith without interference. He taught that a fundamental principle of Judaism is hakaras hatov, recognizing and expressing gratitude for the good we receive. He wrote that participation in the democratic system is incumbent upon Jewish citizens, and that the most fundamental responsibility is to register and vote.

For Rav Moshe, voting wasn’t simply a political privilege or an opportunity to influence government. It was an expression of a Jewish obligation rooted in gratitude. We have been blessed to live in a country that gives us the freedom to practice our religion, build our communities, educate our children, and participate in determining who governs us. We express appreciation for those blessings not only by saying thank you, but by accepting the responsibility that comes with them. More than that, even though our individual votes are private, it is public record which geographic areas turn out and cast votes, and showing that our community cares enough to participate in the process gives us the ability to have more influence going forward. We are blessed to have a voice. We have a responsibility to use it.

So research the candidates, study the issues, listen to different perspectives, make your own decision, and respect those who make a different one. But above all, don’t sit this election out. I endorse you. I endorse your ability to think, your responsibility to choose, and your obligation to participate.

Go out and vote.

By Rabbi Aryeh Lebowitz

And he lifted his eyes, and behold three “men” were standing before him. And he ran to greet them from the opening of the tent, and he bowed towards the ground. ~ Bereishis 18:2

The Source

The Minhag Tov, a sefer from the times of the rishonim, records the custom that when one returns home from shul on Friday night, he should walk up to the Shabbos candles and say, “Malachei Rachamim V’Shalom, Boachem L’Shalom Boachem L’Shalom Aleichem Shalom L’Kulchem Shalom” This custom continued and further developed until today, when there is a near universal practice to sing or recite Shalom Aleichem upon returning home from shul and beginning the Friday night seudah.

The practice, as we know it presently, is attested to in siddurim from several hundred years ago.

We can understand the origins of such a custom in light of the Gemara (Shabbos 119b) that describes the angels that accompany a person home from shul on Friday night and bless him if he merits it: It was taught: Rabbi Yosi bar Yehuda says: Two ministering angels accompany a person on Friday night from the synagogue to his home, one good and one evil. When he arrives home and finds a lamp burning, the table set, and his bed made, the good angel says: “May it be G-d’s will that it be like this for another Shabbos,” and the evil angel answers “Amen” against his will. But if not, the evil angel says: “May it be G-d’s will that it be like this for another Shabbos,” and the good angel answers “Amen” against his will.

What Are Malachim?

Whether we speak of the Friday night angels or others, there is a fundamental dispute among the rishonim regarding the proper understanding of the concept of malachim. The Rambam (Moreh Nevuchim 2:6) writes that malachim are not always to be understood as angelic beings that are independent entities. Rather, they represent feelings, inclinations, and emotions that one experiences. For example, the term “malach” can refer to one’s yezter hara and yetzer hatov.

Based on this, the Akeidas Yitzchak (Parshas Mishpatim, Sha’ar 47) explains that when the Gemara describes the angels that escort one home from shul, it is really referring to the person’s good and evil inclinations. If he has properly prepared for Shabbos, his yetzer hatov is strengthened and his yezter hara is weakened, and vice versa. Similarly, Rav Tzvi Hersh Chajes (Maharatz Chayes) explains that the malachim of the Gemara refer to the mitzvos that surround a person (based on Rambam Hil. Mezuzah 6:13).

However, the Ramban (Bereishis 18:10) vehemently rejects the Rambam’s entire approach, explaining that in both Tanach and the writings of Chazal, it is clear that malachim are real angels that interact with people and perform the shlichus of Hashem. Thus, according to the Rambam, singing Shalom Aleichem is a way to acknowledge one’s feelings or focus upon the mitzvos that should surround us. According to the Ramban, we are literally greeting and speaking with Hashem’s emissaries.

Rav Yaakov Emden’s Objections

Despite its popularity and acceptance throughout the Jewish people, there were several great poskim who opposed some or the entire singing of Shalom Aleichem. Rav Yaakov Emden (Siddur Beis Yaakov, Hanhagos Leil Shabbos) thought the custom was incorrect for at least three reasons.

His first objection is that we ask the malachim to “bless us,” which seems to be an instance of davening to malachim. Many poskim hold that it is forbidden to direct tefillos to any entity other than Hashem. While it is acceptable to ask another person (rebbi, tzaddik, etc.) for a beracha, making that request of a malach is not appropriate. Furthermore, it is reported in the name of the Vilna Gaon (Tos. Ma’aseh Rav 128) that he questioned the logic of reciting borchuni l’shalom, since malachim have no free will to decide whether or not to bless us. A second objection raised by Rav Yaakov Emden relates to the paragraph where we wish the angels farewell (tzeischem l’shalom).

Rav Emden wonders why, immediately after requesting a beracha, we then send the malachim on their way. Shouldn’t we invite them to stay at our Shabbos tables, or at least allow them to leave on their own?

The Machtzis HaShekel (O.C. 222:1), however, explains that the malachim do remain with us the entire Shabbos, and we are not telling them to leave now. Rather, we are simply blessing them that when the time comes for them to depart, it should be a peaceful journey. Alternatively, the Sfas Emes (Vayetze 5561) explains that there are two sets of malachim: those who accompany us during the week, and those who escort us on Shabbos. We are actually bidding farewell (tzeischem l’shalom) to the weekday malachim after welcoming (shalom aleichem) the Shabbos malachim.

Similarly, Heichal HaBeracha (Bereishis 16) explains that in the first stanza we refer to the angels as “malachei hashareis” and in the others we call them “malachei hashalom.” This is because malachei hashareis refers to the entire group of angels, while malachei hashalom refers specifically to those angels that accompany us over the course of Shabbos. Thus, when we first enter our homes we are addressing all the malachim, but subsequently we speak only to those who are with us for Shabbos. The final objection raised by Rav Yaakov Emden relates to the text of “mimelech malchei hamlachim” — from the King of kings. He believed that the letter “mem” serves no function here, and can be misunderstood as a suggestion that the angels themselves have qualities of divinity and that they are “from” the same entity as Hashem. The Iyun Tefillah (p. 316), however, explains that the “mem” simply indicates that the malachim are coming “from” Hashem as his emissaries. Alternatively, the Sho’el V’Nish’al (O.C. 2:2) explains that the word “mimelech” is referring back to our initial blessing of shalom. We are saying that the aforementioned peace should come from the King of kings. Based on this, the word “mimelech” should only be said in the first stanza, since that is the only one in which we bless them with shalom. He concludes that he simply says the word “melech” in each subsequent stanza without the prefix “mem.”

Due to his various concerns, Rav Yaakov Emden recommended only reciting the first stanza of Shalom Aleichem, one time, leaving out the “mem,” and omitting the subsequent stanzas.

Malachim Today

It is reported that the Chasam Sofer (Minhagei Chasam Sofer 5:6) refrained from reciting Shalom Aleichem for a different reason entirely. The Gemara (Berachos 60b) teaches that when one enters the bathroom, he should request that the malachim who escort him throughout the day remain outside. We no longer have this practice, since we do not possess the spiritual sensitivity to perceive these malachim. He reasons that, similarly, since we can no longer sense the presence of angels, we should also not greet them on Friday night. However, Rav Yisrael Weltz (Zichron L’Moshe 9:6) cites the Maharam Schick that the Chasam Sofer did recite Shalom Aleichem quietly to himself. He adds that this fits into the Chasam Sofer’s general approach that minhagei Yisrael are sacrosanct and should not be abandoned, even when we have unresolved questions on some of the practices.

On the other hand, Rav Avraham Yitzchak Kook (Olas Re’iyah 2, p. 39) suggests that we do not speak to the malachim when entering the bathroom during the week, since those malachim accompanied us only when we wore tefillin all day, which we no longer do. On Shabbos, however, when we do not wear tefillin, the merit of Shabbos brings the malachim to us, and thus we can still address them today.

By Rabbi Dr. Yaakov Abramovitz

Would you be disappointed if you didn’t have to perform a mitzvah?

Most of us would probably welcome the exemption from responsibility. If circumstances prevented us from fulfilling a difficult mitzvah, we would probably feel relieved rather than deprived.

Avraham Avinu felt exactly the opposite.

Parshas Vayeira opens just days after Avraham’s bris milah. Recovering from surgery at the age of ninety-nine, he sat outside his tent scanning the horizon for guests. Rashi (Bereishis 18:1) explains that Avraham was distressed because the roads were empty. Seeing his disappointment, Hashem sent angels disguised as travelers so that Avraham would have the opportunity to perform hachnasas orchim.

Rav Moshe Feinstein zt”l notes a remarkable point. Avraham was not upset because he had failed to help those in need – there was no one to help! Rather, he was pained by the absence of the opportunity to do chessed. Being unable to perform the mitzvah did not comfort him; it disappointed him. The same attitude appears later in the parshah. As Avraham journeyed to the Akeidah, the Torah records that he personally prepared and brought wood with him (Bereishis 22:3). The Ramban explains that Avraham feared there might not be wood available at the site, which could delay or even prevent him from carrying out Hashem’s command. Rather than leaving anything to chance, he ensured that every detail was in place.

Given the unimaginable difficulty of the Akeidah, we might have expected Avraham to hope that some obstacle would arise. After all, if no wood was at the site, how could he be blamed for not offering a korban?

Instead, he removed every possible obstacle.

Even a mitzvah that demanded his greatest sacrifice was not one from which he sought an escape.

The way we respond to our obligations says a great deal about what we truly value.

When something difficult but important presents itself, our instinct is often to ask, “Is there a way out?” Avraham instinctively asked the opposite question: “How can I make sure I don’t miss this opportunity?” That perspective extends far beyond mitzvos. The person who truly values honesty doesn’t look for loopholes. The devoted spouse doesn’t hope to be excused from difficult conversations. The committed parent doesn’t search for reasons to avoid showing up for a child. Our values are revealed not by what we claim is important, but by whether we seek opportunities to do what is right or quietly hope they disappear.

Avraham teaches us that true greatness is reached when doing the right thing becomes more than an obligation – it becomes what we genuinely want.

By Rabbi Shay Tahan

The recent elections brought out a flood of slander. Candidates attacked each other, campaigns spread stories, and the same dirt was passed from WhatsApp group to WhatsApp group, at the Shabbat table and in shul. Many good people joined in without a second thought: “It’s politics,” “Everyone knows it anyway,” “It’s true.”

But the Torah’s rules don’t take a break during election season. Is it permitted to say these things? Is it permitted to listen?

True Is Not a Heter

The Chofetz Chaim (Lashon Hara, Klal 1:1) rules that it is forbidden to speak negatively about another Jew even if it is completely true. That is exactly what Chazal call lashon hara, and the speaker transgresses “Lo telech rachil be’amecha.” If any falsehood is mixed in, it becomes motzi shem ra, which is far worse. And one who makes a habit of it, sitting and telling “so-and-so did this, I heard that about him,” is called a baal lashon hara, whose punishment is much greater (Klal 1:3).

Listening Is Also Forbidden

The Chofetz Chaim (Klal 6:1) rules that it is a Torah prohibition to accept lashon hara, meaning to believe in your heart that the story is true. Even just listening is forbidden by the Torah, even if you don’t plan to believe it, since you are lending your ear (Klal 6:2).

However, there is a difference between listening and accepting. If the information is relevant to you for the future, for example you were about to go into business with this person, you may listen in order to be cautious and protect yourself. The same applies if hearing it will help others. But to accept it, to decide in your heart that it is true, is forbidden in every case (Klal 6:2).

And if one sits in a group that starts speaking forbidden things and rebuke won’t help, it is a great mitzvah to leave or even to put a finger in one’s ears (Klal 6:5).

When It Is Permitted: Le’To’elet

The Torah does not want a person to be harmed because others kept quiet. The Chofetz Chaim (Rechilut, Klal 9:1) writes that if one sees that his friend wants to go into partnership with someone, and he believes it will surely cause him harm, he must tell him in order to save him. But this requires five conditions (Klal 9:2): 1. Do not jump to conclusions. First examine carefully whether the matter is truly bad.

2. Do not exaggerate. Tell it no worse than it actually is.

3. Intend only to help, to prevent the harm, and not out of hatred for the other person. Included in this, first think whether telling will actually accomplish anything. If the listener won’t heed you and will partner with him anyway, and later, when they quarrel, will say “so-and-so was right about you,” there is no heter at all. 4. If the benefit can be achieved without revealing anything negative, it is forbidden to tell.

5. The telling may not cause the person actual harm. Losing the benefit the other would have given him is permitted, but causing him real damage requires further conditions, and certainly no harm beyond what halacha would impose.

In Lashon Hara (Klal 10:1-2), the Chofetz Chaim adds that one who saw someone wrong his fellow may publicize it to help the victim and to denounce the act. The conditions there include: he saw it himself rather than heard it, he first rebuked the wrongdoer gently, he does not exaggerate, his intent is to help and not to enjoy the other’s shame, there is no other way, and no harm results beyond what beis din would rule. And if the speaker is guilty of the same sins himself, it is forbidden, because his intent is not for good but to gloat (Klal 10:3).

The Tziyurim

At the end of Hilchot Rechilut, the Chofetz Chaim brings Tziyurim, practical cases. In the first: you see Reuven wanting to go into business with Shimon, who doesn’t know him, and you know well that Reuven doesn’t care about other people’s money. Warn Shimon beforehand. This is not lashon hara, but all the conditions of Klal 9 must be met.

What This Means for Elections

Choosing a leader is, in a sense, entering into a partnership with him. We place our community’s interests in his hands. So there can be real to’elet in warning people about a candidate, if one truly knows something that would harm the public. But all the conditions apply: know it firsthand or verified, examine it carefully, don’t exaggerate, speak only to protect and not out of party hatred, say only what is necessary, and stay within the truth. Spreading a story you saw forwarded, mocking a candidate, or repeating rumors to make “our side” look good does not meet these conditions. That is plain lashon hara, and often motzi shem ra.

The requirement of firsthand knowledge also includes hearing on line a speech in which he made a promise that could potentially harm our community, or the like. Also, if he has a record of engaging in behavior that is harmful to our way of life, this may be relevant as well. Furthermore, the requirement to rebuke him first may not apply in this case, assuming that he would not listen anyway (Klal 10:7).

The same goes for listening. A voter who wants to know relevant facts about a candidate in order to vote responsibly may listen, in order to be careful. But he may not accept as fact everything he hears, and he must not sit and enjoy an hour of political gossip.

Another heter is when the candidate is a wicked person who doesn’t believe in hashem or the torah. Or if he vows to fight the torah and the yeshiva system (klal 7:5 and Tshuvot vehanagot 3:478).

The elections will pass. The words we spoke, and the ones we listened to, remain. May we merit to guard our mouths and our ears, and to see true leaders who bring blessing to Klal Yisrael.

By Rabbi Reuven and Shira Boshnack

Dear Rabbi and Shira, I was dating a guy for 3 months, and I fell hard for him. We had common goals, and enjoyed speaking about all things pre-law. We spoke night and day, and had a magic present, which is hard to describe After three months, he dumped me. I understand why he wasn’t right for me, but now, a year later I’m dating a wonderful young man who I care about, we share common interests, but that “spark” is not there. What should I do? I feel like I might be missing out on a different great guy just because of something that I can’t quite put my finger on. -Sparkless in Brooklyn

Hi Sparkless!

We’d like you to do a mental exercise. Can you close your eyes and think about both of these young men. Think about what was it that excited you about this first guy? Was he more attractive physically than your current boyfriend, how so? Were there familial/cultural factors which you found attractive, what were they? How much time are you spending with your current boyfriend, is that different? Are you seeing your current boyfriend too much? Are you seeing him too little? Are you excited to be with him or are you relieved when you are not with him?

Also, we’d like you to consider the following thought. Is it possible you are more on guard after the last incident, and are afraid of “letting someone get close again?” Sometimes, after a “let-down”, we are “on-guard” not to let the same thing happen again. You could be worrying that he could at any moment dump you, just like the last guy. One more alternative, maybe you are comparing too much. Maybe you are asking yourself if your experience will ever be as good as it was with your ex. Of course, there simply might not be the chemistry between the two of you, despite shared interests. It’s normal to be a little on edge, or doubtful about the future, but if you find yourself unable to open up again and let your guard down; you might consider speaking with a professional to learn to trust again.

Good Luck!

Rabbi Reuven and Shira Boshnack.

By Rabbi Moishe Dovid Lebovits

Hashem Desires the Tefillos of Tzaddikim

The Gemara says that the reason our forefathers were barren was that Hashem desires the tefillos of tzaddikim.

Our forefathers had not sinned, yet they were held back from having children because Hashem wanted their tefillos. How do we understand this? Tzaddikim daven all day, and the Avos even established the three daily tefillos. What, then, does it mean that Hashem desires their tefillos?

Hashem’s True Desire

Although Hashem desires the tefillos of tzaddikim, this does not mean that they are consigned to a life of misery. In most cases, tzaddikim are quite happy in this world. They live wisely and are more capable of enjoying Olam Hazeh than others. Hashem bestows blessing upon them.

However, even good people sometimes experience distress, which causes them to grow in emunah. The pain they undergo ultimately brings them the greatest benefit.

Becoming more and more aware of Hashem in this world is the highest achievement. This is what Hashem desires for His righteous ones.

Some commentators explain that Hashem desires the tefillos of tzaddikim because they are accustomed to davening for Klal Yisrael rather than for themselves, since they are happy with what they have.

As mentioned previously, the main purpose of tefillah is not for Hashem’s benefit but for our own. We daven to ensure that we are adequately prepared to receive Hashem’s bounty. If Yitzchak Avinu and Yaakov Avinu wanted children, they had to prepare themselves to receive this gift from Hashem, especially on their lofty spiritual level. When the Gemara says that Hashem desires the tefillos of tzaddikim, it does not mean that He has a desire for the prayers themselves. Rather, the intention is that the tzaddik should daven so that he can grow spiritually and become ready to receive Hashem’s bounty. In addition, the sadness of being childless caused these tzaddikim to engage in more prayer, which enabled them to strengthen their emunah in Hashem.

This is comparable to pressing grapes.

Pressing a good grape produces excellent grape juice. However, when more juice is desired than can be extracted by hand, the grapes are placed in a machine so that every last drop can be extracted.

The Avos prayed even without pressure, but Hashem placed them in a difficult situation to encourage them to pray with even greater fervor. This allowed them to reach higher levels of emunah and receive Hashem’s blessing.

The Tefillos of the Imahos

The Kedushas Levi explains that Leah was not barren, even though our other Imahos were. Leah had already davened extensively so that she would not have to marry Esav. Since she had already engaged in so much prayer, there was no need to make her barren to encourage her to daven more.

The Shach explains that the reason our Imahos were barren was to encourage them to daven and transform themselves spiritually. Rivkah, for example, needed to become a different person through her tefillos, no longer defined by her origins as the daughter of Besuel. This was necessary so that the children of Klal Yisrael would be born without spiritual defects.

This also explains why Avraham and Sarah’s names were changed. The name changes demonstrated that they were no longer the same Avraham and Sarah who had been barren and, according to the laws of nature, unable to have children.

The Imahos were barren because they came from wicked families and therefore needed to daven so that they could transform themselves. Avraham was also barren because he came from Terach. Yitzchak and Yaakov, however, were not barren because they did not come from wicked parents.

Once the Imahos and Avraham had davened and transformed themselves spiritually, they were able to give birth to Klal Yisrael.

INGREDIENTS:

1 bunch parsley
3 cloves garlic
1 teaspoon each oregano
and crushed red pepper
flakes
3 tablespoons red wine
vinegar
2/3 cup extra-virgin olive
oil
Salt and pepper to taste

DIRECTIONS:

This adds a brightness and
freshness to your steaks or
London Broil. It’s so easy to
make and so delicious.
Add all your ingredients
into a small food processor
and blend until items are
emulsied.
Serve alongside your steak
or London Broil and enjoy!

By Rabbi Gil Student

In honor of Rabbi Jonathan Sacks’ sixth yahrtzeit, 20 Cheshvan 5787, which falls on Shabbos Parashas Vayeira, I would like to explore his argument for the highest priority charity and support it from the responsa literature. In 1991, Rabbi Sacks took office as the Chief Rabbi. It was a time when all the talk in the diaspora Jewish community was about continuity, given the high rates of intermarriage. The first book that Rabbi Sacks published in office was titled Will We Have Jewish Grandchildren? (Vallentine Mitchell, 1994) and it packs a punch. Not only intermarriage but also late marriage, low fertility rates and general indifference threaten the continuity of the Jewish people.

I. Continuity and Education

Rabbi Sacks contrasts that uncontested view of the general Jewish community with the revival and growth of what he calls traditional (i.e. Orthodox) Jewry. That community responded to the Holocaust by focusing on education, raising disciples. The broader Jewish community responded differently: “They built Holocaust museums and monuments, funded chairs and periodicals, wrote Holocaust theology and sponsored visits to Auschwitz. A generation of young Jews, those who grew up in the 1970s and 1980s, has been liberally exposed to literature, films and lectures about the Holocaust, and it is this generation which is choosing to marry out of Judaism at the rate of one in two” (Will We Have Jewish Grandchildren, 2024 edition, p. 46). The antidote to the problem, Rabbi Sacks’ solution to Jewish continuity, is Jewish education. This book accompanied a massive campaign to increase the number of Jewish schools in the UK and the number of Jewish children in those schools. Rabbi Sacks argues in the book that education must be our highest priority. He demonstrates this with a decision that he faced in 1993. “About a year ago, I received an invitation to lunch with the Prime Minister at Chequers. At the same time I received an invitation to take part in the opening ceremony of a new Jewish school in London. Both events were on the same day, at roughly the same time. I could not attend both. Which took precedence?… On that occasion, I regretfully declined the Prime Minister’s invitation and opened the school” (ibid., pp. 52-53).

Rabbi Sacks proceeds to quote from communal enactments of communities devastated by the Chmielnicki massacres in seventeenth century Poland who had to rebuild. We have records of their communal ordinances, including their prioritizing communal funds for education (ibid., pp. 54-55). We see Rabbi Sacks’ argument for the primacy of education emerge in responsa regarding specific cases of halachic uncertainty.

II. Charity of the Deceased

In mid-sixteenth century Turkey, a wealthy man passed away without leaving instructions for the disposal of his charity funds. Local rabbis allocated some money to his poor brother, but his sons objected that they should inherit and distribute it. The question was brought to the Maharshdam, Rav Shmuel Di Medina of Salonica (Responsa Maharshdam, Yoreh De’ah, no. 158).

Maharshdam says that we must determine the deceased’s intentions. Since these are unknown, the money should go to the highest level of charity. Rav Ya’akov Ben Asher (14th cen., Germany-Spain) quotes his father, Rav Asher (known as the Rosh), as saying that a town may reallocate to a study hall money that was donated to a synagogue or cemetery (Tur, Yoreh De’ah 259). Maharshdam argues that if money designated for a synagogue can support Torah study, certainly money whose intended purpose is unknown can. Giving it to a lesser charity risks misusing the donation.

Which Torah study organization takes priority? Maharshdam quotes the Gemara (Shabbos 119b) that the world survives because of the Torah study of children, who due to their age are free of responsibility from sin. Additionally, more people doing a mitzvah together has greater merit than fewer people. Therefore, concludes Maharshdam, the money should be given to the highest charity — a large elementary school.

Similarly, Rav Ephraim Navon (18th cen., Turkey) addresses a related question. A man donated money to establish in a small town a part-time kollel of ten men studying Torah. However, the town could not find ten men willing to enroll. The donor wished to change the endowment from a kollel to a full-time elementary school teacher. Rav Navon permitted this reallocation for technical reasons but adds that this new purpose is higher than the original because the Torah study of children sustains the world (Machaneh Ephraim, Hilchos Tzedakah, no. 11).

III. G-d’s Place

However, Rav Raphael Yosef Chazzan (19th cen., Turkey-Israel) challenges this argument. He quotes the Gemara (Berachos 8a) which states that nowadays G-d only has the four cubits of halachah. Therefore, He loves the distinguished gates of halachah more than all the synagogues and other study halls. According to this passage, high-level Torah study merits higher priority than any other study. This seems to contradict the earlier passage, which gives priority to children’s Torah study.

This question gains greater strength when we note that the priority of high-level Torah has practical implications. Rambam (Mishneh Torah, Hilchos Tefillah 8:3) rules, based on the above Gemara, that it is better to pray in a study hall than a synagogue. Shulchan Aruch (Orach Chaim 90:18) rules likewise. Since the two passages seem to contradict and the latter is quoted authoritatively, Rav Chazzan argues, it would seem that an elementary school should not be given priority over adult Torah study (Ma’archei Lev, vol. 1 no. 25).

Rav Chaim Palaggi (19th cen., Turkey) favors the interpretation of Rav Chazzan. However, he struggles with the many authorities who side with the Maharshdam. Rather than taking a minority view against the majority, in an impressive act of intellectual humility Rav Palaggi adopts a middle position that gives due weight to the majority with which he disagrees (Chaim Be-Yad, nos. 64-65).

IV. Jewish Behavior

Perhaps a reconciliation of the two passages lies in the Rambam’s interpretation. Rav Chazzan and Rav Palaggi follow Maharsha’s interpretation that the Gemara is praising high-level study of halachah. In the introduction to his commentary to the Mishnah (ed. Kafach, vol. 1, p. 21), Rambam sees the passage about the four cubits of halachah as a general declaration about the uniqueness of true loyalty to the letter and spirit of halachah. Synagogues and study halls may be full of people studying Torah but not enough of those students apply these teachings properly to develop a faithful Torah personality. Only someone who internalizes the messages of halachah can reach out fully to G-d. If so, the distinguished gates of halachah may overlap with elementary schools. Schools that teach proper character traits, that teach Jewish values and behaviors, seem to qualify as remaining within the four cubits of halachah, whether for adults or children. An elementary school that trains its students to follow Jewish tradition, to embrace and internalize the messages of Judaism regarding behavior and thought, serves in the same capacity as a high-level kollel. Both types of institutions are distinguished gates of halachah. Elementary schools have the additional benefit of purity, discussed above.

This understanding conforms with Rabbi Sacks’ emphasis on Jewish education. His concern extended beyond the teaching of information. Jewish schools are necessary because they form a generation whose knowledge of Judaism shapes its conduct and commitments.

Rabbi Sacks’ vision of Jewish continuity through Jewish education is another example of traditional wisdom that is so desperately needed in the modern world. His argument to prioritize communal funding is not only halachically correct but also life-saving advice for the Jewish community. In this post-October 7 world, we see the non-Orthodox leadership waking up to this absolute necessity of prioritizing Jewish education. Once again, Rabbi Sacks was both traditional and prescient.

By Rabbi Yissocher Frand

“Please take a bit of water, wash your feet, rest under the tree, and I will give you a little bread” [Bereishis 18:4]. We would think that the person who epitomized welcoming guests into his home would speak differently. Rather than promising a bit of water and a little bread and offering them rest under the tree, we would have expected that Avraham would invite them directly into his house, promise them a nice meal, and put them up in the finest accommodations.

Rav Nissan Alpert explained that many times we are hesitant to take guests into our house. Our excuse is that we really cannot do them justice. We cannot serve a meal that is appropriate for them. “We are having leftovers tonight.” “We cannot serve tuna fish to the guests!” “We cannot give them the accommodations that they deserve.” “I would rather not invite guests at all than invite them and not give them the honor that they deserve.” We learn just the opposite from Avraham Avinu. Proper hospitality (Hachnasas Orchim) is to invite the guests when they “show up”. Let them eat Rice Krispies — a bit of water, a little bread — but invite them in. The lesson that our patriarch is teaching us regarding Hachnasas Orchim is to always be ready to have guests. People do not need sumptuous meals. They do not need meals akin to the meal of Shlomo in his heyday. People are even happy with tuna fish. They do not need more. They do not want more.

Rabbi Alpert said that his father used to say “One should never PREPARE for company; but one should always BE PREPARED for company.” The quintessential host tells us to have the company. Even if we cannot provide them with our “knock-out” recipes, have the company, nevertheless.

Avraham’s Prayers For Sodom Did Help – They Helped Avraham Himself When G-d was about to destroy Sodom, He said “Will I hide from Avraham that which I am about to do?” [18:17]. He then told Avraham about the imminent destruction of Sodom. Avraham prayed…50, 40, 30,… Ultimately G-d decided to destroy Sodom anyway.

This narration is hard to understand. G-d knew that he was going to destroy Sodom. G-d knew up front that Sodom did not possess 50 or 40 or even 10 righteous people. So what was He doing? Was He playing games with Avraham?

It seems as if He was dangling a little prize called Sodom in front of Avraham, challenging him to save the city. It seems as if He was teasing Avraham, because there was no way that Avraham could win the prize! Avraham grasped for the prize, as it were, but could never catch it! It appears as if G-d was setting Avraham up for disappointment.

The fact is that it is possible that G-d was actually doing a tremendous service to Avraham. This exercise helped Avraham to become the pillar of Chessed that he would ultimately represent. We fail to realize that when we pray for something or for someone, those prayers have an effect on us regardless of whether those prayers are answered or not. How many times have we come together as individuals or as a community and poured out our prayers for somebody? There are unfortunately times when “it did not work” and the effort was seemingly to no avail. We ask ourselves, “What did we do?” We did what we could. We fasted. We cried. We gave charity. But it did not help!

This is a tremendous mistake. It did help. Even if it did not help anyone else, at least it helped us! We became better people because we were concerned about somebody else — a neighbor, a friend, a member of the community. We prayed and we gave our hearts. We did something. We became better.

This is what G-d was telling Avraham. “Pray! I will not destroy Sodom until you pray. Why? I know your prayers will not be effective. I know Sodom is doomed. But that is irrelevant. You, Avraham, will become a different person as a result of those prayers. You will perfect your attribute of Chessed, your attribute of caring and compassion. That is what it is all about.”

This is so important when we pray for something or someone. We should never think that the prayers are for naught. We do not know what the prayers accomplished — even for the person for whom we are praying. Maybe, somehow, they lightened the load. We can only speculate about that. But there is one thing regarding which we can be certain — we became different people as a result of those prayers.

By Rabbi Joey Haber

People sometimes ask me for advice on how to give speeches. Whenever I’m asked this, I give the same three pieces of advice:

Remember that nobody cares what you have to say. Just because I have a nice devar Torah to share, or some story that I find interesting – this doesn’t mean that they care about it. My job when giving a speech is to find something to say that’s relevant to them, that’s interesting to them, that’s of value to them. Not what’s relevant, interesting, or of value to me.

Never, ever, ever, ever speak to an audience that you don’t respect. Each and every word should be spoken in a manner that expresses respect for the people you’re speaking to. If they feel you’re talking down to them, in a condescending way, they won’t pay attention to anything you say.

Be vulnerable. Be prepared to share stories about yourself that aren’t especially flattering. There’s a clear common denominator between all three pieces of advice – making the audience feel that you’re with them, not above them, that you’re not standing and talking to them from a different place, but rather speaking to them as an equal.

This, I believe, is the key element of chesed – which is one of the important themes of Parashat Vayera.

The story told at the beginning of the parashah, describing how Avraham Avinu hosted three angels who appeared to him as weary nomads, provides us with a paradigm of chesed. And we read that after Avraham brought them food and served them, “he stood with them as they ate in the shade” (18:8).

This is a critically important part of the story. Avraham didn’t just give them food and then get back to his affairs. He stayed with them. He showed them respect. He gave them his full attention. He made it clear that he really and truly cared about them, that they were important to him.

The Gemara teaches in Masechet Baba Batra (9b) that one who gives money to a poor person receives six blessings in reward, but somebody who speaks kindly to a poor person, giving him encouragement and emotional support, receives 11 blessings. A poor person of course needs money – but there’s something he needs even more than money, and that is respect and concern, the feeling that somebody truly cares about them and considers them important. Most patients prefer doctors with a good bedside manner than a doctor who’s the best in the field – precisely for this reason. They need not just good medical care – but somebody who is really concerned about them, who can provide them emotional support and comfort during this crisis.

Moshe Rabbenu was given his name, Moshe, because Pharaoh’s daughter drew him from the water when she found him floating in a basket in the river – Ki Min Hamayimn M’shitihu (Shemot 2:10). Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch noted that seemingly, Moshe should have been named Mishui which means “drawn” – as he was drawn from the water. But instead, he was called Moshe, which means not “drawn,” but “draw.” Rav Hirsch explains that because Moshe was “drawn,” because his life was saved through chesed, he was to devote his entire life to “drawing,” to saving and helping other people.

This is true not only of Moshe Rabbenu, but of every one us. There isn’t anybody alive who is not the beneficiary of chesed. We are here only because we had people who took care of us, and so much of the good fortune that we enjoy is because of kindness that people do for us even today. Our family, our friends, our community, our society – we owe so much to so many people, without whom we wouldn’t have the blessings that we enjoy.

If we understand this, then we will be able to do chesed the right way – as equals, without condescension, and without ego. If we understand that we are dependent on people’s chesed, then we will give respect to the people who need our chesed. We will realize that we are all in the same boat, that we all depend on one another, and so we all need to help one another. We will then be able to meet other people where they are, and treat them as equals, giving them the feelings of dignity and self-worth that they so desperately need.

Avraham is the paragon of chesed not only because of his generosity, but because he treated his guests as equals, because he came to where they were standing, without arrogance and without feeling more important than them. This is the example of chesed that we must aspire to follow.

By Rabbi Moshe Meir Weiss

In this week’s parsha, we observe one of the most complex individuals in the entire Chumash: Lot, the brother of Sarah, son of Charan, and nephew of Avraham. According to the Sefer HaYashar, Lot lived one hundred and forty-two years and during his lifetime, he made some obviously wrong decisions.

Leaving the righteous Avraham and choosing to live in the wicked surroundings of S’dom was the most noticeable. Rashi further incriminates him by saying that when he departed from Avraham, he exclaimed, “Ee afshi lo b’Avram v’lo b’Eilokav – I don’t want Avraham nor his G-d.” When he explains that the Shechina started to talk to Avraham once again when Lot left, Rashi calls Lot a rasha, a wicked person, and says that as long as Lot was with Avraham, he blocked the Shechina from coming to Avraham.

Fascinatingly, in both the ArtScroll Mikra’os Gedolos and ArtScroll Stone Chumash, there is a bracketed comment in Rashi that says, “This is what Hashem meant when he said, ‘Lech Lecha – Go yourself,’ ” implying you, Avraham, yourself, but not with Lot.

However, if you look in any of the older copies of Mikra’os Gedolos on your shelves, that bracketed comment is absent. Instead, there is a comment that earlier, when it says, “Vayeira alov Avraham – That G-d appeared to Avraham,” at that point Lot was a worthy person.

When initially Avraham set out on the mission of ‘Lech Lecha’ and the Torah says, “Va’yeilech ito Lot – And he took Lot with him,” the Zohar asks, “Why did he take Lot?” The Zohar then answers that, “B’gin d’ztafa b’ruach haKodesh she’asid l’meipak minei Dovid – Because he saw with Divine inspiration that Dovid would descend [from Lot’s daughter].” (This also explains why Avraham went with Eliezer on a suicide mission against four mighty kings and two million soldiers to rescue Lot.)

There is another reason why Avraham might have taken Lot under his wings. Lot was orphaned from his father Haran because of Avraham. When Avraham successfully came out of Nimrod’s furnace of fire, Nimrod turned to Haran and asked, “What about you?” Seeing that Avraham emerged intact, Haran went inside. But, since his heart was not pure like Avraham’s, he wasn’t saved.

In yet another version of the story, Nimrod argued that Avraham was saved in the merit of his father Terach, who was a great champion of idolatry. Some onlookers said if that were the case, they wanted to see whether it would also help Haran. However, since Avraham hadn’t been saved because of Terach’s merit, Haran was burnt to a crisp. Either way, Avraham felt responsible for Lot and took him under his wings. Subsequently, I found that this is the reason the Chizkuni gives for why Avraham took Lot with him.

It also explains an enigmatic pneumonic at the end of Parshas Noach. There it says, as it always does at the end of the parsha, the tally of pesukim of noach which is 153. It gives us a pneumonic of this number, “Avi Yiskah Lot – The father of Yiskah, Lot.” Now, that’s not true. The father of Yiskah was Haran. Perhaps it means that Lot was taken by Avraham because of the father of Yiskah, who was Haran.

My readers might wonder: If Rashi says that Lot was a rasha who didn’t want to have anything to do with Hashem, why do I refer to him as complex? Well, let’s look at his behavior in this week’s parsha. He lived in a city that banned charity and hospitality under the threat of execution. Lot’s own daughter, because she took care of a poor person, was cruelly executed by being smeared with honey and hung in a swarm of bees until stung to death. Yet, when the angels came to Lot’s house, not only did he invite them in, when they demurred it says, “Va’yiftzar bam me’od – He pressed them greatly,” until they accepted.

When they told him about their mission to destroy S’dom and its three million inhabitants, Rashi tells us that he argued on their behalf the entire night. When the mob came and demanded the angels, Lot courageously went out to face them knowing full well that it would be curtains to millions of people if the mob attacked the angels. He even offered his own daughters (perhaps, with their consent), to save the five cities. Ultimately, Lot would succeed in saving the entire city of Tzoar, as Rashsi tells us, “Kol ha’ir atzil big’lalech – I [Hashem] will also save the whole city because of you.” This was something that Avraham’s tefillos could not accomplish. The Gemara in Berachos tells us that when you see the pillar of salt that Lot’s wife was turned into, you make two brachos, “Baruch Dayan haEmes – Blessed is the true Judge,” and “Boruch zocheir haTzadikim – Blessed are those who remember the Righteous.” The blessing of Dayan Emes is said because of the execution of the wife of Lot while the blessing of the remembering of the righteous simply refers to Hashem Who remembers Avraham and saved Lot because of him. We can add that He remembered Dovid, the righteous person who would descend from Lot. And perhaps, we could add that He remembered Lot and his righteous activities.

His hospitality, his attempts to save millions of people, his successful rescue of the city of Tzoar and even, as Rashi points out, when Avraham said about Sarah, “Achosi he – She is my sister,” Lot was quiet and didn’t tell the truth, even though if Avraham had been executed, Lot was the heir apparent. Only Hashem, Who is the True Judge, will ultimately decide Lot’s eternal fate. But let’s remember, it’s a good rule in life to train ourselves to look at people favorably, as it says, “B’tzedek mishpot amisecha – In righteousness you should judge your friend.” And we are rewarded, “Kol hadon es chavero l’kaf zchus, donin oso l’kaf zchus – Whoever judges his friends favorably, Hashem judges him favorably.” In this merit may Hashem bless us with long life, good health, and everything wonderful.

By Rabbi Moshe Elefant

Can you eat a kosher meal heated in a non- kosher airplane oven?

Yes, provided the meal is properly double-wrapped and sealed.

Before the meal is heated in a non-kosher airplane oven, it must be sealed in two layers of wrapping.

The wrapping may consist of materials such as: • Plastic • Aluminum foil • Cardboard The meal must remain double-wrapped and sealed until it is served to you.

If a flight attendant brings you a meal that has already been opened, it may no longer meet the requirements of double wrapping. Without the required protection, the meal should not be eaten.

What if there are holes in the wrapping?

Small holes may be present to allow steam to escape during heating. Rav Belsky, zt”l, held that such holes are permitted because they prevent the package from bursting. The wrapping can still be considered sealed and double-wrapped despite these small openings.

What about rolls, pastries and drinks served with the meal?

Any accompanying food or drinks must have appropriate kosher certification and be served in sealed packaging. This includes rolls, pastries and other items provided with the meal.

Mushrooms: What is the kosher status and its bracha? Since mushrooms are fungi, they are not the seed-bearing plants the Torah allows man to eat. If so, how can they be kosher?

The bracha of a mushroom is shehakol because it does not grow from the ground. Mushrooms are exposed to nutrients that make them grow, They do not grow from the ground and they do not grow on wheat. One of the questions concerning mushrooms is about Pesach. One of the nutrients used to grow mushrooms is wheat, but that wheat does not make the mushroom chametz. It’s the same as a person eating a piece of bread; you don’t become Chametz, rather the chametz is a nutrient for you. The same is true of a mushroom. What you have to be worried about is the canning.

You have to make sure they’re not being canned in the same equipment that is used for meat or non-Kosher products. Therefore, canned mushrooms should only be purchased with a reliable supervision.

By Rabbi Elimelech Biderman

The Maharal writes that the purpose of tests isn’t to let Hashem know where we are holding in our devotion and in our avodas Hashem because Hashem knows this information even before we are tested.

The purpose of the tests is to help us bring forth our potential.

The potential was there beforehand. Tests bring out the potential into action, and that develops one’s personality and spiritual growth. The Ramban writes that there were other tzaddikim in Avraham Avinu’s era who kept the Torah. Still, they didn’t reach Avraham Avinu’s level because they didn’t pass ten nisyonos as Avraham did.

There was a person who suffered from many challenges in his life, and he told his rebbe that he didn’t want the tests. His rebbe told him, “Take three pots filled with water. Cook a potato in one, a raw egg in the second, and put coffee, sugar, and milk in the third.”

An hour later, the rebbe showed him that the raw egg became hard, the hard potato became soft, and the third pot had sweet coffee. The rebbe explained, “The boiling water represents life’s tests. The tests toughen the soft people, soften the tough people, and it can make someone sweet like sweetened coffee.”

This is because people grow from the hardships that they overcome.

The Gemara (Yoma 69:, based on Nechemya h 9) teaches how the chachamim nullified the yetzer hara for avodah zorah. The community fasted for three days and for three nights, and the yetzer hara came out of the Kodesh HaKedashim (Holy of Holies), appearing like a lion of fire. Zecharyah HaNavi told them, “This is the yetzer hara for avodah zorah!” and they captured it. But we wonder, why did the yetzer hara come out of the Kodesh HaKedashim? Why was the yetzer hara in the holiest place in the world?

The answer is, the yetzer hara elevates people to the highest levels – to the Kodesh HaKedashim. The challenges that the yetzer hara poses enable us to grow higher and higher.

Avraham’s first test is Lech Lecha to leave his father’s home to go to Eretz Canaan. The tenth test is that Avraham should go to the akeidah. Both tests state Lech Lecha. The Midrash (Bereishis Rabba 39:9) states, “It says twice Lech Lecha, and we don’t know which is more beloved, the second or the first?”

The Midrash concludes that the second Lech Lecha, of the akeidah, was a greater test, and thus, more beloved to Hashem. But we wonder, isn’t it obvious that the tenth test was more difficult? Which test is greater than offering one’s own child as a korban?

Perhaps the answer is that after Avraham passed many tests, it was easier for him to pass another one. Therefore, the first test of leaving his father’s home could potentially be the hardest test. Nevertheless, the Midrash concludes that the test of the Akeidah was a harder test.

We learn zerizus from Avraham Avinu. By the akeidah, it states (22:3) “Avraham awoke early in the morning.” Also, when Avraham davened for Sedom, it states (19:27) “Avraham awoke early in the morning.” We should do the same. We should get into the mode of serving Hashem early in the morning, and then we will be able to accomplish a lot during the day. Hashem says (Shemos 19:4), “I carried you on eagle wings…” An eagle carries her children on her wings. As the eagle flies high in the sky, the children can look down and see the world below. But how do the birds climb up onto the eagle’s wings? The young birds have to hop on. The mother eagle doesn’t help them. This hints to us that Hashem can raise us to very high levels, but we must take the first step.

By Rabbi Efrem Goldberg

Our phones know our birthdays, social media reminds our friends, Google Calendar sends notifications, and restaurants and retailers celebrate by sending us coupons and special offers. We receive countless birthday wishes, messages, and emojis, sometimes from people we haven’t spoken to in years. We have never had more ways to remember our birthdays, yet perhaps we have never spent less time thinking about what they actually mean.

Of all the billions of people who have ever lived, there has never been and never will be another you. Your personality, talents, challenges, relationships, and circumstances make you absolutely unique. You have your own fingerprint, your own neshama, and your own mission.

The Gemara in Megillah (13b) describes how Haman cast lots to determine the most auspicious time to destroy the Jewish people. When the lot fell in Adar, he was delighted, knowing that Moshe Rabbeinu had died in that month. What he failed to appreciate, says the Gemara, is that Moshe was also born in Adar, on the very same date, the seventh of the month. Haman focused on an ending but overlooked the extraordinary significance of a beginning. The Yerushalmi (Rosh Hashanah 3:8) teaches that on one’s birthday, mazalo goveir, one’s mazal is strengthened. While the precise spiritual significance of mazal is beyond our understanding, clearly the anniversary of our arrival in this world is more than a historical detail. In 1988, the Lubavitcher Rebbe launched a campaign encouraging Jews to celebrate their Hebrew birthdays through increased Torah learning, tefillah, tzedakah, reflection, and spiritual growth. A birthday is not simply the anniversary of our arrival, but the anniversary of Hashem entrusting us with a mission. The Mishnah in Sanhedrin (4:5) teaches that Hashem created Adam as a single individual to impress upon us the infinite value of every life. Bishvili nivra ha’olam, the world was created for me. This is not an invitation to arrogance, but a call to responsibility. If the world was created for me, what am I doing with the extraordinary opportunity of my existence? There is someone you are meant to influence, something you are meant to accomplish, and goodness you are meant to bring into the world that nobody else can deliver in precisely the way you can.

And yet we spend so much time comparing ourselves with others, measuring our careers, families, homes, accomplishments, and even spiritual growth against carefully curated versions of other people’s lives. But Hashem didn’t create us to be somebody else. Our job is not to live someone else’s life better than they do, but to live our own lives as faithfully and purposefully as we can.

This is part of the message of our new project Nishmasi (Nishmasi.org), my soul, my unique relationship with Hashem and my irreplaceable mission. Our fingerprint represents our individuality, but it also unlocks things and leaves an impression. Our birthday should inspire us to consider whether we are unlocking our potential, becoming the best version of ourselves, and leaving the fingerprint on this world that only we can leave.

But Which Birthday Should We Celebrate?

Do you know your Hebrew birthday? Not the Gregorian date on your driver’s license or passport, but the Jewish date on which you entered this world? And if you know it, do you celebrate it?

Consider that Jews of virtually every background and level of observance commemorate the yahrzeit of a loved one according to the Hebrew calendar. We light a candle, say Kaddish, learn Torah, and give tzedakah on the Jewish anniversary of someone’s passing. Yet when it comes to birthdays and wedding anniversaries, even many knowledgeable and observant Jews don’t know, let alone celebrate, their Hebrew dates.

Why are we so careful to remember the Jewish date on which someone left this world, but often neglect to celebrate the Jewish date on which they entered it?

There is nothing wrong with acknowledging a secular birthday, enjoying the cake, presents, and good wishes. But if that is the only birthday we celebrate, we are missing an extraordinary opportunity to reconnect with who we are, why we are here, and what Hashem expects of us. Jewish time is not merely linear, with the past behind us and the future ahead. It is cyclical, or perhaps more accurately, a spiral. We return to the same points on the calendar each year, but we are not the same people. Rosh Hashana offers new beginnings, Pesach the possibility of liberation, and Chanukah the power of light to overcome darkness. We aren’t simply commemorating historical events, but revisiting moments charged with spiritual opportunity, bayamim ha’heim u’vizman hazeh.

What is true of our national calendar is equally true of our personal one. A wedding anniversary invites us to revisit our commitment, a yahrzeit challenges us to perpetuate a loved one’s legacy, and our Hebrew birthday reminds us that Hashem brought us into this world for a reason and continues to give us the opportunity to fulfill it.

Reclaiming Jewish Time and Jewish Identity When we think about assimilation, we tend to picture someone abandoning Jewish observance or distancing themselves from Jewish life. But assimilation can be far more subtle. Sometimes it isn’t about what we abandon, but about allowing the surrounding culture to define our consciousness, priorities, and even our understanding of time.

The Chasam Sofer strongly opposed using secular dates, and while normative halachic practice permits their use, Rav Ovadia Yosef emphasizes the virtue of dating documents according to the Jewish calendar and, when appropriate, including the Hebrew date alongside the secular one. The issue is not whether we are permitted to write October 2026, but which calendar shapes our identity. We have never had more sophisticated tools to organize our lives. Our calendars sync across devices, our watches remind us of appointments, and artificial intelligence can help us manage schedules and commitments. Yet we risk becoming extraordinarily efficient at managing our days while losing sight of what makes those days meaningful. Our calendars tell us where we need to be, but do they remind us who we need to become?

The Midrash teaches that among the merits associated with our ancestors’ redemption from Egypt was their preservation of a distinct identity, maintaining their names and language rather than disappearing into the surrounding culture. Today, we enjoy unprecedented opportunities for participation, achievement, acceptance, and integration, blessings for which we should be grateful, but which also carry the danger of gradually surrendering what makes us distinct.

Since October 7, 2023, we have witnessed a remarkable reawakening of Jewish identity. Jews who previously felt little connection have begun wearing Magen Davids, attending Shabbos dinners, learning Torah, visiting Israel, and seeking a deeper relationship with their people. It is deeply moving, but it also presents a challenge. We cannot allow antisemitism to become the primary force reminding us that we are Jews.

Our enemies should not have more influence over our Jewish identity than our ancestors, our Torah, our traditions, and our relationship with Hashem. We must define ourselves not only by what others think about us or do to us, but by what we believe, cherish, and choose to live. Celebrating our Hebrew birthdays won’t reverse assimilation or defeat antisemitism, but it is one small, accessible, meaningful way to reclaim our identity, not in reaction to hatred, but in celebration of who we are.

Make Your Hebrew Birthday Matter

If you don’t know your Hebrew birthday, find out. It takes only seconds using an online Hebrew date converter, though because the Jewish day begins at sunset, the time of your birth can affect the date. Put it in your calendar with an annual reminder, and then find out the Hebrew birthdays of your spouse, children, grandchildren, parents, and those closest to you. Imagine calling our children on their Hebrew birthdays, not simply to wish them a happy birthday, but to remind them how much they matter, how proud we are of who they are becoming, and how much goodness they have to contribute. Imagine parents using that occasion to share the unique qualities they see in each child and the difference those qualities can make in the world. What greater gift can we give a child than the confidence that they are loved, valued, and here for a reason? And imagine if we used our own Hebrew birthdays for a little personal accounting, reflecting on the year that has passed and the year ahead. The Lubavitcher Rebbe encouraged increasing Torah study, giving extra tzedakah, spending additional time in tefillah, and reflecting on our spiritual progress. Give tzedakah in gratitude for your blessings, learn something extra, say a chapter of Tehillim, reach out to someone who needs encouragement, or simply take a few moments to thank Hashem for the gift of life.

Most importantly, ask yourself what you are grateful for, where you need to grow, and what one concrete thing you can do this coming year to better fulfill your unique mission. Rather than making twenty resolutions that will be forgotten within a week, choose one meaningful commitment, whether a relationship to strengthen, a mitzvah to improve, a habit to develop, or an act of kindness to make part of your routine.

Perhaps the greatest birthday gift we can give ourselves is not something we buy, but a commitment to live more intentionally, love more generously, worry less, trust Hashem more, and stop postponing what matters most. Whatever your age, circumstances, or chapter of life, Hashem continues to give you the gift of time because there is still something meaningful for you to do with it. We are careful to remember the Hebrew date on which someone left this world, and we should be equally careful to celebrate the Hebrew date on which someone entered it.

Your phone can tell you when you were born, but only you can answer what you are doing with the life Hashem gave you. Don’t just celebrate the day you entered the world, but the difference you were created to make in it. Don’t know your Hebrew birthday? Find it using the Hebrew Birthday Calculator, add it to your calendar, and make this the year you begin celebrating it with purpose.

By Rabbi Shay Tahan

A fascinating question was once brought before Rabbi Arye Zvi Frumer, author of Eretz Zvi. In one city, a man was unhappy with a particular shul and wanted to force it to close. To accomplish this, he rented the floor above the shul and turned it into a filthy place, hoping that the congregation would be unable to continue praying below. His plan was based on the ruling of the Taz, who discusses the danger of living above a shul, although other poskim disagree with his position and permit it under certain circumstances.

The man’s reasoning was that the filth above the shul would prevent the prayers from ascending to Heaven. Rabbi Frumer, however, explained that the congregation had nothing to fear. Their prayers did not ascend directly upward from the shul; rather, they were directed toward Eretz Yisrael, from where they could ascend to Heaven.

This response reflects a profound idea discussed by several great Torah authorities: the prayers of Jews throughout the world are directed toward Eretz Yisrael and Yerushalayim, ultimately reaching the site of the Beit Hamikdash, where the heavenly gate is located.

Rabbi Yosef Gikatilla, one of the great masters of Kabbalah who lived centuries before the Arizal, discusses this concept in his sefer Sha’arei Orah. He explains that prayers offered in the Diaspora face spiritual obstacles because the Jewish people live under the dominion of the nations and their appointed spiritual ministers. He writes that the gates of Heaven are in Eretz Yisrael and that prayers offered outside the Land must be directed toward Yerushalayim, from where they ascend on high.

Rabbi Gikatilla connects this idea to the conduct of Daniel, who continued to face Yerushalayim when praying even while living in exile. The pasuk states: “His windows were open in his upper chamber toward Yerushalayim” (Daniel 6:11).

Daniel’s conduct reflects the principle established by Shlomo Hamelech when he inaugurated the Beit Hamikdash: even when the Jewish people find themselves far from their homeland, they should direct their prayers toward the holy city.

Rabbi Yeshayah Halevi Horowitz, known as the Shelah Hakadosh, develops this concept in his siddur, Sha’ar Hashamayim. He offers an interpretation of the expression satam tefilatenu, which describes our prayers as being blocked or closed. The Shelah notes that although the word satum ordinarily means closed, the way the word is written with a shin allows for an interpretation associated with openness, as indicated by its use in other contexts. He explains that this alludes to the fact that the gates of Heaven are not equally accessible from every place; Eretz Yisrael has a special connection to the heavenly gate through which prayers ascend.

According to the Shelah, prayer offered in the Diaspora does not ascend through the same direct spiritual path as prayer offered in Eretz Yisrael. Since the Diaspora is under the dominion of spiritual ministers, he explains, the proper course is to direct one’s prayer toward Eretz Yisrael, then toward Yerushalayim and the site of the Beit Hamikdash, and ultimately toward the Kodesh Hakodashim, through the heavenly gate.

In the introduction to Sha’ar Hashamayim, the Shelah emphasizes that this principle applies not only to the inhabitants of Yerushalayim, but to the entire Jewish people: “This is the Gate of Heaven, the gate through which prayers ascend. This matter does not apply only to the prayers of those who dwell in Yerushalayim, but to the entire community, for the prayers of all the exiles of Israel ascend through the Gate of Heaven.”

Rabbi Yaakov Emden expresses a similar idea in the introduction to his siddur. He explains that although the Shechinah is present everywhere, prayer offered outside Eretz Yisrael does not ascend along a single, direct path. Rather, it must be directed toward Eretz Yisrael and Yerushalayim, toward the place of the Beit Hamikdash, opposite which stands the heavenly gate that Yaakov Avinu saw in his prophetic vision. Rabbi Emden supports this concept with the words of Shlomo Hamelech, who prayed that the Jewish people should direct their prayers toward their Land, and with Daniel’s practice of praying while facing Yerushalayim. He concludes by urging the reader to keep the holy city before his eyes and to envision himself standing before Hashem in the Beit Hamikdash, before the Aron Hakodesh. These teachings reveal the profound significance of directing our prayers toward Yerushalayim. According to these great Torah authorities, this is not merely a matter of physical orientation. It reflects the spiritual connection between the Jewish people, Eretz Yisrael, and the place where the Shechinah rests.

When a Jew stands in prayer thousands of miles from Yerushalayim, he is not spiritually disconnected from the holy city. By directing his prayer toward Yerushalayim and the site of the Beit Hamikdash, he expresses his connection to the place through which, according to these teachings, the prayers of the entire Jewish people ascend to Heaven. Thus, the poskim instruct us to direct our prayers toward Yerushalayim. But how is this accomplished? There is a machloket among the authorities. Some maintain that one must physically face toward Yerushalayim, while others emphasize that one should focus his heart and imagine himself standing in the Beit Hamikdash as he prays. Lehalachah, one should do both: face toward Yerushalayim and direct his heart toward the Beit Hamikdash.

The Mishnah Berurah (beginning of siman 98) writes that this intention should be contemplated before beginning the tefillah, but not during the actual prayer, since one must concentrate on the words he is reciting.

By Rabbi Moishe Dovid Lebovits

Turning Pages

Throughout our lives, we spend a lot of time davening. From the time we are young children until we grow old, tefillah is part of our daily routine. We daven three times a day, and on Shabbos and Yom Tov we add additional tefillos. But how often do we stop and think about what we are doing? Why do we daven? What is the purpose of tefillah? Why does Hashem want us to ask Him for things when He already knows what we need?

These are important questions because tefillah is not supposed to be something we simply do out of habit. We are supposed to understand that when we daven, we are standing before Hashem and speaking directly to Him.

Davening as a Yoke

For many people, davening can sometimes feel like a burden. We arrive at shul, open the siddur, and begin saying the words. We may be thinking about what we have to do afterward, what happened earlier that day, or what is going on in our lives.

But imagine if someone told you that you were going to have an opportunity to speak personally with an important person who could help you with anything. Would you rush through the conversation without paying attention?

The truth is that Hashem is available to us at every moment. We do not need an appointment. We do not need an introduction. We can speak to Him whenever we want. One of the first things we have to understand about tefillah is that we are not simply reciting words. We are communicating with Hashem. So perhaps we should ask ourselves a simple question: What is the reason you come to shul?

Understanding the Words

Imagine picking up a newspaper written entirely in Chinese. You could look at the pages and recognize that there are words and sentences, but you would have no idea what they mean.

Unfortunately, sometimes people daven in a similar way. They say the words of the siddur but do not understand what they are saying. This is one of the reasons it is so important to learn the meaning of the words we say every day. We spend years learning Torah and going to yeshivah, but how much time do we spend learning the meaning of the tefillos that we say every day?

Our rebbeim and teachers have the opportunity to teach us these things when we are young, but we should also continue learning as adults.

When else should we start learning what the words of our tefillos mean if not now? The more we understand, the more meaningful our davening can become.

A Different Kind of Tefillah

There is another question that many people have about tefillah: If Hashem already knows everything, including exactly what we need, why do we have to ask Him?

If Hashem knows that someone is sick, He knows that person needs a refuah. If someone needs parnassah, Hashem already knows that. If someone is looking for a shidduch, Hashem knows that as well.

So why do we have to ask?

Imagine two young orphans who have been taken in by a wealthy person. He tells them that he will provide them with everything they need. He will give them food, clothing and a place to live. They have nothing to worry about.

One child accepts everything without saying much. The other child develops a close relationship with the person who took him in. He speaks to him, thanks him and asks him for things.

Which child has the closer relationship? The point of tefillah is not simply to tell Hashem something He does not know. Tefillah is about developing a relationship with Him. It is similar to having a cell phone. You may know that someone is always available to you, but unless you actually call that person, there is no conversation. Tefillah is our way of calling Hashem.

A Divine Present

Tefillah is one of the greatest gifts Hashem has given us. He allows us to speak directly to Him and ask Him for whatever we need. There is a famous concept that when we ask Hashem for something, we are not changing His knowledge. Rather, Hashem created a world in which tefillah is one of the ways through which things are accomplished. The Kli Yakar discusses the idea of ribbis, interest, and explains that a person should recognize that everything he has comes from Hashem. We are required to do our part, but ultimately everything comes from Him. Tefillah helps us recognize this. Imagine a farmer who plants seeds in the ground. He works hard. He prepares the field, plants the seeds and takes care of the crops. But he cannot make the seeds grow. He cannot create the rain or make the sun shine. He has to do his part and then recognize that the results are in Hashem’s hands. That is the balance we are supposed to have in life.

From the beginning of creation, Hashem established this concept. The Torah tells us that before Adam was created, the earth had not yet produced vegetation because there was no rain. Rashi explains that Adam was created so that he would recognize the need to ask for rain and daven for it.

This teaches us something fundamental. Hashem could have created the world in a way that everything happened automatically. Instead, He created a world in which we need to turn to Him.

The same idea applies to trees and vegetation. We may plant and water, but we cannot make something grow. We can do what is necessary, but the final result comes from Hashem. Tefillah reminds us of that reality.

Nothing Without Tefillah

Chazal teach us that there is almost nothing in life that a person should take for granted. We need Hashem’s help for everything. We daven for health, parnassah, children, shidduchim, success and countless other things. We even ask Hashem to help us with matters that may seem small.

Moshe Rabbeinu himself had a speech impediment and asked Hashem for help. If Moshe Rabbeinu, who reached the highest levels of spirituality, needed to daven, certainly we do.

Think of a king and his servant. The servant may know that the king cares about him, but he still has to approach the king when he needs something. The act of asking creates a connection between them.

Another way to understand this is to imagine a house filled with valuable items. The owner tells you that you may have whatever you need, but you have to come to him and ask for the key to the room where the item is kept. The owner could simply give you everything without your asking. But he wants you to come to him.

Tefillah is that key.

Being Honest

Rav Avigdor Miller zt”l often spoke about the importance of being honest with Hashem in our tefillos.

We should ask Hashem for health. We should ask Him for parnassah. We should ask Him for happiness. But we should also recognize that we do not always know what is truly good for us.

A person can therefore say, in essence: “Ribono Shel Olam, please give me this only if it is good for me.”

Sometimes we are convinced that something will make us happy, when in reality it may be harmful to us. Hashem sees the entire picture; we see only a small part of it.

There is a Gemara that describes a person who came to visit someone who was ill. The visitor might think that he knows exactly what the sick person needs, but Hashem knows what is truly best.

This is one of the great lessons of tefillah. We are encouraged to ask for what we want, but we should never forget that Hashem knows better than we do.

That does not mean we should daven without passion. Quite the opposite. We should ask Hashem sincerely and honestly, while recognizing that the ultimate decision is His.

Doing Our Part

Understanding tefillah does not mean that we stop making an effort.

A person cannot sit at home and say, “I have bitachon, so I don’t have to work.” At the same time, a person should not think that everything depends entirely on his own efforts.

We have to do our part and then turn to Hashem.

Imagine a person who sees a well and wants water. He cannot simply stand near the well and expect the water to jump into his cup. He has to lower the bucket, draw up the water and bring it to himself.

But where did the water come from? The person did his part, but the water was already there.

This is how we should view hishtadlus and tefillah. We are required to make an effort, but we must remember that the results come from Hashem.

This is also why coming to shul on time is so important. When we rush through davening or arrive late, we are missing an opportunity to stand before Hashem and ask Him for what we need.

Tefillah and hishtadlus are not opposites. They work together.

The Chazon Ish emphasizes the importance of a person’s actions, while also recognizing the role of teshuvah, tefillah and tzedakah. We have to act, but we also have to recognize that our success is ultimately determined by Hashem.

The goal is not simply to finish davening. The goal is to understand what we are doing. Every time we open a siddur, we have an opportunity to speak to Hashem. Every word can strengthen our relationship with Him. If we understand that, tefillah will no longer feel like a burden. It will become one of the greatest opportunities of our day.

By Rabbi Reuven and Shira Boshnack

Good morning, Rabbi Reuven and Shira Boshnack, I came across your article in The Jewish Views, and I was wondering if you’d perhaps be able to steer me in the right direction: I have cochlear implants to assist my hearing. Since starting shidduchim approximately a decade ago, nearly all of them have been one and done deals where the girls ended it off before I would have a say. This is despite doing the obvious: dressing my best, taking the girls to appropriate first date spots (mostly cafes), and having introductory conversations.

On the rare occasions that I did make a mistake, I was made aware of such as to prevent its repetition, otherwise, I’d receive the infamous “he’s not for me”, which really isn’t feedback at all. I’d appreciate your help. Thanks, Not for me

Dear “Not for me,” We’re sorry to hear that you’re having such difficulty. We consulted with a frum audiologist in the New York City area to help us with our response.

So first, the more hearing loss awareness grows this will hopefully be less of an issue; the more people who know someone with hearing loss realize they are just as lovable and uniquely capable as other people. As we say, it’s very important to be in conversation with a Shadchan, to explain that there are levels of hearing loss and functioning with implants and not everyone can be categorized the same. They need to know that Hearing loss is usually not part of a greater medical condition and does not affect intelligence. Many people wear implants and function beautifully with totally normal relationships and jobs.

It would be good to have a strong friend reference who can explain how you manage overall or if their disability even hinders them at all, so people don’t make worse assumptions. As well they should know that Ashkenazi jews are at a higher risk for being born with hearing loss since this is a recessive gene. Most babies with HL are born to normal hearing parents and also conversely because it’s recessive many people with HL give birth to children with normal hearing. Genetic testing can be attempted to figure out if the other party is a carrier and determine if this is even something to “worry” about or not.

You write that the shadchanim do not provide you with adequate feedback. If they cannot present reasonable feedback, then find other shadchanim who can. Finally, it’s important to keep in mind that the process of shidduchim can be difficult, and not everyone finds their match quickly. Every experience which we have is part of the road which leads us to becoming our completed selves.

You will meet a lot of people who are closed minded, or just not the right fit for you. In the end, you’ll meet the right one. We wish you hatzlacha on this journey, and encourage you to reach out again with further questions!

Rabbi Reuven and Shira Boshnack

By Rabbi Gil Student

Imagine that medical science advances to the point where doctors can replace a human brain with an artificial one.

The replacement is an extraordinarily sophisticated computer that performs every function of the original brain. It uploads and preserves the patient’s memories, personality and intellectual abilities. After the operation, he recognizes his family, continues his work and behaves exactly as he did before. Is he still the same person? This possibility, one form of transhumanism, raises an important question about the nature of human identity. As artificial organs become increasingly sophisticated, we can imagine replacing a heart, lungs, limbs and eventually even the brain. At what point would a human being cease to be human and become a machine? I suggest that Jewish tradition offers a way to approach this question by distinguishing between the spiritual soul and the physical body and organs through which it operates.

I. The Soul Fills the Body

The Gemara (Berachos 10a) discusses five occasions when King David says, “Bless the Lord, my soul” (Ps. 104:1). The Sages explain that David offered these five praises because of five similarities between G-d and the human soul. Just as G-d fills the entire world, the soul fills the entire body. Both see without being seen, sustain what they inhabit, are pure, and dwell in the innermost chambers. The Gemara concludes that the soul, which possesses these characteristics, should praise G-d, Who likewise possesses them. For our purposes, this particular comparison is important: G-d is present throughout the universe, yet no physical object contains Him. His presence does not make Him part of the physical substance of the universe. Similarly, the soul fills and sustains the body, but is not contained in any specific organ or even the entire body. The soul exists outside of the body which it fills.

Rabbenu Bachya ben Asher (14th cen., Spain) quotes this Gemara and explains that just like G-d’s presence is particularly strong in certain places like Mt. Sinai and Jerusalem, He still can be found anywhere in the world. Similarly, the soul manifests itself particularly in the brain, heart and tongue but nevertheless fills the entire body, and every organ contains some manifestation of its power. Despite that presence in the body, the soul is separate from it. Any defects in the body do not exist in the pure soul because it is separate from the body (Kad HaKemach, Avel, section 3).

Rav Yitzchak Arama (15th cen., Italy) similarly explains the Gemara’s comparison between G-d and the soul. The soul’s existence is evident because its influence extends throughout the body, yet its essence cannot be perceived through the physical senses. Even the Gemara’s statement that the soul dwells in the innermost chambers refers to the difficulty of understanding its nature. The soul is known through its effects, while its essential nature remains hidden from human understanding (Akeidas Yitzchak, Emor, no. 68).

II. The Body as an Instrument

Rav Meir Leibush Weiser (Malbim; 19th cen., Ukraine) develops this distinction in Artzos Ha-Shalom (derush 3), a discussion he revisits in his commentary to Song of Songs (3:10). He describes the soul’s powers as constituting the essence of the human being, while the body and its organs serve as garments through which those powers operate. The intellectual soul has its principal dwelling place in the head, while other faculties are associated with the heart and lower organs. Malbim explains this further in his commentary to the Torah (Gen. 2:7). The higher soul is one in its essence, but it manifests different powers according to the physical instruments through which it operates. He associates intellectual activity with the brain, vitality with the heart and nourishment with the lower organs. The manifestation of these powers depends upon the condition of the physical instruments.

Returning to the case of an artificial brain, if the natural brain is an instrument through which the soul exercises its intellectual powers, replacing that instrument need not mean replacing the soul. The artificial brain allows the person to think, remember and communicate, just as an artificial heart allows blood to circulate. The spiritual identity of the person remains distinct from the machinery that makes these activities possible.

III. The Soul Beyond Matter

Rambam (12th cen., Egypt) distinguishes between the spiritual soul and the faculties that depend upon the physical body. In Moreh Nevuchim (part 1, ch.

70), he explains that the word “soul” has different meanings. The soul that animates a person at birth is a faculty of life, while the soul that survives death has an independent existence. He similarly distinguishes the ability to think, which operates through the body, from the acquired intellect, which can exist independently of it (ibid., ch. 72).

Rambam likewise expresses this distinction in Mishneh Torah (Hilchos Yesodei HaTorah 4:9), where he describes the higher intellectual form of the human soul as independent of physical matter: “This form of the soul is not composed of the elements.” It comes from G-d and does not perish when the body decomposes. Similarly, later in Mishneh Torah (Hilchos Teshuvah 8:2– 3), Rambam explains that in the World to Come, the souls of the righteous exist without physical bodies. The enduring spiritual soul therefore does not require the continued existence of the brain or any other organ.

From a kabbalistic perspective, Rav Chaim Volozhiner (19th cen., Belarus) distinguishes three levels of the soul, commonly called nefesh, ruach and neshamah. These represent different dimensions of spiritual life and have different relationships with the physical body (Nefesh HaChaim, sec. 1, ch. 15). He explains their relationship through the analogy of a glassblower. The breath passes from the glassblower’s mouth through a tube into molten glass. The lowest spiritual level, nefesh, resides within the body, while ruach connects the body with a higher spiritual source. The essential neshamah, however, ordinarily remains beyond the body. Its actual essence does not enter the human body at all, although its spiritual influence extends into the person.

Rav Chaim further explains that references to the soul residing in the brain concern the radiance of the neshamah that illuminates the person’s brain and intellect. They do not refer to the essence of the neshamah itself, which remains outside the body. It follows that the replacement of a biological brain with an artificial one would not necessarily remove the soul, because the soul was never physically contained within the original brain.

IV. Would the Person Remain Human?

Returning to our hypothetical patient with an artificial brain, he has an artificial system that preserves his memories, personality and ability to think. He continues to recognize his family, fulfill his responsibilities and behave as he always did. Has he become a machine because his brain is now a machine? The soul is spiritual, while the brain is an organ through which some of the soul’s powers are expressed. If a person’s essential soul remains associated with him, replacing the brain would not, by itself, eliminate his humanity. However, when a person dies, his soul leaves the body with which it was associated. The Torah describes Rachel’s death while giving birth to Binyamin: “And it came to pass, as her soul was departing, for she died” (Gen. 35:18). The Gemara (Shabbos 152b) describes how after a person dies, his soul ascends and descends for twelve months and then permanently leaves earth.

Therefore, the association of a soul with a body depends on whether the person is alive. The halachic definition of death is a hotly debated subject that need not detain us here. Ultimately, the status of someone with an artificial brain depends on whether that person remains alive or becomes the walking dead.

By Rabbi Aryeh Lebowitz

Then Avraham took his son Yishmael, and all his homeborn slaves and all those he had bought, every male in Avraham’s household, and he circumcised the flesh of their foreskins on that very day, as G-d had spoken to him. And Avraham was ninety-nine years old when he circumcised the flesh of his foreskin. ~ Bereishis 17:23-24 The Source

The concept of a sandek, the honor to hold the baby during a bris, goes back to Chazal and the Torah itself. According to the midrash (Tehillim 35), when Avraham Avinu attempted to give himself a bris, he was trembling to the extent that Hashem had to hold him down and assist him. In doing so, Hashem actually became the very first sandek in history. Similarly, Targum Yonasan (Bereishis 50:23) explains that when the Torah describes that the children of Ephraim and Menashe were born on the lap of Yosef, the intention is that they rested on his lap shortly after they were born, as he served as their sandek. Midrash Tehillim (35) lists the various mitzvos that Dovid HaMelech did with the different parts of his body and states that he used his knees to serve as a sandek.

Bereishis Rabbah (47:7) recounts that when Avraham circumcised all the males in his household and left the foreskins exposed to the sun, the resulting aroma was so pleasing to Hashem that it was likened to the fragrance of the ketores and a korban olah, both of which are entirely consumed by fire when offered. This comparison between the act of facilitating a bris milah and the offering of ketores forms the basis for several minhagim associated with sandeka’us. One such custom, cited by the Rema (265:11) from the Maharil, dictates that an individual should not serve as a sandek more than once. This practice mirrors the ruling in the Gemara (Yoma 26a), which states that a kohen was not allowed to offer the ketores more than once because it is a segulah for wealth, and the opportunity was spread among as many kohanim as possible.

Similarly, serving as a sandek is also considered a segulah for wealth, so the honor is traditionally given to different individuals to distribute this blessing widely.

A Practical Objection and Other Possible Sources

The Vilna Gaon (Bei’ur HaGra 265:46) rejects the explanation that we limit a person from being a sandek more than once because it has the power to bestow wealth and we want to spread that blessing. Indeed, the Vilna Gaon writes that we do not observe that those who serve as sandek subsequently accumulate more wealth. Rather, he posits that the reason for this practice is based on the tzva’ah of Rav Yehuda HaChasid (35), and is mystical in origin. The Aruch HaShulchan (265:34) also cites the tzava’ah of Rav Yehuda HaChasid, but adds that the original source of this minhag is Rabbeinu Peretz, who was also known to be an expert in the hidden areas of Torah. Thus, the Aruch HaShulchan similarly assumes that the true reasons for this minhag are kabbalistic in nature, and not based on a comparison to the ketores. He suggests that the Rema also knew the kabbalistic reason but cited the comparison to ketores because he didn’t want to explicitly make a halachic ruling based on mystical sources.

The Noda B’Yehuda (1:86) offers a different perspective on the practice in response to a question regarding whether it is permissible to have the same person serve as sandek for a second son if no one else is deemed worthy of the honor. He explains, based on the Gemara, that the offering of the ketores was a segulah for wealth because it was an exceedingly rare honor, performed only twice a day for the entire Jewish people. In contrast, serving as a sandek is a common occurrence, happening thousands of times daily, and therefore does not carry the same potential to bestow wealth. As such, the custom of not serving as a sandek more than once cannot be rooted in financial considerations.

Instead, the Noda B’Yehuda suggests that this practice is analogous to the halacha that one should not give all his terumah to a single kohen but rather distribute it among many kohanim. The Gemara (Eruvin 63) states that giving all of one’s terumah to the same kohen brings aniyus (poverty) into the world, as it leaves other kohanim without any support. Similarly, the honor and zechus of being a sandek should be shared among as many people as possible, rather than repeatedly bestowing it upon the same individual.

Practical Differences Between the Reasons

The Beis Hillel (commentary on Shulchan Aruch Yoreh Deah 265:3) writes that the entire custom is only that one family should not honor the same person with being sandek more than once among their children. However, if someone served as sandek for a child from one family, he is not restricted from serving as sandek again for a child from another family. This position would seem to make more sense according to the Noda B’Yehuda’s reasoning that one should not give all his matnos kehuna to one kohen. There is certainly no objection to multiple families giving some of their matanos to the same kohen, and similarly multiple families may honor the same person with being sandek. However, if the comparison to the ketores is the source of the custom, once a person has served as a sandek, he should never do so again even for a different family. Nevertheless, the Beis Hillel writes that even according to the Rema, different families may ask the same person to be sandek.

The Chasam Sofer (O.C. 158) strongly supports the Rema’s reasoning and disagrees with the Noda B’Yehuda and the Aruch HaShulchan (ibid.). This is based on the prevailing practice in some communities where the city’s rav serves as the sandek at every bris. This practice can be explained based on the Rema’s perspective, which equates being a sandek with offering the ketores. While a regular kohen could not offer the ketores more than once, the kohen gadol had the privilege of offering the ketores whenever he wished. Similarly, the rav of the town holds a position similar to that of the kohen gadol, allowing him to serve as a sandek without limitations. According to the Noda B’Yehuda, however, the prohibition of giving all of one’s matanos to a single kohen applies to the kohen gadol as well. Therefore, there would be no basis to make an exception for a rav.

The Chacham Tzvi (74) writes that although in general a person may not give all his matanos to one kohen, an individual is permitted to give everything to a kohen who is a relative or very close friend. Based on this, the Yad Shaul rules that one can honor a family member to be sandek more than once. This logic assumes the understanding of the Noda B’Yehuda, but would not follow from the explanation of the Rema, since there are no family dispensations for ketores. The Teshuvos Beis Dovid (122) records a practice that some communities restrict people from serving as a sandek more than once a year, but if a year has passed, they may again serve as sandek. The passage of a year would not make any difference according to the Rema, as a kohen could not offer the ketores again even after a year. However, according to the Noda B’Yehuda’s reasoning it does make sense to allow someone to be sandek again after a year, just as someone could give his matanos to a kohen one year and then do so again the next year.

Although the common practice is to follow the Rema and limit people from serving as sandek more than once, the Noda B’Yehuda notes that this is not the strongest or most important minhag, and one may be lenient if the situation should arise or if a particular place has not established the practice.

By Rabbi Dr. Yaakov Abramovitz

“Each person according to his praise” (Mishlei 27:21)

Most commentaries explain this proverb to mean that a person’s true character is reflected in the qualities for which others praise him. We may think of ourselves as generous, thoughtful, or compassionate, but our lasting impact is ultimately determined by how those around us describe us. The legacy we leave is written in the words of others. This is the classic understanding of the verse (see Rashi and Metzudos, ad loc.). Rabbeinu Yonah (Avos 4:6), however, offers a strikingly different interpretation. A person’s character can also be measured by what he himself praises. What excites him? What captures his attention? What does he naturally admire?

Rav Avigdor Miller zt”l applied this idea to Parshas Lech Lecha. When Avraham arrived in Mitzrayim, the Torah relates that the Egyptians saw Sarah’s extraordinary beauty and immediately “praised her to Pharaoh” (Bereishis 12:15). Their reaction revealed far more than Sarah’s appearance. It revealed the values of Egyptian society. This was a culture captivated by physical beauty and driven by desire. Their praise exposed their vain priorities.

Rav Miller would often point out that the same principle applies to individuals. After an uplifting shaleshudos, one person talks about the Dvar Torah. Another can’t stop thinking about the zemiros. A third raves about the herring. “Each person according to his praise.”

Our spontaneous excitement often reveals more about us than our carefully chosen words.

Most of us would say that we value family, Torah, kindness, and spiritual growth. But is that reflected in how – and about what – we speak? What is the first bit of “news from shul” we share at the Shabbos table? Which parts of our week do we enthusiastically talk about with our families? What achievements of others impress us? Where does our attention naturally gravitate? Our praise is like a mirror. It reflects the priorities that quietly shape our lives.

That realization is not meant to discourage us – it is meant to empower us. If our excitement is directed toward the wrong things, we are not condemned to remain that way. The more we invest ourselves in Torah, mitzvos, meaningful relationships, and acts of chessed, the more our hearts begin to celebrate those things naturally. Over time, our praise changes because we have changed. “Each person according to his praise.” If we want to know who we are becoming, we need only listen to what comes out of our own mouths.

By Rabbi Joey Haber

We read in Parashat Lech-Lecha of the war that Avraham Avinu waged against the kings who had captured his nephew, Lot. After winning this war, Avraham was greeted by a man named Malkitzedek, who brought him food and wine to celebrate this victory. The Midrash quotes two opinions regarding the real purpose of Malkitzedek’s meeting with Avraham. According to one opinion, Malkitzedek was revealing to Avraham the “secret” of the position of the kohen gadol who served in the Bet Ha’midash. According to the other opinion, Malkitzedek was revealing to Avraham the “secret” of Torah.

This entire discussion seems very mysterious. What are these “secrets” being shown to Avraham Avinu?

The Kedushat Levi explains that the Midrash here is actually telling us about the two ways in which a person is to serve Hashem, depending on the situation, which the Kedushat Levi calls Yesh and Ein.

Yesh means “there is,” and refers to serving Hashem when a person who has a lot going on, a lot of mitzvot to do. Let’s imagine a person who is blessed with a large family, children and grandchildren, a successful business, and friends. He is busy serving Hashem in a state of Yesh– caring for and spending time with his wife, children and grandchildren, giving charity, helping people, involving himself in important community affairs, and so on. Unfortunately, however, some people are in a state of Ein, “without,” lacking all these blessings. It could be somebody who is getting older but has yet to find a marriage partner, or somebody in a troubled family situation. It could be somebody who hasn’t had a job in several years and faces dire financial straits. It could be somebody who is going through a medical crisis, or a mental health crisis, and cannot function properly – or the family member of such a person. These situations do not lend themselves to the kind of flurry of mitzvah activity that characterizes the fellow in a situation of Yesh.

The Kedushat Levi explains that the Yesh person has many wonderful opportunities to serve Hashem – but there’s a disadvantage to this service of Hashem, in that there is some ego and pride involved. The person feels accomplished and successful. He looks at his wealth, his beautiful family, and all the mitzvot he is able to do, and he feels proud and takes credit – sometimes forgetting to give Hashem the credit for all his accomplishments.

The Ein person, however, has no such challenge. He is able to build a true, genuine connection with Hashem, because he recognizes that he is entirely dependent on Him. The Ein person turns to Hashem and says, “I can’t do all that much, but I want to build my relationship with You. I have no family to care for, I have no enterprise or charity organizations to run, I don’t have so many opportunities to do amazing things – but I’m serving You by praying, by connecting, by turning to You, by believing in You.”

Avraham Avinu, for many years, faced the quintessential Ein reality. I imagine that if I were in Avraham’s shoes, I would have just given up. His father brought him to the authorities to have him executed. He miraculously survived, and many years later, at the age of 75, he was told to leave to an unknown land. When he got there, he faced a dire famine, forcing him to go to Egypt, where his wife was abducted. Not long thereafter he needed to fight a war to rescue his nephew. Meanwhile, his wife could not conceive. In the end, of course, Avraham becomes fabulously wealthy, well-respected, and the father of G-d’s chosen nation. For decades, Avraham served Hashem in a situation of Ein, until he was ultimately able to serve Hashem in a situation of Yesh.

The Kedushat Levi explains that this is what the Midrash is alluding to. Avraham was shown the “secret” of the kohen gadol, who did the service in the Bet Ha’mikdash, representing self-sacrifice. The kohen gadol had no land or property, but he devoted himself entirely to Hashem. He symbolizes serving Hashem with “nothing.” But Avraham was also shown that his life would become one of the “secret” of Torah, a life of outstanding spiritual achievement, of Yesh, where he is able to serve Hashem with a great number of blessings and good fortune.

In the beginning of our parashah, the Torah makes a point of informing us that Avraham was 75 years old when he left his homeland to live in Eretz Yisrael. This perhaps alludes to the fact that all Avraham had at that point in his life was his Bitachon, his trust in Hashem, which in gematria equals 75 (2+9+8+6+50). He was in a position of Ein, and he served Hashem in that state, by building a strong connection with Him.

There is a young woman in our community who, after several years of dating, was still not married, and she asked to meet with me to speak about her situation. She expressed her anguish and how she just didn’t know what to do.

I advised her to give this problem over to Hashem. I said she needed to tell Hashem, “I don’t know what to do, so I’m leaving this in Your infinitely capable hands. I will, of course, continue to recite Tehillim each day, and to reach out to matchmakers, because I need to make an effort, but I’m giving this over to You.”

Baruch Hashem, around a year later, she got married. She told me before the wedding that she felt so much better when she came out of our meeting, being able to let go of this challenge. And a week later, her chatan showed up… We hope and pray that we are always blessed with Yesh, with an abundance of happiness, prosperity and success in all our endeavors. But if we ever find ourselves in a situation of Ein, let us draw strength and inspiration from our ancestor, from Avraham Avinu, who served Hashem even when he had nothing, with his Bitachon, by developing his faith in Hashem and his connection with Him. When we face challenges, we must try to acknowledge that now Hashem wants us to serve Him in this way, by focusing on our Bitachon, on our unwavering faith and trust in His goodness, and working to build a stronger relationship with Him.

By Rabbi Yissocher Frand

After the war involving the King of Sodom (among others), “the escapee came and told Avram that Lot was captured” [Bereishis 14:13]. There is a Rabbinic tradition that this escapee was Og, the future King of Bashan, who actually ‘escaped’ from the Flood by holding on to the back of the Ark. However, the Rabbis attribute sinister and diabolic intentions to Og’s deed. Rather than merely wishing to participate in the meritorious act of redeeming captives, Og really wished to take Sarah for himself. His plan was to draw Avram into a hopeless battle of trying to rescue Lot, have Avram die in battle, and then take Avram’s widow — Sarah — for himself.

Nonetheless, the Talmud tells us [Niddah 61a] that many years later, G-d had to reassure Moshe prior to his battle with Og. Moshe feared that in the merit of Og delivering the message of Lot’s capture to Avram, Og would be protected now in his battle against the Jewish people. Rav Leib Chassman points out, based on Moshe’s concern, that the Torah gives significant credit to even a small, imperfect, mitzvah. This small good deed of Og was performed with the worst of motives. Chessed (kindness) was the furthest thing from Og’s mind. Og had diabolical motives. However, since Og was in fact responsible for the rescue of Lot, Moshe was afraid to fight against him hundreds of years later.

This is a great lesson regarding the power of a single mitzvah.

I will relate a true story that may help to bring this lesson down to our own level. The incident involved a family named Hiller — a husband, a wife, and a small boy named Shachneh, who lived in Krakow in 1942. At that time, the Germans were drafting able-bodied people into work details. Those that were strong were able to survive; children, as a general rule could not make it. The family had a dilemma — what to do with their little son.

The situation deteriorated to such an extent that they realized that their only option was to give their son to a non-Jewish family whom they knew in Krakow, named Yakovitch. This was a childless family — friends, whom they trusted. They decided to take the drastic move of giving over little Shachneh to this family. On the night of November 15, 1942, Mrs. Hiller — at risk to her life — walked through the Jewish Quarter of Krakow to the non-Jewish Quarter of Krakow, and brought her child to her friend, Mrs. Yakovitch. Mrs. Hiller said, “If we ever make it through the war, please return our child to us; but if we do not make it through the war, here are two letters — addressed to relatives in Montreal and Washington, DC. When this terrible war is over, please contact them and they will take Shachneh. We ask only one thing, that he be raised as a Jew. As fate had it, the Hillers were killed in the Holocaust. Mrs. Yakovitch raised the child as her own. Mrs. Yakovitch, who was a religious Catholic, started taking the child to Mass. After a while, the child learned the Hymns and became, for all intents and purposes, like a Christian. In 1946, Mrs. Yakovitch decided that it was time to baptize the child. She took the child to the parish priest and asked him to baptize the child. The priest, seeing the 10-11 year old boy, wondered aloud how it was that a boy of this age was not already baptized. He had a discussion with Mrs. Yakovitch, in which she related all the details of the story. The priest told her she was acting improperly. The wishes of the boy’s dying family must be honored. After this discussion, Mrs. Yakovitch had second thoughts and contacted the families in North America. Finally, in June 1949, through the efforts of the Canadian Jewish Congress, this child — together with 13 other orphans from Poland — came to Canada. Ultimately, in February 1951, through a special bill signed by President Truman, the boy came to the United States, to his family in Washington, DC.

The lad grew up in the United States, but kept in touch with Mrs. Yakovitch, to whom he felt sincerely indebted. He sent her letters, packages, and money. He grew up as a religious Jew. He became the vice-president of a corporation, did very well for himself, and always felt a debt of gratitude to Mrs. Yakovitch.

Finally in 1978, Mrs. Yakovitch, who was getting older, wrote a letter to him, telling him for the first time of her terrible dilemma and her initial decision to have him baptized. In that letter, she revealed the name of the parish priest who convinced her otherwise: Karol Wojtyla, more commonly known as Pope John Paul II.

The Bluzheve Rebbe (Rav Yisreol Spira; 1890-1989) said that although we are not privy to G-d’s ways, we can perhaps speculate that G-d chose to reward this young parish priest for his noble action by raising him to leadership as the Pope. A Seemingly Arbitrary Linkage of the Word ‘KOH’ in Different Locations Provides a Source of Merit for the Priestly Blessing The pasukim in this week’s parsha say, “After these matters, the word of G-d came to Avram in a vision saying: Fear not, Avram. I am a shield for you; your reward is very great… …And He took him outside and said, ‘Gaze, now towards the Heavens, and count the stars if you are able to count them!’ And He said to him, ‘So shall your offspring be. [KOH Yiheyeh zar- echa.]’” [Bereishis 15:1, 5] There is an interesting Medrash on Parshas Lech Lecha. The Medrash discusses the source of merit by which the Jewish people deserve the Priestly Blessing. The Medrash gives three opinions. For our purposes, we will zero in on the opinion of Rav Nechemia who held that the merit stemmed from Yitzchak: As it is written regarding the Akeidah [Binding of Yitzchak], “And I and the lad will walk to this place (ad KOH)” [Bereishis 22:5]. For this reason the Jewish people merited the priestly blessing which begins with “Thus shall you bless (KOH teVarchu.) the Children of Israel” [Bamidbar 6:23].

This Medrash seems very strange. How does a seemingly arbitrary linkage of the word ‘KOH’ in two remote locations provide a source of merit?

The Tiferes Tzion gives a beautiful interpretation: First the Tiferes Tzion describes a Medrash in Bamidbar which explains that all conceivable physical and spiritual blessings in the world are included in the formula of the Priestly Blessing. The Medrash asks, from where do we see this great privilege that the Kohanim do not need to be poetic or expansive or original; but that through the mere recital of these words everyone’s needs will be met? The Medrash answers that they merited this privilege from the words “And I and the lad will walk unto this place (ad KOH).” The Tiferes Tzion notes that the word ‘KOH’ seems out of place. The smoother reading would be ‘ad sham’ [I and the child will walk there]. ‘Koh’, if anything would mean ‘here’; not there — as Avraham truly intended. The Tiferes Tzion explains that when Avraham said ‘Ad KOH’ at the Akeidah — he was referring to the word ‘KOH’ that is used here in Lech Lecha — “‘KOH’ Like this (i.e. like the stars) will your children be”.

At the Akeidah, G-d seems to be telling Avraham to take his only son, upon whom Avraham was pinning all his hopes, and kill him. Avraham’s response is that “we will nevertheless continue to proceed ‘ad KOH’ —wondering what will happen to this blessing of ‘KOH Yiheyeh Zarecha’. But even if we do not understand how ‘KOH Yiheyeh Zarecha’ will be fulfilled, it does not matter, for we will still willingly accept ‘and serve G-d’ [Bereishis 22:5].”

Even if an explanation appears elusive, and we have questions and cannot understand what is happening to us, we nevertheless have faith in the blessing of “KOH (like these stars) will be your children”. We will not be deterred. It was through this faith in G-d’s promise of ‘KOH’ that the Jewish people merited receiving the Priestly Blessing. Birkas Kohanim, with its magic-like formula introduced by the word ‘KOH’, came about as a result of the pure faith in G-d’s Promise, which was introduced by the word ‘KOH’.

INGREDIENTS:

4-5 Yellow and green
zucchini
2 tablespoons chopped
parsley
1 can drained and rinsed
chickpeas
The zest and juice of 1 lemon
1 finely diced shallot
2 tablespoons extra virgin
olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste

DIRECTIONS:

Mixture of 4 to 5 yellow and green zucchini, diced and seasoned with
olive oil, salt, and pepper. Roast these in a 350° oven on a cookie sheet
for approximately 30 minutes. Add your roasted zucchini to a bowl. Mix
all the ingredients listed until fully combined. Serve room temperature
or cold, whatever you prefer, and enjoy!

LOTUS RICE KRISPIE TREATS

DIRECTIONS:

1 stick of melted margarine, 1 cup lotus butter, 1 16 oz container of u- Stir
until melted and combined. Pour over 6 cups of Rice Krispies. Add some mini
marshmallows and mix well to combine. Press into 9×13 greased pan. Drizzle
with melted lotus butter and crumbled lotus cookies. Allow to harden for a few
hours before cutting. Enjoy!

By Rabbi Moshe Meir Weiss

The Torah tells us that Kush had many children.

Then, after we are given the account of all of his kids, in a separate posuk the Torah says that Kush begot Nimrod. The Ben Ish Chai asks the obvious question: Why doesn’t the Torah just enumerate Nimrod with the rest of Kush’s children? The Ben Ish Chai explains that Nimrod claimed that he was god, creator of heaven and earth, the son of no man, much like Paroh who claimed that he was a god who didn’t have to use a restroom. It was Hashem Who revealed to Moshe Rabbeinu to catch Paroh in this lie when he went early in the morning ostensibly to commune with the Nile-god, but really to relieve himself in the secrecy of the waters. This belief in the Divine Right of the monarchy persisted even through the Middle Ages when queens would wear floor-length dresses and the saying was, “The queen has no feet.” It would take one man to unmask Nimrod’s preposterous claim. It all started when one day Terach left his son Avram in charge of his idol shop. Avram proceeded to smash them all except the largest. He then put the hammer in the carved hand of the tall idol and waited for his father’s return. Terach was aghast at the demolition of his “sacred” merchandise when he returned. He turned to Avram and said accusingly, ‘What did you do?’ Avram, in response replied, ‘It wasn’t me. He did it,’ pointing to the tall idol. His father snarled in retort, ‘Don’t give me that! They can’t move!’ Now, Avram queried, ‘Do you hear what you’re saying? If he can’t even move, how could he protect you, and why do you venerate him?’ Terach could not deal with his precocious son so he brought him to master Nimrod to knock some sense into him. Upon arriving at the palace, Avram asked Nimrod, ‘Are you truly the creator of the heaven and the earth?’ Nimrod answered, ‘Of course, don’t you see that everyone believes in me.? How could you even question this?’ Avram persisted, ‘Did you create the sun?’ and Nimrod answered in the affirmative. ‘If so,’ said Avram, ‘I just want to ask of you a small proof and then I will become your biggest adherent. Every morning the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. Tomorrow, master Nimrod, command it to rise in the west and set in the east. Then I’ll believe in you.’ When Nimrod demurred, Avram asked, ‘Are you the creator of all men?’ Nimrod again insisted, ‘Yes!’ Avram said, ‘If so, tell me what I’m thinking and what I’m planning to do.’ When Nimrod stood mute, Avram said to him, ‘That’s no surprise, I did my research. You’re not the Creator. You’re the son of Kush. If you were the Creator, why did you allow your father to die?’

Nimrod saw this line of reasoning was getting sticky so he told Avram, ‘We worship fire.’ Avram countered, ‘Why worship fire when water quenches it.’ ‘Then worship water,’ said Nimrod. Avram argued, ‘Why worship water when the clouds contain it?’ This time, Nimrod countered, ‘Then let’s worship clouds.’ Avram shot back, ‘Why the clouds? The winds disperse them?’ By now, Nimrod had it with Avram. He told Avram that he worshiped fire and if Avram didn’t believe likewise, he, master Nimrod, would throw him into the furnace. ‘Then we’ll see what happens,’ proclaimed Nimrod. The rest is history of course. Avram came out of the kivshon ha’eish, the fiery furnace ̧ proving to all the fallacy of Nimrod’s belief.

After hearing this story, let’s step back and think a moment. Was there no one else in the world who was able to see through Nimrod’s charade? Couldn’t any mature human being see through the shallow façade of Nimrod’s claims? Why is it that Avram became known as, “Avraham HaIvri,” the one and only man who alone stood against the false beliefs of his time?

The answer to this question gives us a great fundamental concept. People are accepting of the way of the masses without giving the things much thought. This was true throughout the ages. But, it’s even more painfully true in today’s day and age when people have simply stopped thinking. Whether their minds have been turned to putty by scores of hours of internet scrolling, by watching reels and other nonsense, or that their thinking processes have been short-circuited by the instant gratification of emailing, texting, IM’ing, twittering, no one allows themselves the luxury of using their wonderful mind.

So, people neglect thinking about the Afterlife. They don’t give a thought to properly prioritizing. They don’t consider carefully whether they are living up to the responsibilities they owe their spouses, the gratitude they owe their parents, and the duties they have to their children. Sadly, many people nowadays don’t spend time contemplating visions of accomplishments at which they might succeed. They simply allow their brains to petrify and wallow through misuse.

As worthy children of Avraham Avinu, may Hashem bless us to avoid these pitfalls and traps, that we should always use our minds to their fullest. In that merit may Hashem bless us with long life, good health, and everything wonderful.

By Rabbi Moshe Elefant

If you said the bracha of Hamotzi on bread at the beginning of a meal, do you need to make a new bracha on DESSERT?

Why would you need to make a new bracha?

When you say the bracha Hamotzi for bread, italso covers the rest of the foods you eat as part of your meal.

Some poskim consider dessert separate from the meal. Therefore, according to this opinion, dessert requires a new bracha rishonah.

Which desserts require a new bracha?

· Fruits require Ha’eitz or Ha’adamah, depending on the type of fruit. · Chocolate and candy require Shehakol.

· Rice desserts require Mezonos.

You do not make a bracha acharonah on these desserts. Birkas Hamazon covers them.

What about cake?

Some poskim consider cake to be a type of bread, so it is covered by the Hamotzi you made at the beginning of the meal.

Others consider cookies and similar baked foods to be pas haba b’kisnin, baked grain foods usually eaten as a snack. In this case, you make a new Mezonos.

What about ice cream?

Some poskim consider ice cream a frozen form of milk. Since drinks are covered by Hamotzi during a meal, you would not need to make a new bracha on ice cream. Other poskim say to make a Shehakol on candy or another dessert, which also covers the ice cream. Since there are different minhagim, it’s best to ask your Rav which minhag you should follow.

What can I do with the leftover bread that I have from a meat meal?

Can I serve it at a dairy meal?

If a person has bread at the meal, but they’re careful, they remove it before the meat comes to the table, or they watch it to make sure that nobody handles it during the meal, and it never got any residue of meat on it, so then that bread is still pareve, and it could be served at a dairy meal. If a person slices the bread, and he handled them during the meal, those slices of bread are considered meat, and they should not be served at a dairy meal.

If you have the bread that’s still on the table, but it’s still on the cutting board, or it’s in the basket, it could be served at a dairy meal. But there’s a custom not to use that as well. If you serve it at the beginning of the dairy meal, but not together with actual cheese, that’s okay. You can eat it and then have the cheese afterwards. But you shouldn’t make a sandwich or melt cheese on it.

By Rabbi Elimelech Biderman

We say in Nishmas that it is impossible for a person to praise Hashem sufficiently.

“We won’t be able to satisfactorily praise you Hashem… not even for one millionth of the miracles and wonders that you performed for us.”

Regarding the mitzvah of bikurim, which focuses on expressing gratitude, Rashi writes that we demonstrate She’eincha Kafui Tovah, that we aren’t ungrateful for Hashem’s kindness. The question arises: why doesn’t Rashi write that the purpose of Bikurim is to thank and praise Hashem for His abundant blessings? We does Rashi limit the purpose to demonstrate that we aren’t kafui tovah, and merely recognize Hashem’s kindness? Reb Moshe Feinstein zt’l replies that it is impossible to praise Hashem. As much as we will say, it will be insufficient. This is why Rashi writes that we express that we aren’t kafui tovah. We express awareness that the kindness came from Hashem. We want to praise Hashem, and we praise Hashem to the best of our abilities, but we know that as much praise we say, we didn’t even begin. Someone was walking towards Rav Shach zt’l, and even from a distance, Rav Shach noticed that this person was extremely happy about something. When he got closer, he told Rav Shach that he had given birth to a baby girl.

Rav Shach asked him, “This is good news that occurs daily… Yet, you seem to be extraordinarily happy.”

The man replied, “I have been married for twenty years, and this is my first child. That’s why I am so happy.”

Soon after, another person came to the rosh yeshiva, Rav Shach, and appeared a bit sad. He told Rav Shach that he had given birth to a baby girl. “So why are you sad?” Rav Shach asked. The man replied, “I already have seven daughters; this is number eight. I was hoping for a boy.”

Rav Shach told him about the person he had met earlier, the man who had a child, a girl, after twenty years of waiting. “He was extremely happy. He is about your age. If you had not had children in all these years, you would be as happy as him. So why should you be sad that you have seven other daughters?” The kohen at a pidyon haben says to the father, “What do you want more?”

I heard from a grandfather who spoke at a pidyon haben that we can explain that the kohen is telling the father, “What more can you possibly want in life? Hashem did so much kindness for you!”

An orphan came to Reb Yehudah Zev Segal, rosh yeshiva of Manchester zt’l, for advice. His father had died, and his mother asked him to take over his father’s food business. Reb Segal agreed that under the circumstances, he should listen to his mother’s requests and support the family. But the rosh yeshiva had one request: “Every night, when you daven maariv, and you say ‘For the miracles that occur, to us every day,’ stop at these words and think, ‘What miracle did Hashem perform for me today?’”

This person says that he has been doing this nightly for forty years, and there was never a night when he couldn’t find a miracle that Hashem performed for him that day. There is a humorous story about a poor person who lived in an old crumbling house at the edge of the city. He had a friend who owned a store. Once, his friend advised him to buy a lottery ticket. The poor man replied, “If I had a penny in my pocket, I would use it to buy food for my children. I wouldn’t use it to buy a lottery ticket.”

The store owner felt bad for his poor friend, so he said, “I will lend you the money. If you win, the prize is yours. And if you lose, you don’t have to pay me anything.”

The poor man’s ticket won the lottery. The store owner discovered this in the middle of the night, and he figured that his friend would be happy to hear the good news, even if that meant waking him up from his sleep. So he went to the poor man’s home in the middle of the night, woke him up, and told him the good news.

As soon as he heard that he had won the lottery, he began shouting at the store owner, “Where is your respect? How dare you wake up the wealthiest man in town in the middle of the night!?” And he went on and on. He was still in his rickety and small, poor man’s home, but he had forgotten the poverty of his past and was living in his newly found wealth. But this isn’t proper. When things turn around and become good for you, you mustn’t forget the difficulties that preceded it. That will help you appreciate the good you have, and it will help you praise Hashem for His kindness.

The yomim tovim are in memory of leaving Mitzrayim. We don’t limit our joy to the present; we simultaneously remember our formative challenges and from where we were rescued and elevated.

The Mishnah (Avos 5:8) states, “Ten miracles occurred to our fathers in the Beis HaMikdash…” Reb Yechezkel Abramsky zt’l noted that the common theme of the miracles listed in the Mishnah is that we were spared from trouble and misfortune. The miracles aren’t about wonderful things happening to people, like becoming wondrously wealthy or that the ill were miraculously healed. Instead, the miracles listed are that everything went smoothly. For example, among the ten miracles of the Beis HaMikdash mentioned are: “No woman miscarried… the korbanos never spoiled…. A fly didn’t come near the meat in the Beis HaMikdash… The rain didn’t extinguish the fire on the mizbeiach…” Let us learn from this that when everything goes well, that is also a miracle, for which we must praise Hashem. The Kav HaYashar (18) writes, “Everyone experiences miracles. Especially in recent times, when there is so much strife and hardship in the world, and things perpetually get worse – evil decrees, war, hunger, people in captivity, distress, and various diseases. When Hashem saves a person from these tragedies, he should continuously consider Hashem’s kindness. Anyone living in peace and security and with parnassah must praise Hashem.”

A yungerman came home and for some reason, his wife didn’t serve him supper, as she generally would, and the sink was filled with dirty pots and dishes. He scolded her, “You didn’t cook supper, and you didn’t clean the dishes. What did you do today?” implying that she did nothing. She didn’t reply. The next day, it was the same story. There was no meal; the sink was full of dishes. Again, he rebuked her, “What did you do all day?” Once again, she remained silent.

The next day, the children weren’t dressed properly. They were running around wild, fighting with one another, writing on the walls, and making a royal mess. The wife was lying in bed. This time, the husband was quite angry. It was far worse than ever before. “What did you do all day long?” he asked bitterly.

She replied, “Today, I didn’t do anything.” She wanted her husband to see how things look when she does nothing, and he should learn to appreciate all the things she does that he never noticed.

This story has an important lesson for the home: learn to appreciate the work that others do for you, which you may have never appreciated. But there is another lesson here, too. It reminds us of how much can go wrong. With this awareness, we should appreciate and recognize the kindness that Hashem bestows upon us constantly and every day.look when she does nothing, and he should learn to appreciate all the things she does that he never noticed.

This story has an important lesson for the home: learn to appreciate the work that others do for you, which you may have never appreciated. But there is another lesson here, too. It reminds us of how much can go wrong. With this awareness, we should appreciate and recognize the kindness that Hashem bestows upon us constantly and every day.

By Rabbi Eli Mansour

The Midrash (Bereshit Rabba 42) tells the story of how Rabbi Eliezer ben Hyrcanus first began learning Torah. He had worked with his brothers in the farmlands owned by their father, Hyrcanus, until Eliezer ran away in order to learn Torah under the great Rabbinic leader of that generation, Rabbi Yochanan Ben Zakai.

Sometime later, his father came to inform Eliezer that he was disowning him, and removing him from his will. But when his father arrived, he saw that Rabbi Yochanan was hosting a major feast for the Rabbis, with the wealthiest men of the generation in attendance. Of all the people assembled, Rabbi Yochanan selected Eliezer – now Rabbi Eliezer – to deliver a speech. Rabbi Eliezer’s words dazzled everyone in the room – including his father, Hyrcanus, who approached him afterward.

“I had come here to disown you and exclude you from my fortune,” he said, “but I am instead giving you everything I own.” What was this speech that so impressed Hyrcanus?

The Midrash says that Rabbi Eliezer spoke about an event told by the Torah in Parashat Lech-Lecha – the war waged by the four kings against the five kings. During this war, the four kings captured the city of Sedom, and took its entire population as captives, including Lot, the nephew of Avraham Avinu. When Avraham heard that his nephew was taken, he immediately mobilized a small army and boldly launched an attack against the four kings. Miraculously, Avraham’s little army triumphed, and rescued all the captives, including Lot.

Rabbi Eliezer, in this first speech that he ever delivered, said that this war is alluded to in a verse in Tehillim (37:14): “The wicked have drawn the sword and bent their bow, to bring down the poor and needy, to slay those who walk uprightly.” These “wicked” people, Rabbi Eliezer explained, were the four kings, who were led by Amrafel, whom Rashi (Bereshit 14:1) identifies as Nimrod, the evil king who had thrown Avraham into a furnace to kill him for denying paganism. These kings came with their armies to wage war against “the poor and the needy” – referring to Lot, and to “slay those who walk uprightly” – referring to Avraham. However, their plan backfired, as the next verse says, “Their sword shall enter their heart” – they were defeated and killed by Avraham.

What was so profound about this lecture? What great insight did Rabbi Eliezer here reveal, thus earning him his father’s newfound admiration and praise?

Rabbi Eliezer here taught that when other nations wage wars, they are invariably, in some way, targeting us, the Jewish People. When we read the Torah’s account of this war, we get the impression that Avraham’s involvement was purely incidental, the result of Lot happening to be living in Sedom, which fell to the four kings. In truth, however, as Rabbi Eliezer taught, the four kings were actually coming after Avraham and Lot. They targeted Avraham because of the monotheistic belief that he disseminated, and they targeted Lot because he was the ancestor of Rut – the great-grandmother of Dovid – and Na’ama – the wife of King Shlomo, from whom the Davidic dynasty descended, culminating in Mashiach. This conflict outwardly seemed like a struggle between different kingdoms who had strategic alliances, but in truth, it was aimed at Avraham and Lot, seeking to destroy Am Yisrael even before its emergence, and to prevent the possibility of Mashiach’s arrival to redeem the Jewish People.

In the next passage, the Midrash comments that these four kings represent the four empires that would later persecute the Jewish Nation – Babylonia, Persia, Greece, and Edom (associated with Rome and the Christian world). The Midrash here teaches us that just as the war waged by the four kings was driven by hostility toward Avraham Avinu and toward the nation he was creating, the subsequent wars will similarly be motivated by this ancient hatred.

We are thus assured that just as G-d miraculously assisted Avraham Avinu in overcoming his enemies, we, too, will prevail over our hostile adversaries. We need to confidently place our trust in the Almighty, in the “Magen Avraham” (“Shield of Avraham”), and ask Him to protect us and deliver us from our enemies just as He helped our ancestors throughout history.

By Chaya Sora Jungreis-Gertzulin

Cheshvan, yahrtzeit of Rochel Imeinu. This year, the night of October 21 and the day of Thursday, October 22.

As we read Parshas Lech Lecha, telling us of Avraham Avinu’s life journey, we recall the journey of Rochel Imeinu. A journey that took her from the house of Lavan, to that of Yaakov Avinu, where she became an Eim b’Yisroel. A journey she took not only in life, but in death, as she was buried by the roadside in Beis Lechem.

“Rochel mevakah al boneha , Rochel weeps for her children. (Yirmiyahu 31:14) Always the mother, she pleads on behalf of Am Yisroel. Yaakov knew that a day would come when the nation will be exiled to Babylonia. Pained and shackled, they will pass by and daven at the kever of Rochel. As they turned to Rochel with words of prayer, they were strengthened knowing Rochel is listening and intervening on their behalf.

This past week, while I was visiting my daughter, her 6-year-old needed “mommy time”. She hopped onto my daughter’s lap, and dramatically announced, “I need my mommy. I’m not going to sleepaway camp, I’m not going to seminary, and when I get married I am moving in.”

We all had a laugh. Her words brought a smile to our faces, but the truth is, like my granddaughter, we all need our mommy – Mama Rochel. No trip to Eretz Yisroel is complete without a visit to Kever Rochel. My mother would often say, that no matter the language, Rochel is always identified as our mother. Be it Rochel Imeinu, Mama Rochel, Mother Rachel, Mère Rachel, or Mamá Raquel, Rochel is there for her children.

We are living in trying times. We need tefillos desperately. This past Motzoei Shabbos, after straightening out the kitchen, I turned to the news. What I heard gave me chills and shudders. France was burning. Demonstrations about the educational system and the downward-spiraling economy, escalated to mass riots gone out of control. Hundreds of thousands on the streets. Buildings set ablaze. Windows shattered. Stores looted. Mobs running in, grabbing whatever they pleased, and destroying the stores’ interior in the process. Just hours earlier, we read in Parshas Noach, “Vatimale ha’aretz chomos, The land became filled with robbery.” The breaking point for the generation of Noach. What marked the end of their society. Robbery. Chaos. Turmoil, Violence. By Sunday morning, it only worsened. A shul in Paris was vandalized. A protest about the educational system and economy, inexplicably turned to acts of anti-Semitism. When a group of men arrived for minyan, they discovered that their shul was ransacked. The shelves were emptied. Tallis bags and tefillin strewn on the floor. The Aron Kodesh was opened. The rabbi’s study a total mess, papers and seforim thrown onto the floor.

Pictures of Kristallnacht flashed before my eyes. How could it be? The words of the parsha came alive. Robbery, a total disregard of another’s possessions marks the breakdown of society. And then, they turn to the shul, the Jews. That’s the world we live in. A familiar and painful feature of Jewish history: the tendency to scapegoat Jews for problems they did not cause. I could just hear my mother a”h. Over twenty years ago, she would say, “The world is burning and we are sleeping. Europe is becoming Eurabia, and the world is silent”. It’s not just Paris. It’s Marseille, Toulouse, Lyon, Bordeaux and Montpellier. And it’s not just France. The unrest has crossed the borders to Milan, Brussels and Lisbon. Europe is on fire. Once again, the breakdown of society. Today, literally, the world is burning. And yes, we are still sleeping, thinking all will be ok. It’s alright. It will pass. It is not in my neighborhood. Until it is.

In this week’s parsha, HaShem tells Avraham, “Lech lecha.” Lech – to go. Lecha – for yourself. As Rashi explains, “la’hanoscha u’letovascha, for your benefit, for your good”. Avraham leaves Ur Kasdim, his country, his birthplace, his home, his family. A test. We know that Avraham was tested ten times, each one making him spiritually stronger. By passing them all, he became worthy of being the father of Am Yisroel.

Lech Lecha was not Avraham’s first test. Many commentators count his refusal to worship idols and believe in one G-d as the first of the ten. The Midrash tells us that he came to the realization that if there is a world, sky and land, sun and moon, flowers, plants and trees, animals, birds and fish, if there is the miracle of life, there must be one Creator, One G-d.

In the pagan world that Avraham was born into, that belief was heresy. A crime punishable by death. For his refusal to worship idols, and steadfast belief in one G-d, Avraham was thrown by King Nimrod into a fiery furnace. Miraculously, Avraham survived the flames, unscathed.

There is a well-known Midrash Tanchuma, “Ma’aseh avos, siman l’banim, What happened to our forefathers is a sign for the future generations”. I think of Avraham’s surviving the flames of Nimrod, and I think of our nation that survived the fires of hate and anti-Semitism. The fires of the Romans. The fires of the Inquisition. The fires of the Holocaust. And now, the fires of our enemies who surround our Holy Land, and the fires of Europe.

As we study the parsha, we have to ask ourselves, what is the message for us today. Lech lecha. There is a time when we have to leave our comfort zone in order to do, accomplish, and fulfill our mission. On another level, perhaps lech lecha is our wakeup call. To be aware of what is happening in the world around us. To realize who our enemies are. Lech – to leave the mindset of denial behind us. Lecha – for our own benefit.

HaShem tells Avraham, “Look to the heaven and count the stars… so too, will be your offspring.” (Bereishis 15:5) The Baal Shem Tov teaches that when we look at the stars, each one looks tiny, like a dot in the sky. Yet, in reality, they are quite large. So, too, are our people. We may look small, but our power is great. The power to survive. We must remember that we are the children of Avraham Avinu. The stars that HaShem promised would be his descendants. Avraham’s emuna and bitachon, his strength to answer the call of lech lecha, is within us. We only have to realize it. That, together with the tears and tefillos of Rochel Imeinu, will b’ezras HaShem carry us through.

By Rabbi YY Jacobson

A Chassid related the following story: The loyalty of Russian soldiers to the Czar was legendary. I once saw a Russian soldier being whipped. His crime? While standing watch on a Russian winter night, his feet had frozen to his boots.

“Had you remembered the oath you took to serve the Czar,” his commander berated him, “the memory would have kept you warm.” “For 25 years,” concluded the Chassid, “this incident inspired my service of G-d.”

A Self-Absorbed Husband?

This week’s parsha, Lech Lecha, relates how a famine breaks out in the Land of Canaan, and Avraham and his wife Sarah head down south to Egypt. As they approach Egypt, Avraham voices his fears to his wife that the Egyptians, notorious for their immorality, might kill him so that they may lay their hands on the most beautiful Sarah. “Please say that you are my sister,” Avraham pleads with his wife, “so that they will give me gifts for your sake and my life will be spared.”

This is a difficult story to digest. Avraham, the founder of Judaism, considered one of the most spiritual humans of all time, the person who gave the world the gift of Monotheism and taught humanity the value of kindness, seems to be all-consumed by the fear for his life, and totally unconcerned with the fate of his wife.

What is even more disturbing is Avraham’s interest that “they give me gifts for your sake,” while his wife would be enduring abuse and humiliation.

No less absurd is the fact that the Torah finds it necessary to begin the biography of the father of the Jewish people with this episode, as though signifying that it contained the fundamentals of Jewish faith and practice… Two approaches can be found among the commentators. The Ramban (Nachmanides, circa 1194-1270) writes that Avraham performed indeed “a great sin, inadvertently.” The Zohar explains (Tazria 52a), that Avraham, who knew Sarah’s superior spiritual quality, was certain that no harm would befall her. He was only fearful about his own fate. Yet, as in every story of the Torah, this narrative contains a profound psychological and spiritual message, articulated by the Chassidic masters.

A Tale of Two Loves

What is the difference between the sibling relationship and the spouse relationship? A spouse you choose; siblings you don’t choose. Your connection with your brothers and sisters is natural and innate.

The bond between siblings is constant and immutable. Whether you love your brothers or not, he will always remain your brother; you are eternally connected by genes, culture, and soul connection.

Conversely, the bond with a spouse is subject to change and fluctuation; today you are married, but in ten years from now you may sadly be divorced.

Yet paradoxically, the love of a sibling – even at its best — is calm and placid; the love of a spouse, on the other hand, is capable of becoming fiery and passionate. Because the love of a sibling is inborn and natural, it can never fully die, but we also don’t get too excited about it. It is part of who we are. The love of a spouse is something created anew as a result of two separate individuals coming together at a later stage in life. The distinctiveness, rather than the sameness, of the two individuals linked in marriage is what gives the relationship its intensity and drama, feelings that cannot be found even between close siblings. Yet this same quality is also the reason some marriages are short-lived. Passion can flourish, but passion can fade away.

And when the marriage does fail, you fall back on the innate bond that exists among family members, who are, hopefully, always there for you.

Tough Times

The story of Avraham and Sarah is also allegorical.

When one is situated in the Holy Land, a term symbolizing a psychological state of serenity and spirituality, he is her husband and she is his wife. They care for each other and look out for each other in a way that only a husband and wife can. Those are the days when you wake up in the morning and say, “Thank you G-d for giving me such a special person in my life.”

But then a famine may erupt, starving your heart and dulling your senses, you end up in “Egypt,” which in Hebrew means “constraints” and “limitations.” You lose your passion for your spouse, barriers between you are constructed, and your love becomes a challenge.

At these moments, one must remember that his wife is, in essence, also a sister and that her husband is also a brother. Even if you don’t feel the connection, you remain connected innately; even if you don’t experience the romance consciously, you remain linked essentially. Because the shared bond between a wife and her husband is not only the result of a created union at a later point in their lives, rather the spouse relationship is innate and intrinsic, in the words of the Zohar, “two halves of the same soul.”

A marriage, in the Jewish perspective, is not only a union of two distinct people; it is a reunion of two souls that were one and then, before birth, separated. In marriage, they are reunited.

The relationship between spouses goes beyond feelings. We crave to always be husbands and wives, but sometimes — for our marriages to survive and thrive — we must become brothers and sisters. Whether you feel it or not, your wife is one with you, always. Do not allow the loyalty and trust to wane on both sides. Even if there are arguments, difficulties, and hardships, maintain loyalty to each other, like healthy and functional siblings.

Avraham and Sarah taught us that when the relationship becomes challenging, you cease to be husband and wife; now you become brother and sister. You fall back on the innate, intrinsic oneness that binds you in an eternal link.

This, in fact, brings an awesome benefit to a husband. When you are there for your wife, even when you’re not in the mood for it, an extraordinary energy of love is later returned to you. That’s why Avraham told Sarah that by saying that she was his sister, he would not only survive but would also receive special gifts.

Marriages Today

We have been in “Egyptian” exile for a long time. The above-mentioned secret has saved many of us and our marriages during challenging times.

But now, as we prepare to return to our eternal homeland, we are empowered and summoned to cultivate a new posture, one of redemptive consciousness. When the brother and sister can openly embrace each other as husband and wife.

Perhaps it is what is happening now for many couples. Yes, we have mastered the art of intrinsic oneness. But we want something more. We want the openhearted bliss that comes from two people experiencing full trust and safety with each other. That requires the work of exposing our vulnerabilities, pain, and fears, so we can also discover the internal yearning for authentic connection and attachment with our soulmate.

G-d My Sister, G-d My Wife

“A sound! My beloved knocks! Open your heart to Me, My sister, My wife, My dove, My twin.” In these stirring words, Shlomo HaMelech describes the Jew both as G-d’s spouse and as G-d’s sibling.

There are times when the Jew is situated in the holy-land, inspired and motivated to live a spiritual and G-dly life. Like in a good marriage, the Jew is excited about G-d, yearning to be close to Him and fulfilled by having a relationship with Him.

But then come the days when you enter into a psychological “Egypt,” where your inner spirituality is numbed, as you are overtaken by self-centered lusts, beastly cravings, negative impulses, and enslaving addictions. Your marriage with G-d seems all but dead. The key to survival at those moments is to remember that G-d is not only a spouse but also a sibling. We are sacred and G-dly not just because we feel it and we love it, but because a person is inherently a sacred creature, and G-dliness is intrinsic to the human being’s very composition. Whether I’m in the mood for it or not, when I behave in a moral and spiritual way, I am being loyal to my true self.

You are holy not because you feel holy, but because you are essentially holy – this is one of the most fundamental ideas of Judaism, expressed in the first narrative about the first Jew.

When the Russian winter threatens to freeze our souls, it’s time to recall the warmth provided by G-d as a member of the family. It’s time to remember the intrinsic bond that exists between you and your sibling that will never fail And just with our earthly marriages, we are ready to leave Egypt, and restore the “husband-wife” connection, in which our relationship with Hashem fills our nervous system with bliss and inner wholeness and serenity.

By Ari Hirsch

Rav Judah Mischel, Executive Director of Camp HASC and a weekly columnist for The Jewish & Country Vues for more than five years, has released his latest sefarim, Baderech: Along the Path of the Torah. This month, Rav Judah is promoting his new sefarim throughout the Tri-State area. They are available at local seforim stores throughout the world and online through Mosaica.

The new volumes continue Rav Judah’s Baderech series, following his earlier works, Baderech: Along the Path of Teshuva and The Baderech Haggadah. Drawing on eight years of writing, Along the Path of the Torah brings together meaningful Torah insights, Chassidus, stories of gedolim and tzaddikim, and practical lessons for everyday life.

In this exclusive interview with The Jewish Vues, Rav Judah discusses the inspiration behind his new sefarim, his years of writing about the weekly parshah, his work at Camp HASC, and the messages he hopes readers will take with them on their own journeys in Torah and Yiddishkeit.

Rav Judah is also the founder of Tzama Nafshi. He lives in Ramat Beit Shemesh with his wife, Ora, and their family.

Your new sefarim, Baderech: Along the Path of the Torah, bring together eight years of writing. What inspired you to compile these thoughts and ideas into a book?

Thank you for the opportunity to share a little bit about Baderech on the Parsha. The sefarim are a compilation of what we might call the greatest hits of eight years of columns. I couldn’t tell you exactly how long I officially worked on them, but the truth is that they represent a lifetime of ideas, stories, and some of my favorite thoughts on Torah and Yamim Tovim.

There are countless sefarim and commentaries on every parshah. What did you want to bring to the weekly parshah that readers may not have encountered before?

The first written commentary on the Torah, as far as I know, is Midrash Rabbah, a compilation of teachings from the Tannaim of the Mishnah period. The Vilna Gaon said that even the lowest of the Amoraim was capable of techiyas hameisim. We cannot even begin to fathom the level of the Tannaim and their accomplishments.

Midrash Rabbah brings together their discussions and insights on the Torah, organized loosely around the pesukim and the order of the parshiyos.

The opening of Midrash Rabbah is Patach Rabbi Oshaya — Rabbi Oshaya opened. I find that instructive and inspiring. The first step in a Torah commentary is about being open: open to the idea that the Ribono Shel Olam invites us to be partners in interpreting Torah, and open to the messages around us. We need to have our eyes, ears, and hearts open to the world and to our experiences, and then filter everything through the prism of Torah.

The parshiyos remain the same every year. We read Bereishis, Noach, Lech Lecha, and the same weekly portions year after year. But we change and grow. The insights we gain from Torah, and the way we apply them to our lives and experiences, change as well, as long as we remain open.

Baderech is rooted in the recognition that everything in our lives is constantly growing and moving. It is an invitation to be open to the messages, lessons, and values that are relevant to our lives right here and now. In a sense, I am trying to bring myself to the weekly parshah.

Your Baderech writing often combines Torah, Chassidus, stories of gedolim and tzaddikim, and practical lessons for everyday life. How did you approach putting all of those elements together in these sefarim?

I didn’t really approach it as a process of putting all these elements together. It’s not as though I sit down looking for nuggets to mold, meld, and weld together. Rather, it’s what is on my mind and in my heart.

The writing is a patchwork, or perhaps a quilt, of ideas, experiences, thoughts, and stories from different parts of my life. We contain multitudes. If there is an underlying message in this compilation, it is the importance of remaining open to light, truth, insight, and inspiration wherever we go and from everyone we meet.

There are Shiv’im Panim LaTorah, seventy facets of Torah, and I cannot afford to cut out communities or perspectives. There is so much beauty and grandeur in different walks of life, and so much to learn from tzaddikim throughout the generations. How could we, and why would we, limit our focus to our own particular sociological community?

You have been the Executive Director of Camp HASC since 2014. How has more than a decade of working with Camp HASC campers and families influenced the way you understand people, their neshamot, and their individual journeys?

Working at Camp HASC is the honor of a lifetime, both professionally and personally, for me, Ora, and our family.

It affects the way I see myself and others in every way. There is really no aspect of my Avodas Hashem, Yiddishkeit, learning, davening, or interaction with the world that has not been influenced by the perspective of putting the person first.

We strive to relate to every Jew, and every human being, as someone created in the image of Hashem, valuing and appreciating every individual — every woman, child, and man — as a neshamah.

We are eternally grateful for the privilege of being part of the Camp HASC community. The imprint of my experience there is certainly felt throughout Baderech.

You are involved in so many different areas — Camp HASC, writing, teaching, speaking, and working with young people. What drives you to do as much as you do, and where do you find the energy and time for it all?

I don’t always have the energy, and we don’t always have the time. But that is precisely where we find the energy and time. We make time for what we decide is important enough to make time for.

The consistency of having to produce a thought and put it into words each week has been very meaningful to me.

When you sit down to write about a parshah, what comes first — the message you want to convey, a story you want to share, or a particular Torah thought that catches your attention?

Like every one of us, I have certain ideas and thoughts that I return to, as the Mishnah says, Hu haya omer. There are themes that I appreciate and that repeatedly appear throughout these sefarim and this compilation. These are things I am always thinking about and discussing.

I don’t know that I have ever opened the Chumash specifically looking for something to write about. Generally, it begins with something that is already on my mind and in my heart.

After your years of teaching, writing, and working with young people and families at Camp HASC, what have you learned about what people are really searching for from their Yiddishkeit?

We are all searching for connection. At every stage and every age, people from all walks of life and backgrounds want to feel connected — to be mechubar to Hashem, connected to one another, and aware of the great treasures that lie within.

Certain universal truths resonate with everyone. Not every story or idea in Baderech will resonate with every person. My hope is that whoever ends up with these sefarim will find a thought, a reference, or an insight that makes the journey a little gentler and helps us appreciate the blessings we have and the opportunities for dveikus in our everyday lives.

I hope readers find a message that stays with them: What we do matters, who we are matters, and we have tremendous potential in our daily interactions to feel connected to the Ribono Shel Olam and play a role in shaping Am Yisrael.

There is nothing more wonderful, and no greater zechus or privilege, than being a Yid. Ta’amu ure’u ki tov Hashem — taste and see how good Hashem is.

I appreciate the zechus and opportunity to share Torah and ideas in The Jewish & Country Vues every week, and I am eternally grateful for that privilege.

If even one idea, one thought, one word, one reference, one joke, one d’var Torah, or one story makes the journey a little easier for another Yid — if it gives someone a little more sense of self, a little pride, or a little wind in the sails and gas in the tank to continue along the path of the Torah — then the whole thing is worth it.

By Rabbi Moishe Dovid Lebovits

Hashem Is Our Friend

Hashem is like our friend who walks hand in hand with us, and He is listening to us. One who davens with the mindset that Hashem can help him but lacks the realization that he can speak to Hashem like he does to a friend is missing out on the point of tefillah. There is a way for us to reach this level of speaking with Hashem like a friend and telling Him what is on our minds.

A Close Friend

It’s hard for us to face our daily challenges alone, whether they are in the realm of ruchniyus or gashmiyus. It’s also difficult to find a real friend to whom one is able to speak about these challenges. The solution is to make Hashem our friend.

It may be hard at first since we cannot see Him. In addition, we might wonder why Hashem would want us to be His friend. However, this erroneous way of thinking will cause us to lose focus of our life’s goal. The point of living in this world is to connect with the Creator, to be His close friend. One who does not live with Hashem on a daily basis feels as if he is not alive in this world. The yetzer hara makes us think that Hashem does not wish to have anything to do with lowly people like us, but this is his way of tricking us into avoiding a connection with Hashem. One who truly lives with Hashem will not experience a greater pleasure.

Balancing Our Relationship with Hashem

A person who feels lowly will wonder why Hashem should listen to his tefillos. This causes him not to approach davening seriously. Others feel that their connection to Hashem is so strong that they wonder why they should daven if Hashem knows what is good for them and they are already so close to Him. Today, many young adults feel like those in either the first category or the second. We need a proper balance: realizing that Hashem listens to all our tefillos and that we should daven, while not thinking that we are so close to Him that we do not have to daven. The Tanna D’vei Eliyahu says that one should daven as if he is speaking to his friend. On the other hand, one should realize the greatness of being able to daven to the King of kings. If we would truly believe that our tefillos have an impact, every word we say would be filled with such meaning. If we would only realize that Hashem waits for us to daven and kisses each word that we say, we would daven the way we should.

When Moshe Rabbeinu was told not to daven anymore to enter Eretz Yisrael, he hinted to Bnei Yisrael to daven for him. If they would have davened to enter Eretz Yisrael, he also would have entered. Why did they not daven? They felt that Moshe Rabbeinu had davened so much and was not answered. Why would they, who were nowhere near the level of Moshe Rabbeinu, be able to impact the decision of Hashem?

If we think our words mean nothing, davening will not be effective. We don’t think that Klal Yisrael needs our tefillos, so we don’t daven properly. If someone would tell us that we need to travel for a few hours to save someone’s life, we would run to do it. Tefillah, then, should not be any different. We don’t believe our tefillos can have this power—and we are wrong.

Throughout davening, we refer to Hashem as “You” in the first person and then “He.” When speaking to a person of stature, we are careful to use only the third person. Our relationship with Hashem is twofold: He is our Father, and we are His servants. When we say “You,” we are children, and when we say “He,” we are servants. In addition, the Anshei Knesses Hagedolah instituted that we say “You” to make us feel like we are talking to our friend. That’s how close we should be to Hashem!

Coming on Time

In order to understand the importance of davening every day, we must have the correct outlook on coming on time to davening. If we had an important meeting, we would make every effort to come on time. Not only that, but we would be nervous and spend time making sure what we say comes out right. This shows that we have the ability, but we don’t use it when it comes to being on time for davening and thinking about what we’ll say. People make up so many excuses as to why they cannot come on time.

Another reason why people come late is because they feel uncomfortable talking to Hashem and push it off as much as they can. If a person does not consider davening central to his life, he will not take it seriously. If we daven in a way that shows we don’t really want to be there, then we are not davening. We can be sure that our children will pick up on this attitude as well.

The Gemara enumerates the benefits of one who is among the first ten to come to shul. One who comes to shul first for davening has endless reward. If one would know the reward for being first in shul, he would fight with his friend to be there first.

In this regard, the Zohar mentions the following parable: A king sent a notice to all the people in a city to come meet him on a certain day. They delayed and didn’t come—except for one person. When the king came and found one person there, he spent time with him and spoke to him, and the person became beloved to the king. When someone else came later on, the king was angry with the latecomer. The same is true when it comes to being on time to shul. When a person comes early, the Shechinah is with him and Hashem talks with him, so to speak. Obviously, this is not the case if someone comes late.

Coming late to shul is a chillul Hashem, which is an issur d’Oraisa. One who does not come on time to shul shows that davening is not for him, and serving Hashem is a burden to him. If one wishes to show his children how to daven correctly, it is very important for him to come on time to davening. Harav Herschel Shachter shlit”a says that one who comes on time to davening is already late. One must come early and put himself in the proper mindset.

Someone who generally came late to shul was approached by Harav Gamliel Rabinovitch shlit”a.

“Doesn’t it bother you that your grandchildren won’t daven at all?” Rav Gamliel asked. “What do you mean?” the man asked, startled. Rav Gamliel explained that if he comes late to shul, chances are that his children will not come earlier. Future generations will only follow this downward spiral and eventually not daven at all.

The following story further illustrates the importance of coming on time.

A certain individual owned a furniture factory. He consistently came late to Shacharis. At times, he would arrive when the tzibbur was up to Baruch She’amar, and sometimes he even came when they were up to Yishtabach. “If you’re coming anyway,” the rav said to him, “why not come earlier?”

“Either way, I come,” the man said. “What’s the difference if I come late?”

A few months passed. One day, there was a fire and the man’s entire furniture factory burned down. He lost everything. The man came to the rav.

“I know why this happened to me,” he said. “It’s because I come late to davening every day.”

“Why would you think that?” the rav asked. “The fire department came when they were called, but they came a bit late,” the man said. “I also come late to davening. I thought, What do a few minutes matter? Well, now I learned my lesson.”

Leaving Early

Unfortunately, many people leave shul before the last Kaddish is recited after Aleinu. Some even leave during Chazaras Hashatz! Hashem provides everyone with all their needs, yet they run out of shul early to get to a job and make money that Hashem provides anyway. L’havdil, people would not leave a sports event early.

Harav Chaim Kanievsky zt”l says that one who leaves davening early because he has no patience to wait a few more minutes until it is over is disgracing Hashem. He is likened to one who does not believe that the Shechinah is found in a shul during davening. How can such a person think that his tefillah will be accepted? In addition, one who leaves shul early will be thrown out of the Beis Hamikdash early as well.

How can one leave early and miss out on a Kaddish? How can one miss out on Aleinu? One of the reasons Aleinu is recited is to ingrain in ourselves the belief that Hashem is our King before we go out into the world and are among the non-Jews. When we engage in business dealings with non-Jews, we should not be drawn into their idol worship. To our great misfortune, Aleinu has become known as Tefillas Haderech.

A person who does not enjoy davening will get upset if it takes too long. This is because davening is not his main focus in life. If he truly valued davening, he would not think this way. People have so much time for other things and will answer every text or email. Yet there is no time for tefillah. If only a person would know that leaving davening early is backward; if he would daven properly, he would not have to spend so much time working.

People tend to put a time frame on tefillah. When it reaches a certain amount of time, they are done and leave, missing amens, Kaddish, and other valuable components of tefillah. The same person could be eating in a restaurant and have all the time in the world. He takes pleasure in his steak yet takes no pleasure in his davening. He would be willing to pay a lot of money for a nice honor, such as Chassan Torah or Chassan Bereishis. He would also give a lot of money to make sure he merits Gan Eden. Yet when he leaves shul early, he is missing out on a valuable amen. And he misses out so he can go to work, which is the curse of man! He is giving up eternal life for a few seconds of life in this world.

Some commentators explain that tefillah is treated like a wedding. If one receives an invitation to a wedding of a neighbor or distant relative, he may go at the end of the wedding, say mazel tov, eat something, and leave. If the wedding is of a close friend, he will stay for the first course and then leave. If his nephew is getting married, he may even stay for the second course. If his brother is the chassan, he will come for pictures and stay until after dessert. If it’s his child’s wedding, he will come early to make sure everything is in order and stay until the very end. Similarly, there are different times when one will come to shul and leave. If one does not feel a sense of closeness to Hashem when he is in shul, he will come late and leave early, whereas one who is close to Hashem will

By Rabbi Gil Student

Artificial intelligence can now perform sophisticated tasks that once required substantial human effort. Its rapid adoption and ongoing development promise enormous benefits while raising concerns about human responsibility and dependence on technology. Should Jews embrace AI or should we be wary of its growing capabilities?

I. Hashem’s World Is Ours to Develop

The Torah describes human beings as created in Hashem’s image and commands us to “fill the earth and subdue it” (Gen. 1:28). This command grants humanity authority to harness natural forces and develop the world through intelligence and creativity. Rav Ya’akov Ariel (cont., Israel) explains this responsibility through Rabbi Akiva’s encounter with Turnus Rufus (Tanchuma, Tazria 5). The Roman official asks which are superior: Hashem’s creations or human creations. Rabbi Akiva responds by comparing stalks of wheat with finished bread. Human labor transforms the wheat into something more useful. Rav Ariel understands this as demonstrating that Hashem expects humanity to improve creation (Halachah Be-Yameinu, pp. 139–140). The Torah describes Hashem’s work as “asher bara Elokim la’asos, that Hashem created to do” (Gen. 2:3), which the Sages understand as a world requiring further human action (Bereishis Rabbah 11:5). We fulfill this mandate through our creative activity.

Rav Yosef Dov Soloveitchik, the Beis Ha-Levi (19th cen., Belarus), develops a similar idea in his commentary to Lech Lecha (Gen. 17:1). Hashem’s name Sha-dai reflects His declaration of “Enough!” to creation (Bereishis Rabbah 46:2). Hashem could have created wheat that naturally develops into bread and flax that becomes clothing. Instead, He deliberately stopped these processes before completion, leaving humanity to finish them.

His great-grandson, Rav Joseph B. Soloveitchik (20th cen., US), describes Adam I, meaning Adam as he appears in the first chapter of Bereishis, as the majestic personality who fulfills Hashem’s command to subdue the earth through scientific discovery and technological mastery. Such accomplishments express the dignity of human beings created in Hashem’s image (The Lonely Man of Faith, part I, sec. D). Artificial intelligence represents an especially impressive exercise of this creative capacity, with potential benefits in almost every area of life.

However, you can object from the prohibition against kilayim, the mixing of species. Ramban (13th cen., Israel), commenting on Lev. 19:19, explains that combining species interferes with Hashem’s established natural order. Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch (19th cen., Germany) similarly understands certain commandments as forbidding us from disturbing the integrity of creation (The Nineteen Letters, no. 11; Horeb, no. 327). These views might offer a note of caution before introducing something as radical as AI into daily life.

However, Rav J. David Bleich (cont., US) argues that even if these explanations are accepted, specific prohibitions cannot establish a universal ban against changing nature (Judaism and Healing, pp. 135– 141). Indeed, Ramban himself recognizes humanity’s broad authority to develop creation (commentary to Gen. 1:28). Rav Ariel likewise emphasizes that we cannot impose prohibitions the Torah did not establish.

AI’s ability to perform impressive tasks therefore does not make its development an improper interference with creation. It represents another application of humanity’s divinely-given intelligence.

II. Beyond the Letter of the Law

Even when halachah permits an activity, does that mean we should pursue it? Just because something can be done does not mean that it should be done. Rav Yitzchak Shilat (cont., Israel) develops a distinction learned from Rav Gedaliah Nadel (20th cen., Israel). The reason for a commandment, the ta’am ha-mitzvah, explains why Hashem issued it. Its underlying idea, the ra’ayon ha-mitzvah, identifies the core of what the Torah commands us to implement. Understanding that idea helps determine the commandment’s halachic scope beyond its mere technical parameters. We must observe the letter of the law while remaining attentive to the values expressed through its commandments. Rav Ariel develops a related distinction in Halachah Be-Yameinu (pp. 140–141). He explains that humanity must complete creation without distorting it. Innovation that corrects deficiencies or prevents suffering serves a constructive purpose. Creating something new merely because it is possible may be undesirable.

He compares technological progress to driving a car. We should take advantage of modern transportation while retaining control and knowing when to apply the brakes. Similarly, AI’s capabilities should be evaluated according to their purposes and consequences.

III. The Risks of Artificial Intelligence

One danger of AI is that it may weaken the intellectual abilities it was designed to assist. Rav Ariel writes elsewhere that advanced technology and scientific knowledge must serve humanity without taking its place. He warns against allowing technology to become a golem that rises against its creator (Halachah Be-Yameinu, p. 124).

AI can help professionals automate complex tasks and solve difficult problems. Yet someone who routinely accepts AI-generated conclusions without understanding them may gradually lose the habit of independent analysis. Technology should strengthen human judgment while leaving responsibility for important decisions with human beings.

Rav Yisrael Rozen (21st cen., Israel) is concerned about the devaluation of human worth. He interprets the Tower of Babel as a warning about technological arrogance. The builders initially achieved something useful by manufacturing bricks as substitutes for natural stone. Their success eventually encouraged an ambition to challenge heaven (Be-Chatzros Beis Hashem, pp. 132–135). Rav Rozen cites Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer (ch. 24), which describes the builders mourning a fallen brick while ignoring the death of a worker. Their technological project had become more important than the people carrying it out. AI presents a similar danger when efficiency and competition take precedence over human welfare. Workers may be displaced without sufficient consideration of their circumstances and human relationships may be replaced by automated interactions simply because machines are cheaper.

Another danger is spiritual. Rav Rozen highlights the emotional influence of technology. Technological power can encourage people to feel overly powerful and increasingly independent of Hashem. The Tower of Babel illustrates how human achievement can become a source of arrogance. AI may intensify this temptation as machines perform increasingly impressive tasks. Yet greater technological capability does not necessarily produce greater wisdom or moral development.

IV. Technology in the Service of Faith

Rav Rozen explicitly rejects withdrawing from technological civilization. He instead advocates harnessing its achievements for constructive religious purposes, invoking Moshe’s declaration, “For we must take of it to serve the Lord our G-d” (Ex. 10:26). Technology can inspire religious wonder. Rambam (12th cen., Egypt) explains that contemplating Hashem’s extraordinary creations inspires love and awe of Him (Mishneh Torah, Hilchos Yesodei Ha-Torah 2:2). Rav Rozen extends this principle to technological achievements, which reveal the remarkable possibilities embedded in creation and humanity’s capacity to discover them. Rav Rozen concludes with Rav Avraham Kook (20th cen., Israel), who explains in “The Shofar and the Trumpets” that the shofar symbolizes nature while the trumpets represent human technology. Both belong within religious life when directed toward divine service and improving the human condition. AI can similarly become a means of improving human life while inspiring gratitude for the intelligence Hashem granted humanity.

V. Conclusion

Jewish tradition offers substantial grounds for embracing artificial intelligence. Hashem created a world that human beings are expected to develop, and technological creativity is an expression of that responsibility. AI is therefore a fulfillment of an important part of the human mission.

However, permission to develop and use AI leaves us responsible for evaluating its applications. We must ask whether it strengthens our abilities or weakens them, whether it serves people or subordinates them to technological objectives and whether its benefits in specific applications justify its consequences. Technical possibility and halachic permissibility cannot be our only standards.

Hashem gave humanity the intelligence to create extraordinary technologies. He also gave us the responsibility to decide when and how to employ them. Our task is to innovate and expand responsibly, finishing the work Hashem left incomplete while remembering that He, too, knew when to say “Enough.”

By Rabbi Joey Haber

Noach is one of three people in the Chumash who are described as having “found favor” – matza chen. The final pasuk of Parashat Bereshit says that Noach Matza chen b’einei Hashem’ – “found favor in G-d’s eyes.” Later in the Book of Bereshit, we read that Yosef “found favor” in the eyes of his master, Potifar, for whom he worked as a slave. And in the Book of Shemot, Hashem tells Moshe Rabbenu that he “found favor” in His eyes.

Some commentaries added that, in fact, Yosef and Moshe are subtly mentioned in the beginning of Parashat Noach. The first pasuk of this parashah describes Noach with two adjectives – Tzadik (“righteous”) and Tamim (“complete”). The word Tzadik is associated with Yosef, who is often referred to as Yosef HaTzadik, and the word Tamim alludes to Moshe Rabbenu, who lived with perfect faith and devotion to Hashem. What is the connection between these three figures – Noach, Yosef and Moshe?

The answer is that Yosef and Moshe together corrected Noach’s mistake.

Noach was, on the one hand, a great man, thanks to whom the world was literally saved, but at the same time, he was guilty of a serious flaw. This is indicated by a pasuk in Yeshayahu which refers to the flood as Mei Noach – “Noach’s waters,” suggesting that Noach was somehow to blame for the flood. The Zohar explains that Noach was informed long before the flood of Hashem’s intention to destroy the earth – and he did nothing to stop it. He just heeded Hashem’s command to build an ark for himself and his family. He had 120 years’ notice – but he did not pray for his generation. He did not try to come to their defense, and plead to Hashem to spare them. And so he was, in a certain sense, responsible for the catastrophic flood. Yosef and Moshe exhibited the precise opposite quality.

Yosef was betrayed by his brothers, who threw him into a pit to kill him, and then sold him as a slave to a foreign country. But Yosef did not seek revenge. His response was not to get back at them. Instead, he forgave them and even took care of them, providing them food during a severe famine. Yosef, the great Tzadik, looked for the good instead of focusing on the bad. He continued loving his brothers despite what they did to him.

This quality was continued by Moshe Rabbenu, who repeatedly prayed to Hashem’s on behalf of Beneh Yisrael, even when they committed very serious sins. When Hashem decided to annihilate the nation after they worshipped the golden calf, Moshe did not just say “ok” like Noach did. Instead, he petitioned Hashem on their behalf, going so far as to demand that if Hashem destroys the people, he should be destroyed with them. He declared that if Hashem did not forgive the people, then M’cheini Na – he wanted to be “erased.” The word M’cheini contains the same letters as the phrase Mei Noach – alluding to the fact that Moshe here corrected Noach’s grave mistake. Instead of accepting Hashem’s decree against the people of his time, Moshe interceded and prayed that they be saved.

The difference between these two attitudes – that of Noach, and that of Yosef and Moshe – is the difference between judging and reserving judgment.

Nocah looked at the people of his generation, saw everything they did wrong, and decided they deserved to be punished. But Yosef and Moshe didn’t rush to judge. Yosef’s brothers, and Beneh Yisrael in Moshe’s time, acted wrongly, but Yosef and Moshe didn’t right away condemn them. They understood that there’s so much more than what meets the eye. There’s so much going on beneath the surface. No one can ever understand what other people are going through, what kind of struggles they’re dealing with, what kind of challenges they face, what kind of pressure they’re under. So many things contribute to the way a person acts – and nobody knows any of it. So we cannot judge. And when we don’t judge, we wish people well and pray for their wellbeing. We don’t get angry and look down at them – we do just the opposite. We look at them the way Yosef looked at his brothers and the way Moshe looked at the people. We look at them kindly and lovingly, even though they did or do things wrong.

I cannot tell you how many times it happened that a couple who seemed so happy together, who seemed to have such a wonderful marriage, ended up getting divorced, or turned out to be having a very hard time in marriage. None of us know what other couples are going through. None of us know what kind of struggles other parents are having with their kids. None of us know all the details of our fellow’s background and upbringing that could have caused his wrong behaviors.

In short, none of us know practically anything about other people, about why they do what they do. Everyone, without exception, is struggling with something that we know absolutely nothing about.

So let’s stop judging, and start loving. Let’s learn from Noach’s mistake, and follow the examples set by Yosef and Moshe. Let’s give people the benefit of the doubt, try hard to see all the good they do instead of focusing on the bad, and show them lots of love, friendship, and support.

By Rabbi Yissocher Frand

I saw the following insight on Parshas Noach written in the name of the Rosh Yeshiva of Ner Israel, Rav Yaakov Weinberg, of Blessed Memory.

We are all familiar with the story recorded at the end of the Parsha involving an attempt to build “a tower with its top in the heavens”. Society spoke a single language and had a common purpose. With single- minded dedication, this society attempted to build a brick and limestone structure that would allow them to “make a name” for themselves. Hashem descended, as it were, and “confused their language” such that they stopped building the tower and the project was abandoned. The Torah records: “That is why it was called Bavel, because it was there that Hashem confused the language of the whole earth, and from there Hashem scattered them over the face of the whole earth.” [Bereishis 11:9] Rashi asks: Which sin was greater – that of the Generation of the Flood or the Generation of the Dispersion? Off hand, we would say that the latter were worse. The people of the Generation of the Dispersion were heretics. They engaged in theological battle, waging war against the Almighty (by building a tower that would reach the heavens to go up and fight with Him). The Generation of the Flood engaged in theft, violence, and immoralities — crimes of passion. However, they did not engage in heresy. They did not have the audacity to “wage war against the Almighty!”

And yet, the Generation of the Flood was totally destroyed while the people of the Generation of Dispersion were merely dispersed. Rashi explains that the unity that existed within the society of the Generation of Dispersion is what saved them. The Generation of the Flood was a totally dysfunctional society. They hated each other and stole from one another. The people of the Generation of Dispersion on the other hand, despite the fact that they were heretics, were unified.

They loved one another. They spoke with one language and had common purpose! Rashi concludes: From here we see that disputes are hated and great is peace (Gadol haShalom).

Rav Weinberg asked a basic question on Rashi’s premise. How can Rashi say that love of fellow man and unity prevailed in the society of the Generation of the Dispersion? Rashi himself two pasukim earlier cites a Medrash that the people of this generation were more concerned about the loss of a brick than they were about the loss of human life! (One asks for a brick and the other brings lime, and the former stands over him and shatters his brain). Where is the love and friendship that Rashi in pasuk 9 claimed was pervasive in this society?

Apparently, any cooperation they manifested in the project of building the tower was a very superficial demonstration of “peace”. The Shalom was based on ulterior motives!

In a classic insight, Rav Weinberg stated that this teaches us that even if people have their differences or even hate each other, the mere fact that people work together is “shalom”. The mere fact that people can join together to work on a project and set aside their differences —superficial shalom — is also very meritorious. Even though the shalom may be short-lived, still, people working together is better than people working against one another. Even if Shalom is only skin-deep, if the people, for whatever reasons, come together: Gadol HaShalom – Great is Peace.

By Rabbi Moshe Meir Weiss

In Parsha Noach in Bereishis Rabbah, the Medrash tells us a cat and mouse story. The mouse, feeling contentious with the cat, told Adam that the cat has a propensity to steal (which is the truth).

Adam told the mouse that for speaking Lashon Hara about the cat, he is condemned to be food for the cat, and this particular mouse was then promptly consumed by a cat.

In Perek Shira, we find evidence of this sentencing. The song of the mouse is, “V’Attah tzadik al kol haba alai ki emes asisa va’ani hirshati – You (Hashem) are righteous for all that befalls me, for You perform truth and I acted wickedly.” On the other hand, also in Perek Shira, the song of the cat is, “Erdof o’yvai v’asigeim, v’lo ashuv ad kalosam – I pursue my enemy and I will overtake them; I will not relent until I destroy them.” Thus, we find that the mouse acknowledges that it acted wickedly with Lashon Hara, while the cat identifies the mouse as his enemy for saying Lashon Hara about him.

It is interesting to note the Hebrew word for mouse, achbar, (spelled ayin, chaf, beis, reish,) is the same letters as the words ra bach, meaning, “There is bad in you,” for Lashon Hara is the essence of bad. We know this from the famous verse, “Mi ha’ish he’chofeitz chaim, oheiv yamim liros tov – Who is the man who desires life, loves days to see good; N’tzor l’shon’cha mei’ra – Guard your tongue from speaking evil.” We see that watching one’s tongue is good, implying that a wagging tongue is bad.

I would venture to say that this probably why there is a general repulsion people have for the mouse, and women are especially freaked out by this little creature. Thus, since nine out of ten measures of speech were given to women, the mouse which represents Lashon Hara is a special agitation to them.

There is a famous Chovos Hale’vavos cited by the Chofetz Chaim, zt”l, zy”a, in Shmiras HaLashon. When one speaks Lashon Hara about another, some of his merits are taken away from him and given to the victim. Similarly, we see that for gossiping about the cat, the mouse was given to the cat for dinner. My wife Shoshy and I try to learn a little about Lashon Hara every day. Besides being a wonderful way to connect, it also sensitizes us in our own conversations to the acute dangers of Lashon Hara. One night, we studied a remarkable lesson of the Chofetz Chaim. When one speaks Lashon Hara about another person, he is actually causing that person to receive his Divine punishment. The Chofetz Chaim explains that when a person sins, let’s say for example, he talks in Shul, the Satan goes and prosecutes against him to Hashem. Hashem responds that there can be no punishment without two witnesses. So, the Satan is powerless to cause this person to be sentenced and punished. However, when someone else speaks about how this person talks in Shul, he now becomes the second witness, and then the person can effectively be condemned and is punished forthwith. The Chofetz Chaim says that if one realized when they speak about another person’s not dressing modestly or wrongfully taking some food in a store and popping it in their mouth, their words are causing the other person to suffer a loss, break a leg, or lose a job, one would really think twice before they gossiped. Afterall, who wants to be a partner with the Satan in causing someone else to be punished? The Mosuk M’dvash comments that we can see how dreadful Lashon Hara is. Throughout the generations, the cat was allowed to pounce upon and devour the mouse because the mouse spoke Lashon Hara. That is the gravity of this sin, which the Yerushalmi in Pe’ah says is equal to the three cardinal sins of bloodshed, idolatry and immorality.

In the merit of guarding our tongues from speaking evil, may Hashem bless us with long life, good health, and everything wonderful.

By Rabbi Elimelech Biderman

Chazal (Sanhedrin 108a) tell us that the fish in the sea didn’t die in the mabul. The animals on dry land died, as it states (7:22) “All that were on the dry land, died,” but, as Chazal say, the fish at sea didn’t die. Why didn’t the fish die?

The Rom (Mizrachi) explains that the fish didn’t sin, like the animals on dry land did.

This explains why the fish didn’t die in the flood, but we still must understand why the fish didn’t sin, while the rest of the animals did.

The Maharal (Gur Aryeh) explains this with a Rashi (Bereishis 6:6) Hashem was consoled that He created man in this world, because if he were created in heaven, he would cause heaven to rebel against Hashem. The Maharal writes, “We learn from this that when a person sins, he causes all those who are in his vicinity to rebel. If man were in heaven, he would cause the malachim in heaven to rebel and to go against Hashem’s will, chas v’shalom.

This explains the reason the fish didn’t sin. They weren’t with man; instead, they are at sea, in their own world, and in their own environment; therefore, they weren’t affected by man’s sins, like the animals were. Let us learn from this the importance of living in a good neighborhood, where there are righteous Yidden with yiras Shamayim. How much good can come from this, b’ruchniyus and b’gashmiyus! L’havdil, when one is among resha’im, their evil ways influence the people in their vicinity.

It states (8:11)” The dove came back to him in the evening, and behold an olive leave it had plucked with its bill.” The Midrash (Bereishis Rabba 33:6) states that the leaf came from Gan Eden. The gates of Gan Eden opened for her, and she brought the leaf from there. The Ramban asks how, according to this explanation, did Noach know from the olive leaf that the flood subsided? There was no flood in Gan Eden! He answers, “Perhaps the gates of Gan Eden were closed [throughout the duration of the mabul] so that the water of the mabul shouldn’t enter. When the mabul waters subsided, the doors of Gan Eden opened.” We learn from this that when there is a mabul in the world, even Gan Eden is in danger of being affected. The only counsel is to close the gates of heaven from the mighty waters.

On a practical level, this means that when the yetzer hara is burning on the streets, these powerful waters threaten to flood the entire world. They have the ability chas v’shalom to penetrate the houses of the Jewish people, and even their batei knesiyos and midrashos, and to cause destruction. At these times, there is an obligation to keep the doors of the home and of the batei medrashim sealed shut. This means to not allow foreign material, ideas, and influences inside. Or, more precisely, this means to guard the home from the internet. The Gemara (Zevachim 113b) states that there is a huge animal called urzila. Even when this animal is just born, it is as large as Mount Tavur. How did this animal, survive the flood? The Gemara says that we can’t answer that it placed its head in the teivah because even its head was a parsah and a half long! Its large head wouldn’t fit into the teivah. The Gemara answers that this animal placed its nose into the teivah. Rashi writes, “So it could breathe.” In this manner, the animal survived and later had children. Reb Chaim Kreisworth zt’l said that there is a great lesson here: Even if a person fell to very low places, and he is drowning in the waters of the mabul (which means he is drowning in the tumah and debased culture of the non-Jewish world), if he will at least place his nose into the teivah, into kedushah, this will save him, and it will save the generations after him… This lesson is particularly important for our generation. We are living in a very trying time. The tumah around us is powerful, and it tries to capture everything into its “flood.” A person should place his nose into kedushah. This means he should have experiences of kedushah. He should go to a beis medresh to daven, and he should have set times for Torah. He has to “breathe” healthy, spiritual air. This will help him survive the mabul, the flood of tumah of our times. These moments of kedushah will be his oxygen, and like the urzila animal, he will be able to survive these difficult times.

By Rabbi Aryeh Lebowitz

Every creature that lives shall be yours to eat; as with the green grasses, I give you all these. You must not, however, eat flesh with its life-blood in

it. ~ Bereishis 9:3

Every Jew is obligated to keep all the mitzvos and also to help all other Jews keep the mitzvos. However, are we obligated to assist non-Jews in their fulfillment of the sheva mitzvos b’nei Noach? Are we obligated to teach them these mitzvos? Is it advisable? For most of Jewish history, we couldn’t even contemplate such an effort, since we were not in a position to influence the religious beliefs or actions of others who were not Jewish. However, today we can often educate our neighbors and co-workers as to how the Torah views their obligations. Should we take advantage of the current situation and promote the sheva mitzvos b’nei Noach to non-Jews, or should we remain passive and take a “live and let live” attitude with the hope that the non-Jewish communities come to this knowledge on their own?

Ohr LaGoyim

Yeshayahu HaNavi (42:6, 46:6) tasks the Jewish people to serve as an ohr lagoyim — a light unto the nations. The straightforward meaning of this pasuk would point us in the direction of reaching out and teaching non-Jews. However, Rashi (s.v. L’Ohr) explains that the “goyim” referred to in the pasuk are not the nations of the world, but in fact the various shevatim of the Jewish people, each one considered its own “goy.” According to Rashi, this pasuk is not a source to actively teach non-Jewish nations. Additionally, the Radak (s.v. L’Bris) writes that though the pasuk does include a duty to teach the nations of the world about the sheva mitzvos, it only applies in the times of the geulah, when we will have an opportunity to properly educate non-Jews as to their role in serving Hashem. Unfortunately, we have many reminders that we are not yet in such a time of geulah, and thus, according to the Radak as well, we cannot use this pasuk as a source to teach non-Jews about their obligations. The Netziv (Ha’Amek Davar, Bereishis 9:27, and more explicitly in Harchev Davar Bereishis 17:5), on the other hand, writes that already today the Jewish people are tasked with teaching the nations of the world about monotheism and what the belief in Hashem entails. Arguably, this includes all the details of the sheva mitzvos b’nei Noach.

Sources and Authorities that

Encourage Teaching Non- Jews

The Gemara (Chagigah 13a) derives from the pasuk (Tehillim 147:20): lo asah chein l’chol goy umishpatim bal yeda’um — “He did not do so (teach Torah) to all the nations, and of His laws He did not inform them,” that it is generally forbidden to teach Torah to non- Jews. Tosafos (ibid., s.v. Ein), though, explains that this prohibition does not apply to the sheva mitzvos, as the Gemara (Sanhedrin 59a) writes that a non-Jew who studies these mitzvos can reach the level of the kohen gadol, and one who helps facilitate this learning would be fulfilling a great mitzvah. However, the Bach (Chagigah 13a 40) cites the Ein Yaakov that it was only praiseworthy for non-Jews to study these mitzvos before Har Sinai. The Gemara (Bava Kamma 38a) says that after the giving of the Torah, the nations of the world ceased being obligated in the sheva mitzvos. They can still fulfill them as an eino metzuveh v’oseh, someone performing a mitzvah that is not obligated to do so, but they receive less reward than they would have had they been commanded. Based on this, the Teshuvos P’nei Yehoshua (Y.D. 3) writes that since they are not commanded in these mitzvos, there is no obligation for the Jewish people to try to teach them.

Rav Moshe Feinstein (Iggeros Moshe Y.D. 3:89) and Rav Yosef Shalom Elyashiv (Kovetz Teshuvos 3:142) both assume that the opinion of Tosafos is accepted and that it is a mitzvah in theory. Similarly, the Yad Eliyahu (47) argues that the Rambam also agrees with this, since he writes (Hilchos Ma’aseh Korbanos 19:16) that one is permitted to teach a non-Jew how to offer korbanos, since he is permitted to do so, and we are obligated to help facilitate his performance of this mitzvah. In general, the Rambam (Hilchos Melachim 8) writes that Moshe Rabbeinu commanded us, when we can, to compel non-Jews to keep these mitzvos. Furthermore, the Rambam writes (Sefer HaMitzvos 3) that the mitzvah of ahavas Hashem includes a call to bring others to love Hashem. This too can be a source to teach the non-Jewish world about monotheism and the sheva mitzvos. These sources all imply that we should teach non-Jews, and indeed, the Shulchan Aruch HaRav (Hilchos Talmud Torah 1:14) rules that there is a mitzvah to teach the sheva mitzvos to non-Jews. The seventh Lubavitcher Rebbe put this into practice and famously attempted to actively teach the sheva mitzvos to non-Jews throughout the world.

Opposition to the Practice

Several Torah leaders opposed the practice of actively and purposefully teaching the sheva mitzvos to non-Jews. The clearest formulation of this position can be found in Rav Moshe Shternbuch’s teshuvah on the matter (Teshuvos V’Hanhagos 3:317). First, he writes, even if we can convince non-Jews to keep the sheva mitzvos, they would likely only be doing so within the rubric of their belief system as they understand G-d. However, there is no fulfillment of the sheva mitzvos unless they are ascribed to Hashem and His Torah, and thus it is pointless to teach non-Jews who will remain believers in other religions.

Second, the Gemara (Bava Basra 10b) tells us that our galus will only end when the merits of the non-Jews are “dried up.” Thus, it is not in our interest to increase the merit of the other nations, which will extend our exile. While there is a prohibition of lifnei iver to entice a non-Jew to violate one of the sheva mitzvos, it is also not our responsibility to actively ensure that they are keeping them either. Third, Rav Sternbuch points out that from a halachic perspective we have no arvus, or mutual responsibility, for the actions of the non-Jews.

Similarly, Rav Moshe Feinstein (Mesoras Moshe vol. 1 p. 504) was opposed to teaching the sheva mitzvos to non-Jews, explaining that there is no obligation to give tochachah (rebuke) to non-Jews, as there is toward fellow Jews. Rav Moshe also expressed concern that we should not give the impression that we are proselytizing the other nations and religions, since this could arouse resentment and hatred toward us. For these reasons, Rav Moshe also believed that we should focus on our own obligations and simply leave non-Jews to their own devices regarding the sheva mitzvos.

By Rabbi Dr. Yaakov Abramovitz

What’s the first thing you would do after surviving an apocalyptic event?

After a year aboard the teivah, Noach finally stepped onto dry land. He could have focused on finding food, building shelter, or simply taking in the reality of a world that had been completely destroyed. Instead, the Torah tells us that his very first act was to build a mizbei’ach and offer korbanos to Hashem.

How did Noach know to do that? Rashi (Bereishis 8:20) points us back to the beginning of the story. Hashem had instructed Noach to bring seven of every kosher animal into the teivah, even though only two were needed to preserve the species. Noach understood that those additional animals must have been given for a purpose. If Hashem provided more than was necessary for survival, the “extras” were meant to be used in His service.

Rav Hershel Schachter shlita suggests that Noach’s insight should shape the way we view our own lives.

Imagine what life would look like if we had only the bare minimum. Enough money to survive. Enough strength to get through the day. Enough time to care for ourselves and our families. Enough talent to make a living. For most of us, Hashem has given much more than that.

The natural assumption is that those additional blessings are ours to enjoy. Noach teaches us to ask a different question: Why did Hashem give me more than I need?

That question extends far beyond wealth.

If we have extra time, perhaps someone needs a visit, a ride, or help with an errand. If we have extra strength, perhaps there is a shul, school, or neighbor who could use a hand.

If we have knowledge, professional expertise, or Torah learning beyond what we need for ourselves, perhaps someone else is meant to benefit from it. The same is true of every talent, opportunity, and resource Hashem places in our lives.

Perhaps this is the Torah’s deeper definition of gratitude. Gratitude is not only saying, “Thank You.” It is asking, “Why did You give this to me?” Every blessing carries a responsibility and a mission.

Noach teaches us that the greatest expression of gratitude is not simply appreciating what Hashem has given us, but dedicating our “extras” to the One Who gave them in the first place. The question is not whether we have been blessed with more than we need. The question is: What does Hashem want me to do with the extra?

INGREDIENTS:

2 cups (10 ounces) all
purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks)
unsalted butter, at room
temperature
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup confectioners sugar
1/4 cup canola oil
1 egg
2 teaspoons vanilla
About 1 cup rainbow
sprinkles

DIRECTIONS:

In a medium bowl, combine flour, baking soda, and salt; set aside. In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a paddle
attachment, cream together butter, oil, sugar, and confectioners sugar until fluffy, about 3 minutes. Add egg and vanilla
and beat to combine. Add dry ingredients and mix just until dough comes together. Dough will be very soft but wrap it in
plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least one hour. Adjust oven rack to upper and lower
middle positions and preheat oven to 350°F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper. Fill a shallow bowl with
sprinkles. Use a 2-ounce cookie scoop (or a rounded tablespoon) to form cookies into balls. Roll each ball in sprinkles to
cover then transfer to prepared baking sheet. Bake until cookies are golden at the edges, about 20 minutes. Let cool 5
minutes then transfer to a wire rack to finish cooling. Cookies will keep in an airtight container for up to 3 days.

RAINBOW LAYERED SALAD

INGREDIENTS:

Poppyseed Dressing
1/4 cup white wine vinegar
1/4 cup sugar
1 garlic clove
1 1/2 tablespoons poppyseeds
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon Dijon mustard
2 teaspoons light mayo
1/3 cup olive oil

DIRECTIONS:

For parshas noach try a delicious rainbow layered salad. You can
serve individually in mason jars or make one big one in a footed trie
bowl.
Layer:
Diced red peppers or tomatoes, Diced orange peppers or carrots,
Canned corn, Diced cucumbers, Shredded red cabbage
You can also add beans or any of your favorite veggies. Whisk salad
dressing and refrigerate until ready to serve.

INGREDIENTS:

24 ounces salmon
fillet
1 each of a red,
green yellow, and
orange bell pepper
1/2 large red onion
4 Tbsp olive oil
Salt and pepper
Lemon

DIRECTIONS:

24 ounces salmon
fillet
1 each of a red,
green yellow, and
orange bell pepper
1/2 large red onion
4 Tbsp olive oil
Salt and pepper
Lemon

Eat the rainbow is a saying that helps remind us to eat
lots of colorful fruits and vegetables in our diet. It’s
also a great way to incorporate the parsha this week
into your shabbos meal. These beautiful salmon
rainbow skewers will make a delicious appetizer. Try
them instead of Gefilte fish.

Cut the salmon into 1 1/2 inch chunks. You are going to
need approximately 24 pieces.
Cut the peppers into 1 1/2 inch square pieces
Cut the red onion into similar sized chunks and separate
the layers. Thread your skewers alternately with the
onions and peppers, and then the salmon. Leave some
room at the base so you can handle them easily. Brush the
skewers liberally on both sides with olive oil, and sprinkle
with salt and fresh ground black pepper. Cook on a hot
grill, turning once, until the sh is cooked through and
the veggies are softened a bit. Don’t overcook! Serve with
a squeeze of lemon.

By Rabbi Moshe Elefant

What are the steps necessary to allow a meat oven to be used for dairy, or a dairy oven to be used for meat?

There are two issues we need to address. First, residue from spills may have accumulated on the bottom of the oven. Second, we need to kasher the oven itself. If I want to bake uncovered dairy food in an oven previously used for meat, I must be concerned about any remaining residue, since the dairy food could contact it. However, this concern does not apply in the same way if the dairy food is sealed and covered. The first step is to thoroughly clean the oven. Inspect the bottom for any residue and use steel wool to remove any buildup. If only tiny bits remain, the kashering process will burn them away.

As for kashering the oven itself, most modern ovens have a porcelain or ceramic coating. According to many poskim, the oven should remain unused for 24 hours before kashering. This means it should not be used for meat during that period. Using the oven for pareve food during those 24 hours does not affect this requirement. After the 24-hour waiting period, turn the oven to 550 degrees Fahrenheit and leave it on for one hour. This process burns away any remaining residue and kashering concerns, allowing the oven to be used for uncovered dairy food.

WHAT BRACHA DO YOU SAY ON: NOODLES?

PASTA Bracha rishonah: Mezonot Bracha acharonah: Al Hamichya Reason: Pasta is made primarily from wheat flour, one of the five grains. EGG NOODLES Bracha rishonah: Mezonot Bracha acharonah: Al Hamichya Reason: Egg noodles are made primarily from wheat flour. The eggs do not change the bracha. RAMEN NOODLES Bracha rishonah: Mezonot Bracha acharonah: Al Hamichya Reason: Ramen noodles are made primarily from wheat flour, one of the five grains. RICE NOODLES Bracha rishonah: Mezonot Bracha acharonah: Borei Nefashot Reason: Rice is not one of the five grains, so the bracha acharonah is Borei Nefashot. ZUCCHINI NOODLES Bracha rishonah: Ha’adamah Bracha acharonah: Borei Nefashot Reason: Zucchini noodles are made from a vegetable. SPELT NOODLES Bracha rishonah: Mezonot Bracha acharonah: Al Hamichya Reason: Spelt is one of the five grains.

SOBA NOODLES Bracha rishonah: Mezonot Bracha acharonah: Al Hamichya Reason: Soba noodles are often made with both buckwheat and wheat flour. Since they contain wheat flour, the bracha is generally Mezonot.

BEAN NOODLES Bracha rishonah: Shehakol Bracha acharonah: Borei Nefashot Reason: Bean noodles are made from processed bean flour.

UDON NOODLES Bracha rishonah: Mezonot Bracha acharonah: Al Hamichya Reason: Udon noodles are made primarily from wheat flour, one of the five grains. SHIRATAKI NOODLES Bracha rishonah: Shehakol Bracha acharonah: Borei Nefashot Reason: Shirataki noodles are made from konjac flour, not grain.

By Chaya Sora Jungreis-Gertzulin

Parshas Noach. A tale of two generations. The parsha opens with the story of Dor HaMabul, the Generation of the Flood, the story of Noach and his ark. Towards the end of the parsha we learn of the Dor Haflagah, the Generation of Dispersion, the building of the Tower of Babel.

“Va’tishacheis ha’aretz lifnei haElokim, And the earth was corrupt before HaShem, va’timalei ha’aretz chamas, and the land was filled with robbery.” (Bereishis 6:11) That was Noach’s world. Rashi explains that va’tishacheis, corruption, refers to the sins of immorality and idolatry, while chamas refers to thievery.

The Torah tells us “Keitz kol bosor…., The end of all living beings…., for the land is filled with robbery.” (Bereishis 6:13) They hit rock bottom. The point of no return. A life of stealing. A total disregard for another’s possessions. Rav Eliyahu Dessler zt”l teaches that stealing brings destruction not only to the victim but also to the perpetrator. It was a generation that brought about its own destruction. It was a world of social discord. The very moral fiber of society was shattered. Robbery, dishonesty, immorality became the norm, an accepted way of life.

In HaShem’s eyes, their deeds were irreversible. It was time to rebuild and start a new world, beginning with Noach and his family. Noach, whom the Chumash describes as a “tzaddik in his time”. How upsetting it is for parents to see their young children fighting amongst themselves, grabbing each other’s toys, squabbling, and not respecting one another. What heartache it is to see adult children not getting along. Imagine HaShem watching His beloved children from Above. Is He not the father of us all? How painful it is for Him to see a total lack of achdus, of not being there for each other.

It is with this backdrop that HaShem brought Mei Noach, the Floodwaters of Noach upon the world.

The parsha also tells us about the Dor Haflagah, the Generation of Dispersion. “Va’yehi kol ha’aretz safah echos u’devorim achodim, “All the people were of one language and one belief”. (Bereishis 11:1) It was a generation with a plan to build a tower reaching up to the heavens. An edifice to show that man is in control and ready to wage war against HaShem. The Talmud tells us that the people were led by Nimrod, whose name means to rebel, for he led the world in a rebellion against HaShem. It was 340 years after the Great Flood. The builders of the tower were the original “children of survivors”, descendants of Noach and his sons. Instead of appreciating the salvation of Noach, and showing gratitude to HaShem that they were alive and given a second chance, they built a tower, and called for a rebellion. Their punishment was that they were dispersed throughout the world. One language became seventy, one people became seventy nations. Where they previously were of one mind, all on the same page, understanding each other and thinking alike, they now were divided. They no longer comprehended one another, no longer able to build together. A lesson in contrasts. How do we understand the destruction and devastation in the time of the flood, as compared to the division and dispersion that was inflicted upon the builders of the tower?

While it may seem that rebellion against G-d is far worse than thievery and immorality, the punishment of total destruction for the Dor HaMabul was much harsher than the division by language and dispersion throughout the world imposed upon the Dor Haflagah. Chazal explain that although Dor Haflagah schemed to dominate both the physical world and the Divine, they were unified in their actions. Achdus, unity, is a trait that HaShem looks for in His people. HaShem is able to look away at man’s lack of honor towards Him. But, in a world where boundaries are crossed, where there isn’t any respect between man and man, that is a world HaShem feels compelled to destroy and rebuild. While unity is a tremendous virtue, unity alone does not make a cause righteous. The builders of the tower were united, but they unity was for an improper endeavor. Their unity did not save them from punishment; rather, it distinguished their generation from the generation of the Flood.

Every now and then we witness how the power of unity brings healing and saving. Stirling Station, Perth, Australia. It was rush hour, and the train station was super crowded. A commuter made a quick dash towards the train for his ride home, and in his hurry, his foot became lodged in the gap between the train and the platform.

Try as he might, he couldn’t release himself. Fellow commuters tried to pull him up, but to no avail. His leg was stuck. The conductor and transit staff were alerted. They, too, tried to free the man, but got nowhere. The transit workers came up with a plan. Have all the passengers exit the train – or carriage, as the Aussies say – and together, gently rock the train car, hopefully allowing the passenger to extract his leg. Dozens of passengers willingly put their bags down, and placed their hands upon the train. One, two, three – push, rock. It worked. By working in unison, they were able to tilt the train and accomplish their mission. When it comes to a group working together, each and every individual makes a difference. Each one’s action has an impact. No single passenger could move that train. But each person who joined in contributed to the rescue. That is the power of achdus: what is impossible for one can become possible when many work together. For the man whose leg was trapped, unity was a lifesaver.

There are so many acts of achdus that bring blessing. I recently read of the remarkable women of Bergen County, New Jersey. They opened their homes to the widows and families of fallen Israeli soldiers. They offered a listening ear, treated young children to a good time, and raised much-needed funds. Mi K’amcha Yisroel, who is like our nation Yisroel.

I am reminded of the legendary leader of Agudath Israel, Rabbi Moshe Sherer z”l. He would end almost every speech at Agudah conventions, dinners and on so many other occasions, with an impassioned plea to his audience. “Together, together, together….” That is the story of our people. This is the power of our nation. Together. Let’s all seek out opportunities to create unity. Unity in our family. Unity amongst our neighbors and friends. Unity in our nation.

With unity, there are no limits.

By Rabbi Eli Mansour

The Torah tells that after G-d commanded Noach to construct the ark, “Nocah did in accordance with everything G-d had commanded him – so he did” (6:22).

The final clause – “Ken Asa” (“so he did”) – seems to have been added to emphasize that Noach built the ark precisely as G-d had commanded, without deviating even one iota from the specific instructions that he had received. We all know that even the most skilled and reputable contractors usually fail to complete their projects to the customer’s complete satisfaction. There is always some detail, minor or major, that is not done the way the customer wanted. Noach, however, completed his project – the ark – in precise compliance with G-d’s instructions, without overlooking or disregarding even a single detail. Intriguingly, a similar verse appears later in the Parasha, following G-d’s command to Noach that he enter the ark with his family. The Torah writes, “Noach did in accordance with all that G-d had commanded him” (7:5). Rashi explains that this refers to his entering the ark. It is striking that in this context, the Torah does not add, “Ken Asa.” In this instance, there is no emphasis on the fact that Noach complied precisely with G-d’s instructions.

The reason is found in Rashi’s startling comments two verses later (7:7). The Torah tells that Noach and his family entered the ark “because of the waters of the flood,” and Rashi explains that he did not go into the ark until he was forced to by the floodwaters. Noach, Rashi writes, was ambivalent. He did not fully believe that Hashem would bring the flood, and so he did not go into the ark immediately after he was told to. He waited until the heavy rains compelled him to seek refuge in the ark.

This easily explains why the phrase “Ken Asa” is omitted in the context of Noach’s entry into the ark. In this case, he did not, in fact, comply precisely with Hashem’s command. Although he was, of course, a righteous man who faithfully obeyed G-d, his obedience in this instance was imperfect.

The question then becomes, why was Noach ambivalent? He spent 120 years building the ark in preparation for the flood that G-d told him would come. Did he really not believe that G-d would flood the earth?

Rav Yosef Salant (Jerusalem, 1885-1981), in his Be’er Yosef, explained that Noach of course did not question G-d’s ability to bring the flood, or if He would tell the truth, but he thought that in His infinite mercy, G-d might rescind the decree. After all, G-d waited 120 years after issuing the decree, and then, as Rashi (7:4) brings from the Gemara, he waited an additional seven days so that the people could mourn the passing of Metushelah, a righteous man. Noach waited to see if G-d would further delay the flood in the hope that the people would repent.

Nevertheless, Noach acted wrongly because he was explicitly commanded to go into the ark. We are to comply with Hashem’s instructions without making our own calculations. Compelling as our own reasoning might seem to us, they can never get in the way of our strict compliance with the Torah’s commands. We must strive to reach the level of “Ken Asa” – where our obedience is complete, unwavering, unhesitating and uncompromised, driven by a fierce desire to faithfully serve our Creator.

By Rabbi YY Jacobson

Insanity

One of the loveliest stories told by the Chassidic master Rabbi Nachman of Breslov goes like this:

A king was informed by his chief minister that there had been a blight on the crops that year. They were affected so greatly that anyone eating the grain would become insane. “But,” said the minister, “there is no need for us to worry. I have set aside enough grain from last year’s harvest for the both of us that will last until the harvest of the following year.” The king shook his head. “No,” he said. “I will not allow myself any privileges other than those shared by my subjects.

“We shall eat of the same grain,” the king continued, “and we shall both go insane together with the rest of the population. But here is what we shall do. You and I will mark our foreheads with an indelible imprint, so that when we go insane, I will look at you and you will look at me and we will know we are insane.”

Why the flood?

“And G-d said to Noach: The end of all flesh has come before me, for the earth is filled with violence; behold, I shall destroy them.” Thereafter, a forty-day-long titanic shower descended from heaven and flooded the earth, putting an end to all of its inhabitants. Growing up in Yeshiva and learning this story each year, I could never comprehend how G-d could actually wipe out an entire world because of its wrongdoings. Even G-d Himself apparently came to the same conclusion after the flood. The Torah relates how following the flood G-d vowed that “I will never again curse the earth because of man; neither will I again smite everything living, as I have done. All days of the earth, the seasons for seed time and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night, shall never cease.” What changed?

Also, why from all ways to destroy civilization, did G-d choose the flood?

The workings of addiction

The Lubavitcher Rebbe explained the tragic tale of the flood in this fashion: The world ought to be a spiritual and G-dly place and man ought to be a spiritual, sacred creature. This is their ultimate purpose and destiny. But during the millennium preceding the flood, the human race defined itself exclusively as a beastly and criminal race. Man corrupted himself and his environment so severely that healing was no longer possible. Destruction was inevitable, a natural consequence of ten centuries flooded with abuse and evil.

Is this not the tragic consequence of all addiction? After decades of frying your brain day after day with alcohol, drugs or other destructive substances or behaviors, you finally manage to kill the last vestige of your soul and your rationality. At this point, healing is not possible anymore. Your mind loses its last ounce of control over your life and you just watch yourself wither away and die. During the time of Noach, man and his world did not yet possess the potential for rehabilitation and self-renewal. Why? Because the spirituality and holiness accessible to the world during the pre-flood era was a gift from above and not intrinsic to the very chemistry of humanity. Like a student who grasps all of the profound teachings of his mentor, but lacks the ability to conceive of an original thought, man was a recipient of the light, but did not own the light. Therefore, as long as man was a loyal pupil of G-d, he remained connected to the source of life. Once man rejected G-d, his existence became valueless and purposeless.

The rains of the flood, described in Kabbalah as “a cosmic Mikvah,” did not only destroy an unsalvageable world; they also cleansed it and purified it, leaving in their wake a new world with a new nature. The mighty waters that were emitted from heaven impregnated the truths of spirituality and G-dliness into the very fabric of the earth. Like a pupil who had been trained by his mentor to think on his own, humanity in the post-flood era absorbed the goodness and harmony of its creator within its very structure. From now on, even if man would alienate himself entirely from his Divine source, he could always recreate himself through the light engraved in the depth of his being.

The flood granted our world the gift and the miracle of recovery. Even in the face of the most horrific abuse, we retain within ourselves a sacred space, an untouchable innocence, from which we can always experience the wonder of rebirth. Though insanity — in all of its forms — may pervade our lives, our souls preserve a memory of a sane world, a world filled with innocence, love, and inner security.

By Rabbi Efrem Goldberg

Most of us don’t wake up in the morning wondering whether we believe in Hashem.

If we were directly asked, we would no doubt say we believe in G-d and trust that He created the world and is involved in our lives. We start our day with Modeh Ani, we make berachos, daven, learn Torah, and then the day begins.

An email arrives that makes our heart race, someone doesn’t return our call, a child is struggling, a shidduch doesn’t work out, the doctor wants another test, business is slow, the flight is delayed, someone says something hurtful, or a plan we were counting on suddenly falls apart. In that moment, the question isn’t whether we believe in Hashem, but whether our belief actually makes a difference. Does emunah change how we react to the email, how much we worry about our children, how we experience waiting for a shidduch, struggling to have a child, facing illness, navigating a difficult relationship, or wondering how we are going to pay the bills?

Is emunah something we know, or is it something we live?

That question is why we are launching Nishmasi. There has probably never been a generation with greater access to Torah and inspiration than ours. We have thousands of shiurim available at the touch of a screen, podcasts on every subject, books, WhatsApp groups, social media accounts, newsletters, clips, and messages arriving all day long.

And yet, more content doesn’t necessarily produce more emunah. We can listen to a powerful shiur about bitachon on the way to work and lose our minds over an email five minutes later. We can forward a beautiful quote about hashgacha pratis and then spend the next three hours obsessing over why something didn’t go according to plan. We can sing “Ein Od Milvado” with enormous feeling and then behave as though everything depends entirely on us. The problem isn’t necessarily access to information. Too often, knowledge lives in one compartment and life lives in another. Of course, there is nothing wrong with inspiration; I spend a significant part of my life trying to provide it. But inspiration without practice is just a feeling, and feelings inevitably fade. We understand this in almost every other important area of our lives. Nobody goes to the gym once and says now they are strong. Nobody eats one healthy meal and declares themselves healthy. Nobody has one meaningful conversation with their spouse and assumes their marriage will now flourish without any further attention.

Muscles grow through exercise, relationships deepen through investment, and habits are formed through repetition. Why should emunah be any different? Emunah isn’t binary. It is not something we either have or don’t have, something we acquired in school or settled intellectually years ago. Emunah isn’t a mitzvah you check off, discharge, or fulfill. Emunah is something we have to exercise, nurture, revisit, and practice. It is an ongoing, dynamic relationship with Hashem, and like every meaningful relationship, it needs time and attention every day.

Indeed, the Ramban, at the end of Parashas Bo (Shemos 13:16), makes an extraordinary statement about the purpose of creation: וכוונת כל- המצות שנאמין- באלקינו ונודה-” The .”אליו שהוא בראנו-, והיא כוונת- היצירה purpose of the mitzvos is that we should believe in Hashem, acknowledge that He created us, and recognize His presence in our lives. This, says the Ramban, is the very purpose of creation. He goes on to explain that the great, supernatural miracles of Yetzias Mitzrayim are meant to teach us to recognize the hidden miracles that surround us constantly, concluding that we בכל דברינו- ומקרינו שכולם-” believe must נסים“, that everything that happens to us is under Hashem’s direction. The purpose of spectacular miracles isn’t simply to marvel at what Hashem did thousands of years ago, but to train ourselves to notice what He is doing in our lives right now. We don’t need the Yam Suf to split to encounter Hashem. We need to open our eyes to the countless ways He is already present. There is an enormous difference between believing in a Creator and living as a creation. The former is a theological conviction, the latter a relationship and a way of life. Living as a creation means recognizing and internalizing that I didn’t put myself here, I am not navigating this world alone, and while I have an obligation to make responsible choices and exercise my free will, I am not the sole author of my story. Emunah doesn’t mean pretending that painful things don’t hurt, suppressing legitimate questions, or convincing ourselves that whatever we want will certainly happen. It means knowing that whatever happens, we are not abandoned, forgotten, or alone. It means learning to see our lives not as a series of random events that we must somehow control, but as an ongoing encounter with Hashem.

That kind of emunah has to be practiced in real time. When an upsetting message arrives, before firing back a response, we can pause and remind ourselves that this moment is also from Hashem and ask Him to help us respond correctly. When something wonderful happens, instead of immediately reaching for the phone to tell everyone else, we can first turn to Hashem to say thank You. When we are lying awake worrying about a child, we can remind ourselves that as much as we love that child, Hashem created and loves that child too, and we aren’t carrying the burden alone. When a shidduch doesn’t work out, we can be disappointed and hurt while still reminding ourselves that we haven’t been forgotten. When a deal falls through, we can work hard to find the next opportunity while remembering that our parnassah never actually came from that external source in the first place. When the doctor calls, we can pursue every responsible avenue of treatment while knowing that we aren’t walking into the appointment by ourselves. That is what it means to live emunah, not as a slogan to post or a concept to study, but as the lens through which we experience the ordinary moments of an ordinary day.

That is why I am so excited to introduce Nishmasi, a new movement we have founded around one simple belief: Emunah shouldn’t just be something we learn, but something we internalize and practice every day.

We are launching Nishmasi with a modest, but hopefully impactful project. Through eight WhatsApp communities dedicated to different areas and stages of life, Nishmasi brings short, daily doses of emunah and chizuk straight to your phone. Whether you are navigating shidduchim, marriage and relationships, illness, fertility, business and finance, loss and grief, anxiety and stress, or simply looking for personal growth, there is a community designed to help you find Hashem in the particular chapter you are living. The goal isn’t to give you another message to read and quickly forget, but to offer a perspective to carry into your day, a thought to remember before a difficult meeting, a reminder before the date, a way to process a disappointment, or a sentence to hold onto during an anxious night. Find the chapter that speaks to you and bring a little more emunah into your everyday life.

Part of what makes this necessary is that life isn’t generic, and therefore the emunah we need at any particular moment can’t always be generic either. The person waiting to find a spouse needs a different conversation from the person struggling in a marriage. Someone going through infertility is living a different emotional reality from someone facing a business crisis. Someone grieving a loss needs something different from someone raising young children, and someone celebrating enormous success has a different emunah challenge from someone who feels that nothing is going right.

That is why Nishmasi is organized not primarily around demographics, but around chapters of life. People of completely different ages, backgrounds and locations can find themselves living the same chapter, carrying similar uncertainty, asking similar questions and trying to find Hashem in the same kind of experience. Our hope is to bring people together not only through the challenges they share, but around their shared determination to grow through those challenges with greater emunah.

We chose a fingerprint as the symbol of Nishmasi because it captures so much of what we hope this movement will inspire. No two people in the world have the same fingerprint, and no two people have the same neshama, the same combination of strengths, challenges, opportunities, and circumstances. Each of us is a unique expression of Hashem’s creation, placed in this world for a reason, entrusted with a mission that nobody else can fulfill quite the way we can. We are not interchangeable, replaceable, or here by accident. So much of our unhappiness comes from comparing ourselves to others, competing with people whose lives look different from ours, or measuring our success against someone else’s journey. But Hashem didn’t create us to be somebody else, and He isn’t asking us to live somebody else’s life. Our task is to discover our own mission, embrace our own place, and become the person Hashem created us to be. Just as our fingerprint is uniquely ours, so is our relationship with Hashem, and that relationship must be nurtured in the particular circumstances and chapter in which we find ourselves. A fingerprint also unlocks things, and our hope is that Nishmasi will help people unlock the enormous potential that already exists within them. We want to help people discover their best selves, to live with greater happiness, calm, confidence, clarity and purpose, not because life will always go according to plan, but because they know Who is guiding the plan. And a fingerprint is also something we leave behind, a mark that testifies that we were here. Each of us has the capacity and responsibility to leave our fingerprints on this world: to make an impact, influence others, contribute something meaningful, and leave a legacy that endures long after we are gone. That is why we called this movement Nishmasi, not a soul or the soul, but my soul. My fingerprint, my mission, my potential, my impact, and my unique, personal relationship with Hashem. Whatever chapter I am in, whatever challenges I am facing, and whatever opportunities lie ahead, my neshama has a purpose that only I can fulfill. Nishmasi is about discovering that purpose, unlocking that potential, and living with the emunah to fulfill it.

Importantly, emunah isn’t only for people whose lives are falling apart. The person who just got engaged needs emunah and the person still waiting needs emunah. The person whose business is struggling needs emunah and the person whose business is booming needs emunah. The person waiting anxiously for test results needs emunah and the person who just received wonderful news needs emunah. The person going through a challenge needs Emunah and the person simply going about a routine day needs Emunah. We need emunah not only to survive our disappointments, but to properly experience our blessings, not only to get through what is painful, but to understand what is pleasurable, not only when we desperately need Hashem to change our circumstances, but when we need to remember that the circumstances we are enjoying came from Him in the first place.

Nishmasi’s message is Faith in Every Chapter because every person is somewhere in their own story, and a relationship with Hashem isn’t something we need during one particular season of life, but during all of them.

This is only the beginning. Our dream is for Nishmasi to become much more than a collection of WhatsApp communities or simply another source of inspirational content. We envision a growing movement of people committed to developing a deeper, more personal, and ongoing relationship with Hashem, supported by practical tools and meaningful opportunities to grow together. In time, we hope to introduce emunah workbooks that help translate inspiration into daily exercises, emunah retreats that allow us to step away from the noise and reconnect with Hashem, and interactive forums where people navigating similar chapters can share experiences and strengthen one another, and much more. Ultimately, we hope Nishmasi will become a place where people don’t simply come to hear about emunah, but find the tools, encouragement, and community to make it a defining part of who they are and how they live.

So instead of asking ourselves only whether we have emunah, perhaps we should ask a much more challenging and practical question: Where did my emunah show up today? Did it show up in how I reacted when something didn’t go my way, in how I worried about my children, in how I responded to success, in how I spoke when I was frustrated, in whether I noticed a blessing, or in whether I turned to Hashem when I was scared? We need to bring Him into our routine: our Monday morning, the office, the boardroom, the waiting room, the tense phone call, into our dating and our marriages, into our parenting and our parnassah, into our celebrations and disappointments, and into whatever chapter we are living right now.

I invite you to visit Nishmasi.org, click Find Your Chapter, and join one or more of the communities that speak to where you are in life. Whether you are facing a challenge, celebrating a blessing, searching for answers or simply looking to grow, I hope you will join me on this journey. Hashem gave each of us a unique fingerprint because He gave each of us a unique mission, and our task is to discover that mission, unlock our potential, and leave our mark on His world. Emunah isn’t built in one dramatic moment or secured by one inspiring shiur. It is built when, in the ordinary moments of an ordinary day, we remember that we are living in Hashem’s world, that He is present in our story, and that whatever chapter we find ourselves in, we can choose not merely to believe in Him, but to live with Him. That is Nishmasi, faith in every chapter.

By Rabbi Shay Tahan

Ask a believing Jew about dinosaurs, and he may wonder whether the subject conflicts with the Torah. After all, scientists speak of creatures that lived millions of years ago. Does the discovery of their remains challenge our faith? Already in Parshat Bereishit, the Torah tells us that Hashem created “the great sea creatures” (Bereishit 1:21). Rashi explains that these were the great fish of the sea. The Gemara in Bava Batra (74b) discusses the Livyatan and relates that Hashem created it male and female, but then killed the female so that they would not reproduce and destroy the world.

The Torah and Chazal thus describe creatures of extraordinary size and power, some of which are beyond our ordinary experience. We should not automatically identify every creature mentioned by Chazal with a particular species known to modern science.

Nevertheless, these sources remind us that the world Hashem created contains wonders far beyond what we encounter in everyday life. The Tiferet Yisrael, Rabbi Yisrael Lipschitz, addresses the discovery of enormous fossilized creatures (in his essay Derush Or HaChaim, printed with his commentary on Seder Nezikin). He discusses the remains of creatures found near Baltimore and elsewhere, including animals known in his time as the mammoth, Iguanodon, and Megalosaurus. He connects these discoveries with the teachings of the Kabbalists concerning worlds that Hashem created and destroyed before the present world.

The Tiferet Yisrael saw these discoveries as consistent with the idea that earlier stages of creation may have contained creatures unlike those familiar to us. He discusses fossilized creatures that we today associate with the prehistoric world.

Another relevant teaching appears in Bereishit Rabbah (3:7), where Rabbi Abahu teaches that Hashem created worlds and destroyed them before creating the present world. The Midrash does not mention dinosaurs, but later Torah scholars have discussed it in connection with questions about the ancient history of the earth.

The Malbim, in his commentary to Bereishit 7:23, offers a different perspective on the remains of enormous creatures. He explains that the Flood’s waters swept away the bodies of animals and carried many of their bones into deep valleys and the depths of the earth. Although some bones were strong enough to survive, they became buried far beneath the surface. According to the Malbim, when Noach left the Ark, he found no trace of the remains of the enormous creatures that had existed before the Flood.

The Malbim’s discussion offers a Torah perspective on how the upheavals of the Flood could have affected the remains of creatures that perished. However, neither he nor the other sources mentioned here explicitly identifies dinosaurs by that modern name or establishes precisely when they lived. The important point is not that every scientific theory must be found explicitly in a pasuk. Rather, we should recognize that the world is far more complex than what we see around us today. Discoveries about ancient creatures do not, in themselves, contradict the Torah. Our faith rests on the truth of the Torah, not on the assumption that we already understand every detail of the world Hashem created.

More Than a Flood

The discussion of ancient creatures raises a broader question: How much did the Flood change the world?

We are accustomed to thinking of the Mabul as a catastrophe that destroyed the people and animals of that generation, after which the world continued much as before. But several Torah commentators describe changes that went far beyond the destruction of life. According to their explanations, the Flood altered the natural conditions under which future generations would live.

The Birth of the Seasons

At the end of the Flood, the pasuk says: “From now on, for all the days of the earth, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night shall not cease” (Bereishit 8:22).

The Sforno explains that the natural order after the Flood differed from what had existed before. He writes that the sun would travel along a path inclined relative to the equator, and that this inclination would bring about the changing seasons. Before the Flood, he explains, the sun’s path remained along the equator, so it was always spring.

The Sforno presents a striking picture of the change that took place after the Flood. To understand his explanation, consider how seasons work today. The earth rotates on its axis and revolves around the sun. Because its axis is tilted, different parts of the world receive different amounts of direct sunlight during the year. When the Northern Hemisphere tilts toward the sun, it experiences summer, while the Southern Hemisphere experiences winter. Six months later, the situation reverses.

The Sforno’s account is his own explanation of the natural order described by the Torah. It should not be confused with the modern scientific explanation of the seasons, which attributes them to the earth’s axial tilt. The Sforno further explains that the change in the natural order brought about a deterioration in the conditions of the world. Before the Flood, the more favorable conditions benefited plants, animals, and human beings and contributed to their long lifespans. The promise that the seasons would continue was therefore more than a promise about the weather. It described a new and enduring natural order.

The Sforno adds that Hashem will ultimately repair the deterioration caused by the Flood. He connects this idea to the pasuk: “For the young man shall die at the age of one hundred” (Yeshayahu 65:20).

In the future, when Hashem renews the world, the conditions that existed before the Flood will be restored.

According to the Sforno, then, the Flood did not merely destroy one generation. It changed the conditions under which all subsequent generations would live.

Rain Once in Forty Years

The Midrash, as cited by the Malbim, describes another difference between the world before and after the Flood. According to this account, illness was unknown before the Flood, and rain fell only once in forty years. The rain was so remarkable that people would gather to witness it, and the land would produce enough to sustain them for years. The account also relates that when one of the Sages of the Gemara suffered from a stiff neck, he attributed it to the consequences of the Flood.

These descriptions portray a world whose conditions differed dramatically from those we know today. The pattern of rainfall, the health of human beings, and the conditions of agricultural life were not necessarily always as they are now.

The Torah’s account of the Flood therefore invites us to consider consequences that extended far beyond the destruction of the generation that lived at the time. According to these sources, the effects of the Mabul continued to shape the world in which later generations lived.

Continental Drift

Another fascinating question concerns the history of the earth: Were the continents once joined together?

In 1915, the German scientist Alfred Wegener published his theory of continental drift. He observed that the eastern coast of South America and the western coast of Africa appear to fit together like pieces of a puzzle. He also pointed to matching fossils, geological formations, and evidence of ancient glaciers found on continents that are now separated by oceans.

One striking example was the discovery of fossils of the same reptile, Mesosaurus, in both South America and Africa. Such findings supported the idea that these continents had once been connected.

Wegener could not initially explain the physical mechanism that moved the continents, and his theory was disputed. Later research developed the modern theory of plate tectonics, which explains how the earth’s plates move over long periods.

Torah sources have also prompted discussion about the history of the earth’s lands. The Zohar Chadash states: “One actual land emerged from the waters, and from it the seven lands developed.” The Zohar Chadash describes the emergence of one land from the waters and the development of seven lands.

Some later writers have connected this passage with the continents as we know them today. That identification, however, is an interpretation rather than an explicit statement of the Zohar. The Torah itself tells us that, at Creation, Hashem gathered the waters so that the dry land would appear: “Let the waters beneath the heavens gather into one place, and let the dry land appear” (Bereishit 1:9).

Later, the Torah records the name Peleg, explaining: “For in his days the earth was divided” (Bereishit 10:25).

These passages have prompted discussion among Torah scholars about the history of the earth and the separation of its lands. We should be careful not to claim that a particular scientific theory is proven by a source that does not explicitly describe it. Still, these sources invite us to reflect on the tremendous changes the earth has undergone and on how much there is yet to understand about the world Hashem created.

Predators and the Tower of Bavel

The Flood changed more than the physical environment. According to the Ramban, the relationship between human beings and animals changed as well.

The Torah records that after the Flood, Hashem permitted Noach and his descendants to eat meat: “Every moving creature that lives shall be yours for food” (Bereishit 9:3).

The Ramban explains that before this point, human beings had been permitted to eat vegetation but not animals. The permission to eat meat marked a new stage in humanity’s relationship with the animal world. The world after the Flood was therefore different in its natural conditions and in the relationship between humanity and other living creatures. The Mabul marked a turning point in the history of the world, with consequences that, according to the commentators, extended well beyond the generation that experienced it.

When we consider the remains of ancient creatures, the changing natural order, and the history of the earth’s lands, we are reminded that the world Hashem created is vast and complex. Torah sources offer profound perspectives on its history, while scientific discoveries continue to uncover details of the natural world. We need not claim that every discovery is explicitly described in the Torah to appreciate that learning about the world can deepen our sense of wonder at Hashem’s creation.

By Rabbi Reuven and Shira Boshnack

Dear Rabbi and Shira, I don’t know what to do. My younger sister is engaged to one of the first guys she dated and honestly, I’m jealous. We are three years apart, and she’s always been “the popular one,” and “the pretty one” and now she is the “engaged one”. It’s not fair that she is moving on to the next stage of life and I am still stuck and may never move on. The fact that my home is now revolving around her isn’t helping. The “soon by you” comments by well-meaning family and friends are making me feel awful, worthless, and pathetic. I want to be happy for my sister, but I am not. I feel bad about my jealousy towards her. I honestly must be the worst sister on this planet. How can I get through this time? Better yet how can I learn to be happy for her and dance with her with joy for her on her wedding day? -Jealous on J

Dear Jealous, It’s difficult when two sisters are close in age and the younger one gets engaged first. It sounds like you are resentful that she has something which you believe rightfully be-longs to you. You mention that it is unfair that she is moving on before you and that you fear you will never get married. These fears and doubts make you question your self-worth and may cause you to believe that you are un-likeable, and no one will ever want to marry you.

In order for you to be happy with yourself and your sisters upcoming marriage, we recom-mend the following: Practice self-compassion. Many of us tend to judge ourselves harshly for experiencing what is part of the normal range of human emo-tions. In your head you are telling yourself that you are a bad sister and you should be happy for her. However, these “shoulds” only makes the situation more difficult, and open the door for other uncomfortable emotions, like shame and anxiety.

The way we talk to ourselves, impacts the way that we feel. Instead of berating yourself, engage in positive self-talk. Normalize your experience. It’s understandable to feel upset when someone else has something that you want. Conflicting emotions are hard to deal with, but they are more common than you’d think. While it is normal to be jealous of your sister, also know it is possible to be happy for her at the same time. Next time you are feeling jealous, interrupt envy with gratitude. It is true that when we are upset with our circumstances, it can be more difficult to practice gratitude. However, the reality is that these are the moments when we need it the most. Gratitude is not about ig-noring what we desire but choosing to focus on the things we do have that bring us value or joy. By focusing on what you are grateful for, you will not overwhelm yourself with what you lack. It’s important to adjust ones perspective, when life is not working the way we would want. Our human nature is to be vigilant to po-tential threats, therefore our first reactions to negative events are stronger, speak with authority but may not be valid at all. We may wildly distort the magnitude and meaning of these situations. It is important to fact check those beliefs and decide whether the explana-tions are true or false. For example, you may feel worthless because you are not engaged, but the fact is, it doesn’t make you worthless. Hashem Yisborach gave you a unique Ne-shama, something of infinite worth. Hashem would not have put you here if you did not have value. Remember, someone else’s success doesn’t change your worth, but what it can do is flavor your feelings. While feelings come and go; our worth doesn’t change. Please make sure to separate facts from feelings.

Although your sister’s engagement is a very large portion of her life right now, try to dis-cuss other things with her so that the two of you can connect in other ways. Try to see that her engagement hasn’t taken anything from you, your wellbeing, or your future husband. Hashem has a different plan for you than the one you are expecting, hold on, you’ll see where it takes you.

By working on the practices mentioned, Bez-ras Hashem you will get through challenging time with your sister and rejoice with her on her wedding day.

If you are still finding it difficult, you might want to seek counseling with a mental health professional.

Rabbi Reuven and Shira Boshnack.

By Rabbi Yissocher Frand

The “Ki Tov” (That It Was Good) of Monday Was Delayed Until Tuesday

The third day of Creation [Bereishis 1:9-13] is the only day in which the expression “G-d saw that it was good” is mentioned twice. This expression is mentioned both following the gathering of the waters which divided the seas from the dry land, and following the sprouting of vegetation and seed- bearing plants – both of which occurred on the third day of Creation. As a result of the fact that Tuesday had a double portion of “ki tov” [that it was good], Tuesday is considered a particularly fortuitous day of the week. Many people specifically plan their wedding for this day. When moving into a new house, many people plan to move on Tuesday. Many people try to start a new job on Tuesday.

On the other hand, on the second day of Creation, there is no mention at all of the expression “that it was good”. Rash”i comments that the reason “ki tov” is not mentioned on the second day is because the creation of the water (i.e. – its assignment to the seas) was not completed until the third day. A value judgment of “ki tov” could not be pronounced until the work was complete. Therefore “ki tov” is mentioned twice on Tuesday – once in connection with the completion of the water (which was started previously) and once in connection with the vegetation (which was both started and completed on that same day).

This, however, begs for further explanation. G-d is all powerful. What does it mean that “he did not complete the job on Monday?” Why not? Clearly, He does not become tired or run out of time. Rather, He purposely did not finish the job on Monday. What is this trying to teach us?

The Shemen HaTov writes that the Holy One, Blessed Be He, is teaching us a lesson through the events of Creation that we as human beings must learn. This lesson is that “it’s not over, until it’s over.” Sometimes things occur in life and we do not see the benefit therein. Sometimes we do not understand exactly what is happening.

Sometimes we will be able to understand what the event was really about, on the very next day. Then we will see the benefit of the inexplicable occurrence of the previous day. In the middle of creating the world, the All Powerful went out of His way to leave something undone, to leave something with a question mark at the end of the day, to leave something where the “ki tov” was not immediately apparent. The lesson is that “life” follows the same pattern as the days of Creation. We do not always immediately perceive the “ki tov”. Life would be much easier to live if within 24 hours we would immediately perceive that elusive “ki tov”. Sometimes we do not even understand events the following week or year. Sometimes we do not even understand until the next lifetime. But the lesson of the delayed “ki tov” is that we should not expect to always see immediate results and immediate outcomes. Sometimes the good does not come until later. G-d disrupted the order of Creation, leaving something purposely unfinished, in order to teach us this crucial lesson of life.

By Rabbi Moshe Meir Weiss

We know that every word of the Torah contains infinite wisdom. Indeed, one could dedicate many lifetimes to even just one word of the Torah. While this is true of every word, probably the Torah’s most studied word is the first word in the Torah, “Bereishis – In the Beginning.” It has never failed to amaze me how many secrets are lurking in this one word. Likewise, every year I am astounded to find new insights and lessons here in very first word of the Torah. My wonderful friend and talmid, Mr. Mendy Schwartz, shlit”a, once shared with me some new ideas that I am delighted to pass along to you.

It is now the universal custom that we start reading the Torah in Shul once again on the first Shabbos after Simchas Torah. How fascinating that the word Bereishis, with its individual letters beis, reish, alef, shin, yud, and saf, is an acronym for “Yikra’u b’Shabbos rishon achar Simchas Torah.”

Rav Yonason Shteif, zt”l, zy”a, (who was Mesader Kidushin at my parents’ wedding), cites a Medrash stating that the letter shin denotes learning Torah. This is because shin stands for shinun, which means ‘to learn.’ He points out that if you remove the shin, signifying learning, from the word Bereishis, the sum of the remaining letters equals taryag. Taryag is the word that denotes the 613 mitzvos of the Torah because it’s the exact gematria of 613. Thus, the very first word in the Torah indicates the Torah’s mission, for us to learn the 613 mitzvos.

Likewise, the Vilna Gaon taught us that within the word Bereishis is an allusion to all the 613 mitzvos. For example, the Gaon would say Bereishis refers to pidyon haben. How? Once again, the individual letters of Bereishis (in order) stand for “Ben Rishon Achar SHloshim Yomim Tifdeh – One’s first son, after thirty days he should redeem.” One of the highlights of a Jewish man’s day is the frequent public sanctification of Hashem’s Name in Kaddish. He does this by answering, “Amein, yehei SHmei rabbah…” That’s why the letters in Bereishis stand for, “Ameim, yehei SHmei rabbah b’kol tefilah.”

We all know that the three cardinal sins of Judaism are idolatry, immorality and bloodshed. Less known is the fourth cardinal sin: to embarrass someone publically. For this heinous crime, the Gemara in Masechtas Sanhedrin tells us that that the habitual perpetrator is stripped of his Afterlife. Thus, in the first word of the Torah, Hashem warns us about this terrible crime because we find that the words yorei boshes, which is a directive meaning ‘be ever fearful from embarrassing someone.’ Yorei boshes is an anagram of the letters in Bereishis.

We also know that the very survival of the Jewish people hinges upon Shabbos observance. When a family is so assimilated that they don’t even observe Shabbos, sadly intermarriage is only a few steps away. Thus, Bereishis is also an acronym of yorei Shabbos, meaning ‘be ever mindful of the Shabbos.’ The last Mishna in Shas teaches us that in the Afterlife every righteous person is destined to inherit shai olomos. Shai is spelled with two letters, shin and yud, which equals 310 in gematria. Shai olomos means ‘worlds of pleasure.’ Thus, the word Bereishis is also an anagram of “Borosa shai – He created 310 worlds,” (and not just one world). For this reason, the tribe representing Torah is called Yisasschar, which is an anagram of “Shai schar – The reward is 310.”

It is well known the Vilna Gaon states that the letters of Bereishis stands for the six most important pursuits of life: bitachon, ratzon, ahavah, shtika, yirah and Torah. These are 1) Trust in Hashem, 2) Proper will to do the right things in life, 3) Correct kinds of love such as love for Hashem, a spouse and a fellow man, and the proper ways to love oneself, 4) Knowing when to remain silent, 5) Fear of Hashem, and 6) Study of Torah. I have also seen other versions of this, also from the Gaon. In another, saf stands for Tefilah, prayer, and shin stands for either simcha, happiness, or shkeidah, diligence.

One of my favorite anagrams for the word Bereishis is Rashi savo! The first word of the Torah informs us that the great teacher of Torah, Rashi will come and unlock many meanings of the Torah for us.

The letters of Bereishis also spell “B’Alef Tishrei – The first of (the month) Tishrei.” This informs us that, as the world was created on the 25th of Elul, Man, the purpose of creation, was created six days later on the first day of Tishrei, which is Rosh Hashannah, the beginning of the year. There is a complex and exciting branch of gematria known as A”T Ba”Sh, pronounced at-bash. This is where the letter alef equals tuf, the beis equals shin, the gimel equals reish, and so on throughout the alef-beis. It is hard to spot this kind of gematria but there are many secrets to unearth using this methodology. For example, in A”T B”Sh, the word tzedakah is still tzedakah, since it is meant to convey that charity is a two-way street: We give to the poor and then Hashem gives us back. Similarly, the words Lech L’cha, (the Divine directive to Avraham Avinu to leave his homeland and go to the “promised” land) is also Lech L’cha in A”T Ba”Sh. Perhaps this is meant to convey that although Avraham was told to leave his birthplace, he was also told that Eliezer would go back there to find a wife for Yitzchak.

Mendy Schwartz pointed out to me that within the word Bereishis itself are the letters of a”t ba”sh, or alef, suf, beis, and shin. The two letters that remain are reish and yud. These letters in A”T Ba”Sh are the letters gimel and mem. Thus, it means when A”T Ba”Sh is applied to the word Bereishis, it can be read, “Gam A”T Ba”Sh – Also A”T Ba”Sh,” teaching us that Torah should also be interpreted with A”T Ba”Sh. If this sounds too complicated, the letters of the next word of the Torah, the word after Bereishis, is bora. In A”T B”Sh, the letters of bora, (beis, reish, and alef,) become shin, gimel, and suf, which has the numerical value of 703. Amazingly, 703 is the exact numerical value of the letters “A”T Ba”Sh.” Thus, this method of gematria is clearly alluded to in the very first two words of the Torah.

While Mendy was showing this to me, I realized to my surprise that when rearranged, the letters A”T Ba”Sh spell Av Sheis, the father of Sheis. Thus, if we take out the alef, beis, shin, and suf from the word Bereishis, we’re left with reish and yud which can stand for yichus rishon, first pedigree, or Reishis Yisroel, the beginning of the nation of Israel, for Adam and Chava’s first two children were not the progenitors of Klal Yisroel. This is because Hevel was murdered and Kaiyin and his descendents were wiped out by the flood. Thus, all mankind descended from Sheis. All of this is forecast in the first word of Bereishis, which tells us that the yichus rishon of Sheis, meaning the first genealogy in the world is that Adam HaRishon is the father of Sheis. This is just a sampler to whet your appetite of the many, many, many, secrets that are lurking in just one word. May it be the will of Hashem that we have long life and good health to enjoy the sweetness of the Torah until the coming of the Moshiach, speedily and in our day.

By Rabbi Moshe Elefant

Q: Can one buy unflavored hot coffee both regular and/or decaf from any non-kosher establishment such as Starbucks or a Dunkin Donuts without a hechsher?

This is a very complicated question. I often see people coming out of Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts or other non-kosher establishments with a cup of coffee. I’m not going to delve into the issue of the milk that’s being used if you’re careful about cholov yisroel, because even if they have a container of cholov yisroel milk at the counter, since there’s no mashgiach, you cannot be sure that they did not just go out and buy a container of cholov Yisroel milk, and then filled it up with something else. You cannot trust that it’s cholov yisroel. But taking the cholov yisroel issue aside, either because you are not careful about cholov Yisroel or because you’re going to drink coffee without milk. The issue is as follows: They prepare the coffee with the same utensils they use to prepare other food items that they sell. Those utensils need to be washed. Typically they’re washed in the same dishwasher they use to clean the other pots, pans, silverware and whatever other utensils they have in the establishment. The utensils that are being used to prepare your coffee may have also been used for preparing non-kosher meat, or cheese. Even if the same utensils are not being used to make your coffee, they certainly are being washed in the same dishwasher.

I’m asked this question quite often, and people argue that since they use soap and detergent in the dishwasher, the utensils being washed in there, would become pogum (foul tasting) from the soap in the dishwasher. This is the way I look at it: If somebody has at home a dairy dishwasher and a meat dishwasher and by accident a dairy spoon was put into your meat dishwasher, there are many halachic considerations as to why it’s not a problem. Yet, when I tell people it is not a problem, they don’t want to listen to me, they just want to throw away the dishwasher. “How can I use a fleishig dishwasher that washed a milchig spoon”? even though it only happened once by accident (I actually applaud that attitude because it shows a seriousness about kashrus and keeping our home kosher). However, that same person who is so meticulous in keeping such perfect separation in their home, won’t have a problem drinking the coffee that was prepared with utensils that are used on a regular basis for treif and are washed in a dishwasher with treif keilim. So, I strongly feel that one should not buy a coffee in a shop that also sells treif food.

Now if you have a coffee shop that only sells coffee then it’s a whole different situation, but that’s not typically the case.

By Rabbi Elimelech Biderman

There’s a counsel of making a kabbalah tovah that draws the holiness of the yomim tovim for the entire year.

There are some other counsels to hold onto the light and influence of the yomim tovim, which we will discuss here: The Arugas HaBosem zt’l writes, “On Rosh Hashanah, Hashem shines to people the attribute of fear. A person can draw yiras Shamayim from this day for the entire year. During Aseres Yemei Teshuvah, a light of teshuvah shines, and especially on the holy day [of Yom Kippur]. Then it is Succos, the time of our happiness and Hashem shines to the hearts of His nation to be happy when they serve Hashem, and when they study Torah and perform good deeds, and this influence can remain for the entire year. “However, Hashem looked at the final generation, the poor and weak generation, and he saw that these holy days will come and no one considers, in a sincere manner, to be aroused. When the holiday passes, the person makes a cheshbon hanefesh, and he thinks about how the holy days passed, and he didn’t attain anything. What should he do now, that these days have already passed? It is impossible to bring the days back… But [Yaakov Avinu] established for generations that even after the days pass, when a person thinks that he wants to come back to these days, he receives the light of those days in his thoughts.” This is what happened to Yaakov Avinu. He passed Har HaMoriah, and then he asked himself, “How did I pass the place where my parents prayed, and I didn’t pray there?” He turned to go back, and the place of Har HaMoriah came to him, as Chazal (Sanhedrin 95b) tell us. So, too, when a person desires the days that passed, they come to him. This can happen any day, throughout the year.

This can explain the minhag of several communities to continue the customs of Tishrei until Shabbos Berieshis. On this Shabbos, they still dip challah in honey, and they keep the white parochos hanging over the aron kodesh. This is to show that we can still draw back the holidays, even after the yomim tovim passed.

Rebbe Menachem Mendel of Riminov zt’l had another counsel to connect the spirituality of the yomim tovim to the entire year, and he would often say it to his chasidim: During the yomim tovim, Hakadosh Baruch Hu shines a great light on all Yidden. This light sharpens their minds to understand Torah and to succeed in avodas Hashem. But when the yom tov passes, the light leaves them. But if the person is wise, he will learn a lot of Torah the moment the yom tov passes. This will help that the great light will remain with him, and he can benefit from it the entire year to come close to Hashem (Kol Yaakov, Emor).

If he didn’t benefit from this counsel at the moment the yom tov passed, it still isn’t too late. Reb Chaim Palagi (sefer Chaim 36) writes, “We have a kabbalah that the way you serve Hashem on the twelve days after yom tov, that is how it will be always throughout the year. Therefore, there is an old custom to be holy on these days. People gather in their homes on these twelve days to review what they learned – each person, according to what he studies – and this is a wonderful segulah that Hashem will help him the entire year. Wherever he turns, in Torah, in chassidus, and also in business, he will succeed.”

The Chida (Moreh b’Ezba 298) writes, “After the yom tov, and it is Cheshvon, one should be strong with yiras Shamayim and with learning Torah l’shmah, because it is the beginning of the year. This is a good sign for the entire year. Now, it is close to the Aseres Yemei teshuvah, and a person has to show that his teshuvah was sincere, and it wasn’t just a show, chas ve’shalom. If he will throw off the yoke of heaven now, and be lax in avodas Hashem, it won’t be good, chas v’shalom. Therefore, do the opposite and make a good sign for the entire year. Run like the mighty to study Torah and to perform the mitzvos…” One night, Reb Eizek Reb Yekel’s of Krakow (niftar 370 years ago) dreamed that there was a large treasure under a bridge. So, he went to the bridge, and a police officer stopped him and asked him what he was doing. Reb Eizik told him the truth. “I dreamed that there’s a great treasure under this bridge.”

The officer replied, “Why do you take dreams seriously? I also had a dream. I dreamt there’s a great treasure under the oven of a Yid called Reb Eizik Reb Yekel’s of Krakow. I’m not crazy. I didn’t go seeking a Reb Eizik Reb Yekel’s in Krakow. It was a dream, and dreams don’t mean anything.”

Reb Eizik heard what the policeman said and was shocked. The police dreamed that there was a treasure in his home! He had mentioned his name. He didn’t tell the goy that he was Eizik Reb Yekel’s. He immediately went home, dug under his oven, found a great treasure there, and became very wealthy.

With a portion of the money, he built a beautiful shul in Krakow called “Reb Eizik Reb Yekel’s Shul.”

Tzaddikim tell this story, and they teach various lessons from it.

One year, after Yom Kippur, the Imrei Chaim of Viznitz zt’l (Likutei Imrei Chaim, Motzei Yom Kippur) repeated this story and explained that people think that Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are the treasure because on these days we reach high spiritual levels. But when these awesome days arrive, they discover that they have the treasure within themselves. They have so much potential. They have so much talent. There is so much that they can do.

This is the avodah after the yomim tovim pass, to find the treasures that are within you.

By Rabbi Eli Mansour

What was Adam thinking?

Of course, eating the fruit from the forbidden tree was wrong, and he – along with all humankind – was punished as a result. But we would certainly expect that he had some rationale, some thought process that justified this action in his mind. What might have led him to eat fruit which G-d had explicitly commanded him not to eat? The Arizal explains the spiritual effects of Adam’s sin, how it fundamentally transformed the human being. Before his sin, the Yeser Ha’ra was external to the person, not part and parcel of his being. Adam was pure and pristine, with a natural inclination to act the right way and do the right thing. Although temptation existed, it could be avoided. A person could keep a distance from sources of temptation, and serve G-d easily, without any inner resistance or inner struggle.After the sin, however, everything became a struggle. As we all know, virtually every good deed we do requires some degree of effort, a “tug-of-war” between our desire to do the right thing and the desire to do the wrong thing. This ongoing struggle was introduced once Adam and Havah partook of the forbidden fruit. This explains Adam’s rationale when he decided to eat the fruit that Havah brought him.

Imagine a baseball team that shows up ready to play a game, but after the pregame workouts and batting practice, just before the first pitch, the other team decides to forfeit the game. The first team will of course be happy to be credited with a win, but it won’t feel very proud of this victory. But if the game is played, and it goes into extra innings, with both teams playing hard, and the game is won in dramatic fashion in the 14th inning – the team will go home feeling very gratified over its hard-fought win.

Adam reasoned that he could draw closer to G-d by inviting the Yeser Ha’ra into his being, by accepting the challenge of perpetual spiritual struggle. Serving G-d without this inner conflict would be like winning via a forfeit, without a fight, whereas serving G-d by constantly resisting lures and temptations would be a hard-fought triumph each and every day of his life. This is what Adam wanted. He strove for greatness, and he understood that greatness is achieved only through hard work and struggle. He thus decided to subject himself to the difficult challenges of the Yeser Ha’ra so he would have to wage a lifelong battle against them.

Nevertheless, Adam was wrong. This decision was sinful – so sinful, in fact, that it brought to the world numerous curses, including death itself.

The reason why Adam was wrong is very simple – because Hashem told him not to eat the fruit. No human being can ever try to “outsmart” G-d or think that he has a better idea than G-d had. And no human being can ever think that he can draw close to G-d by disobeying G-d’s command. No matter how certain a person is that a certain action will propel him to great spiritual heights and enhance his relationship with Hashem – he must not commit that act if Hashem Himself proscribed it. It is impossible to serve G-d by disobeying G-d.

The Gemara teaches that the “Zuhama” (“filth”) of Adam’s sin remained until the time of Matan Torah, when Beneh Yisrael stood at Har Sinai and accepted the Torah. They proclaimed, “Na’aseh Ve’nishma” (“We will do and we will hear” – Shemot 24:7), committing themselves unconditionally to G-d’s will. They declared their unbridled obedience, that they would observe every command without any hesitation and without rationalization. This corrected the ill that plagued mankind since the time of Adam’s sin, the tendency to arrogantly subject G-d’s commands to human logic and reasoning.

Tragically, however, Beneh Yisrael fell once again just 40 days later, when they worshipped the golden calf. The Ramban and others explain that Beneh Yisrael did not worship they golden calf as a deity. They made a graven image not to replace the Almighty, but rather to replace Moshe, their leader and prophet through whom they served G-d – and whom they had assumed was never returning. Their intentions may have been noble – but they erred by directly disobeying the explicit command not to build an idol for religious worship.

Religious observance cannot be diluted or altered to suit our own ideas, our own preferences, or our own perceptions of right and wrong. No matter how convinced we might be that a certain course action is “spiritual” or religiously beneficial, and serves to advance our relationship with G-d, it must not be followed if it violates Hashem’s word, if it transgresses the Torah that He gave us. Adam’s mistake reminds us that even the noblest intentions cannot justify disobedience. Real Abodat Hashem (service of Gd) begins when we humbly trust His wisdom more than our own.

By Chaya Sora Jungreis-Gertzulin

Shabbos Bereishis. Back to the very beginning. Restarting the weekly cycle. Parshas Bereishis opens with the story of creation. The Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson zt”l, teaches that we should understand Bereishis not as a part of the past, but as an ongoing constant creation. Every moment is a new bereishis, a new beginning. Each day brings opportunities to make personal life changes and recreate ourselves.

We are just coming off the Yomim Tovim of Rosh HaShanah, Yom Kippur and Succos/ Simchas Torah. We are on a spiritual high. Hold on to the inspiration. As we start reading the weekly parshah once again, let’s make an extra effort to increase our Torah learning. How fortunate we are to be living in a time when there is a plethora of Torah literature, live and online classes. All we have to do is avail ourselves of all the resources out there. Make this Shabbos your bereishis, your new beginning. Make it a Shabbos of learning.

In 1973, my mother, The Rebbetzin, had her “bereishis” moment. She did something that had never been done before—she stood in Madison Square Garden and spoke about what it means to be a Torah Jew. Before diving into an undertaking of such magnitude, my mother, together with her father, HaRav Avraham HaLevi Jungreis zt”l, sought out the brachos of several rabbonim. Amongst them was HaRav Yosef Henkin, one of the most senior Torah sages at that time. Rav Henkin gave his blessings, saying that any project undertaken l’shem Shamayim, for the sake of HaShem, will surely succeed.

Rav Henkin then added poignant words, asking my mother to teach the Jewish people to use their years on earth to strengthen their soul with Torah and mitzvos. This will enable them to stand before The One Above after 120 with dignity and confidence. Rav Henkin was elderly and frail at the time. His eyesight was failing. He asked my mother to share with her listeners that she met a rabbi whose eyes were no longer able to see, eyes that became “tzvei shtick fleish”, two pieces of flesh that are no longer able to do their job.

Rav Henkin’s words were powerful – how important it is to study while one is still able to do so. As Pirkei Avos (2:4) teaches us, “Al tomar k’sheh’efneh eshneh, do not say when I have free time I will learn, shemah lo tiphaneh, because you may never have free time. A strong warning against procrastination, specifically regarding spiritual growth, self-improvement, and learning.

The Talmud teaches us about not making excuses for neglecting Torah study. It depicts a scene in the Heavens Above. The neshamos of three individuals are called upon to stand before the Beis Din shel Ma’aloh, The Heavenly Court. Separately, each one is asked why they didn’t allot time for Torah study.

The first tells of living a poverty-stricken life. With great difficulty he scraped together a meager living. To which the tribunal responds, “Were you poorer than Hillel?” Hillel worked hard as a woodcutter, yet he didn’t allow his life circumstances to stop him from Torah study. His love for learning was so intense, that when he lacked the few coins to enter the Beis Medrash of Shmaya and Avtallion, he climbed to the rooftop, laying down with his ear pressed to the skylight, taking in words of learning. Once, on a cold winter day, Hillel fell asleep and was soon blanketed with snow. The next morning, as Shmaya and Avtallion entered the beis medrash, they noticed that it was unusually dark. They looked above and saw the form of a man blocking the skylight. A frozen Hillel was brought down and quickly warmed up. Hillel obligates the poor.

Next, the second soul appears before The Heavenly Court, He, too, is asked why he didn’t occupy himself with Torah learning. He responds that his wealth got in the way. He was totally preoccupied managing his assets, his funds, his properties. “Were you wealthier than Rabbi Elazar ben Charsom?” Rabbi Elazar inherited a vast fortune from his father, 1,000 cities and 1,000 ships. Yet, he lived a modest and humble life, making time daily for Torah study.

Rabbi Elazar ben Charsom obligates the financially well-off.

The third soul now stands before the tribunal. When asked why he didn’t set aside time for Torah study, he said his life was filled with passion and temptation, distracting him from Torah learning. To him, the court gives the example of Yosef HaTzaddik. Yosef was a slave in Egypt, separated from his family and source of support, yet he resisted and ran from the advances of his master’s wife. Yosef found strength by always remembering the Torah he learned from his father, Yaakov. Teachings that gave him to willpower and capacity to withstand the influence of Egyptian society.

Yosef obligates the sinful and immoral. There will always be reasons. There will always be excuses. But when it comes to Torah, there can be no excuses. We all have life. Stress. Distractions. Pressures. Temptations. Obligations. Issues. But the time is now. It’s Shabbos Bereishis. Utilize it well.

On Shabbos Bereishis, not only do we begin a new parshah cycle, but we also bentch the new month of Cheshvan. Shabbos Bereishis is our bridge from Tishrei, our month of spiritual inspiration, to Cheshvan, and the rest of the months of the year.

The Tzemach Tzedek teaches, “The way one stands on Shabbos Bereishis, sets the blueprint and momentum for the entire year.” Our attitude and our desire to grow with Torah knowledge on Shabbos Bereishis remains with us the entire year. Torah study gives us hadrachah, a way of life. A value system. My mother would often quote Ben Bag Bag’s famous teaching, “Hafoch bah, v’hafoch bah, d’kula bah, Delve into it, and continue to delve into it, for everything is in it.” No matter how many times one studies, no matter how many times we read the parshah, we will always find new understandings, teachings and wisdom. Every pasuk, every word, every letter, comes with its life lessons. It’s up to us to explore the words of the Torah, to learn and relearn the parshah.

It is said that when we daven, we are talking to HaShem. When we learn Torah, HaShem is talking to us. Let’s use our Shabbos Bereishis well. To start the year with learning, listening to HaShem’s messages to us. Let’s remember Rav Henkin’s words, to study while we still can. To think of Hillel, Rav Elazar ben Charsom and Yosef. And may this Shabbos Bereishis be a lasting bridge to all the months of the year.

By Rabbi YY Jacobson

“I do not expect from you to refrain from sin because of a lack of interest in sin; I want you to abstain from sin because of a lack of time for it.”

— Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Kutzk, to his disciples. “The world says, ‘Time is money.’ I say, ‘Time is life.’”

—Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, the Lubavitcher Rebbe, to my father, Gershon Jacobson, in 1985.

Cheating on the Shabbos?

The marvelous invention of the Shabbos, a day in which we put our stressful lives on hold and dedicate a day to our souls, loved ones, and spiritual growth, is introduced in this week’s parsha, the opening section of the Torah.

“And G-d saw all that He had made [during the six days of creation], and, behold, it was very good. And there was evening and there was morning, the sixth day. Thus, the heaven and the earth were completed, and all their array. G-d completed, on the seventh day, His work, which He had done, and He abstained on the seventh day from all His work which He had done. G-d blessed the seventh day and sanctified it, because on it He ceased from all His work.”

The contradiction is striking. On the one hand the Torah states that G-d “abstained on the seventh day from all His work which He had done; G-d blessed the seventh day and sanctified it, because on it He ceased from all His work.” This would mean that G-d completed His work on the sixth day, followed by a day of rest. Yet the very same verse declares that “G-d completed His work on the seventh day,” meaning that He completed the work on the seventh, not on the sixth, day.

Divine Punctuality

The Midrash and Rashi offer the following explanation: A human being, incapable of determining the precise moment of nightfall, can’t establish the exact moment when Friday ends and Saturday begins. Therefore, Jewish law obligates us to begin observing the Shabbos a short while before it begins. G-d, on the other hand, knows the exact moment when Friday merges into Shabbos, and therefore, on the first Friday of creation, He continued His work throughout the entire day, until the end of the very last moment before the Shabbos began. Since G-d would not cease building His world until the moment that Shabbos began, it appeared as if He completed His work on the Shabbos day itself. Because of this appearance, the verse states that G-d completed His work “on the seventh day,” since that is how it looked from a human vantage point.

But why? What was the purpose of G-d working all the way till Shabbos and making it appear that He is “violating” the holy day? What compelled G-d to give off this false impression that He was laboring on the Shabbos? And why would the Torah be interested is relating this detail to us?

Cherish the Moment

It is here that we are presented with one of the important contributions of Judaism to civilization: the value of time. For six full days G-d created a universe that is extraordinary in its magnitude and grandeur. During this week, the Creator fashioned a cosmos of endless mystery and limitless depth. One could not conceive of a more accomplished and successful week. Following such a fruitful and productive work week, as the sixth day was winding down, G-d had the full right to sit back and enjoy His grand achievement.

Comes the Torah and declares—no! As long as there was even one moment remaining during which the building of a world can continue, G-d would not stop.

How to Manage Your Time

We, too, are builders of the world, in the lovely Talmudic phrase, “partners of the Divine in the work of creation.” G-d built a physical world out of Divine energy; our job is to build spiritual energy out of a physical world; to transform the universe into a moral and sacred space, saturated with light and goodness.

Comes the Torah and teaches that even if you have already employed your strengths to build a beautiful world; even if you have affected many people, ignited many hearts, and touched many souls, as long as you have the capacity to construct one more heart, inspire one more soul, empower one more mind, and transform one more individual—do not cease from the sacred work.

G-d continues to fashion His world up to, and including, the last possible moment, in order to teach us: Carpe Diem! Every moment of life contains infinite value. If there is still one human being you can touch, do not desist. Sometimes, you may have accomplished so much during your life, and you feel that it is time to slow down. Comes the Torah and says: If you still have life in your bones, and there is one soul for whom you can make a difference—do not stop.

The Final Blow

What is more, the Torah emphasizes that “On the seventh day G-d completed His work.” The work G-d had done during the final moments of the sixth day brought to completion all the amazing work of the six preceding days.

The same is true in our individual lives. The work you do in the final moments of your “week,” may seem small and insignificant, relative to all the great things you did earlier. But in actuality, these final acts may be the ones that complete your life’s mission. You never know the full significance of a singular act.

Just as this is true in each of our personal lives, it also holds true about all of history. Our generation, has been compared in Jewish texts to the “Friday” afternoon of history, moments before the Shabbos of history arrives. We may often view our daily involvement in acts of kindness, in the study of Torah and observance of Mitzvos as inconsequential in the big picture. After millennia of great people doing great things, what can I, a small person, already accomplish?

In truth, however, it is the small and ordinary things that we do in our lives today that grant completion to 6,000 years of love, commitment, and sacrifice. It is our “final touch” that will turn the world into a G-dly place and bring redemption to our turbulent planet.

We are the fortunate ones to bring it all to completion.

INGREDIENTS:

Two heads of cauliflower,
cut into small florettes
2 tbsp each:
miso paste
maple syrup
1 tsp each:
Olive oil
Soy sauce
Mirin
Rice wine vinegar
Sesame oil
Ginger powder

DIRECTIONS:

Place on baking sheet in preheated 375 degree oven for 35
to 45 minutes until cauliower is for tender and starting to
brown. Enjoy!

3 INGREDIENT HOT HONEY CHICKEN WINGS

DIRECTIONS:

We are big wing fans! This recipe could not be easier. It only has three ingredients-
Chicken wings, your favourite barbecue spice rub (I am partial to anything bone suckin

sauce), and hot honey. Just toss your wings in the spice rub and add as much hot honey
as you desire. Preheat your oven to 375°. On a parchment line baking sheet place your
wings. Bake in the oven for approximately 45 minutes – 1 hour until crispy and golden.

By Rabbi Aryeh Lebowitz

And G-d blessed the seventh day and He hallowed it, for thereon He abstained from all His work that G-d created to

do. ~ Bereishis 2:3 Is a woman obligated to recite havdalah? Traditionally, a man recites havdalah and a woman fulfills this mitzvah by listening. However, is this merely a social phenomenon or is there halachic basis to discourage women from reciting havdalah themselves?

Is Havdalah a Torah or Rabbinic Mitzvah?

Before we understand a woman’s obligation, we must first analyze the fundamental mitzvah of havdalah, both in terms of its source and the level of obligation. The Rambam (Hilchos Shabbos 29:1, Sefer HaMitzvos mitzvah 155) writes that there is a Torah obligation to sanctify the Shabbos both when it begins and when it ends, and this is accomplished by reciting the text of kiddush at the onset of Shabbos and havdalah at the conclusion. Thus, while the specific formulation as printed in our siddurim is rabbinic, the basic obligation of both kiddush and havdalah is from the Torah.

However, the Maggid Mishneh on the Rambam and the Teshuvos HaRosh (11:3) argue that although kiddush is a Torah obligation, havdalah is fully rabbinic. These two views may revolve around a fundamental dispute as to the purpose of the mitzvah of kiddush. The Rambam maintains that kiddush is meant to praise the day and to speak of its holiness and goodness, which is appropriate both at the beginning and at the end of Shabbos. However, the Maggid Mishneh and the Rosh understand that the mitzvah of kiddush is to sanctify the day and endow it with holiness, similar to the way that the beis din sanctifies Rosh Chodesh. The act of sanctifying and infusing holiness into the day only makes sense at its beginning. According to this perspective, havdalah cannot be considered part of the Torah mitzvah of kiddush and must be a distinct obligation.

Are Women Obligated?

Generally, women are exempt from time-bound positive mitzvos — “mitzvos aseh shehazman grama,” however, the mitzvos of Shabbos are an important exception to this rule. The Gemara (Berachos 20b) notes a discrepancy in the wording of the mitzvah of Shabbos between the first and second recordings of the Aseres HaDibros: in the first recording of the Ten Commandments (Shemos 20:8), the Torah commands “zachor,” “remember the Shabbos to make it holy,” while in the second recording of the ten commandments (Devarim 5:12) the Torah commands “shamor,” “guard the Shabbos to make it holy.” The Gemara explains that Hashem spoke both words, “remember” and “guard” simultaneously, and that anyone obligated in one must be obligated in the other. In other words, the mitzvos of zechiras Shabbos and shemiras Shabbos are intertwined and cannot be separated. Since women are obligated in “guarding” Shabbos, which includes refraining from performing the thirty-nine prohibited categories of work on Shabbos, they are also obligated in “remembering” Shabbos, which is the source of the positive mitzvah to recite kiddush and sanctify the Shabbos.

While one could argue that zechirah only refers to the mitzvah of kiddush (and reasonably conclude that the only positive mitzvah of Shabbos that women are obligated in is kiddush), the Ran (Shabbos 44a (Rif) s.v. VeKasav) explains that the derivation of the Gemara obligates women in all the positive aspects of Shabbos, including the obligation to eat three meals. Rabbeinu Tam, on the other hand, while agreeing that women are obligated in eating the three meals of Shabbos, suggests that the basis of their obligation is in keeping with the rule of af hen hayu b’oso hanes — they too were involved in the miracle (of the manna). He does not cite the connection between zachor and shamor, because he seemingly limits that source to obligate women in kiddush alone (and possibly havdalah) and not the other mitzvos of Shabbos. Essentially, while the Ran obligates women in all positive mitzvos of Shabbos based on the link between zachor and shamor, Rabbeinu Tam requires a separate source to obligate them in each positive mitzvah of Shabbos, and absent a source they would remain exempt. Based on the above background, there are two reasons to suggest that women are obligated in havdalah. First, if we accept the Rambam’s view, that “zechira” includes havdalah, then women would indeed be obligated to recite havdalah on a Torah level, just as they are obligated in kiddush. Second, even if we assume that havdalah is not included in “zechira” and is a rabbinic enactment, the Ran argues that women are obligated in all the positive mitzvos of Shabbos, which would, at first glance, include havdalah.

However, others, including the Orchos Chaim (1, Hilchos Havdalah), rule that women are totally exempt from havdalah since it is a time-bound, positive mitzvah. These authorities must hold that the mitzvah of zachor is limited to kiddush and does not include havdalah. Furthermore, they would seem to follow Rabbeinu Tam’s view that the derivation that links zachor and shamor is limited to kiddush and not the other positive mitzvos of Shabbos. Alternatively, even if these authorities understand that the connection between zachor and shamor obligates women in all the positive mitzvos of Shabbos, as the Ran asserts, they can argue that only the mitzvos that are practiced on Shabbos itself are included. Havdalah, though, which is a mitzvah ideally observed after the conclusion of Shabbos, is not included, and thus women are not obligated.

Practical Halacha

The Shulchan Aruch (O.C. 296:8), following the Rambam, rules that women are obligated in havdalah just as they are obligated in kiddush, though he does note that some disagree. Based on the dissenting opinion that exempts women from havdalah, the Rema rules that women should not recite havdalah for themselves and instead fulfill their obligation by hearing it from a man. The Magen Avraham (296:11) cites the Bach, who questions the Rema’s ruling, arguing that the Rema himself, following the opinion of Tosafos (Berachos 14a), permits women to recite a beracha on a mitzvah they voluntarily perform, even if they are not obligated to do so. Therefore, even if we assume that a woman is exempt from reciting havdalah, she should still be permitted to do so if she chooses. The Bach, therefore, concludes that even if a man is present and she can hear havdalah from him, a woman is still permitted to recite havdalah for herself.

The Magen Avraham, however, suggests that perhaps the Rema distinguishes between reciting a beracha on the performance of a mitzvah, such as lulav or shofar, which Ashkenazim would encourage, and reciting the beracha for havdalah, which is discouraged. In a case where the mitzvah itself is a separate action, independent of the beracha, a woman can perform the mitzvah and recite a beracha. However, when the entirety of the mitzvah is the recitation of the beracha, perhaps the Rema would not permit a woman to volunteer. We can understand this distinction based on a comment of the Nesivos HaMishpat (C.M. 234), who writes that regarding a Torah obligation, the chefzta, the object or action that is mandated or proscribed, is inherently holy (or impure) and thus when a woman performs the mitzvah, even if she is not obligated, her act is meaningful. However, regarding a rabbinic obligation, the cheftza is not inherently holy (or impure) and there is only a chiyuv on the gavra, a personal obligation to fulfill the halacha. Thus, when the entire obligation is a rabbinic beracha, there is no inherent fulfillment independent of an obligation, and since a woman is not obligated, she cannot volunteer to do it. The Taz (296:7), however, offers an alternative explanation for the Rema’s position that women should not recite havdalah themselves. He explains that we permit women to recite a beracha on a mitzvah that they are not obligated to perform when men are obligated to perform that same mitzvah on a Torah level. Since they are only one step removed from the biblical obligation (due to it being a time-bound mitzvah), they can recite a beracha.

However, when a mitzvah, such as havdalah, is itself rabbinic even for men (following those who disagree with the Rambam), and women are additionally exempt since it is a positive, time-bound mitzvah, they may not recite a beracha when fulfilling it, since they are two steps removed from a Torah command. The Taz adds that if a woman wants to daven Maariv and recite atah chonantanu she is certainly permitted to do so, since it is contained within a beracha that she is already saying and is not its own separate beracha.

In the final analysis, due to the different opinions on this matter, a woman should try to hear havdalah from a man, but if no man is available, she can certainly recite havdalah for herself, since according to the majority opinion she is obligated in the mitzvah.

By Rabbi Dr. Yaakov Abramovitz

First things first

Parshas Bereishis is all about the beginnings: First creation, first light, first day, first person, first commandment, and of course, first sin. After blessing mankind to be fruitful, Hashem gives Adam his first official mitzvah. Yes, it has to do with trees and fruit, but it’s not what you think.

While most of us might remember that the first injunction to Adam was to not eat from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, a closer look at the text reveals that, in fact, another directive came first. “And Hashem commanded man saying: From every tree of the garden you shall eat” (Bereishis 2:16).

The Meshech Chochmah explains that this pasuk is not merely a setup for the following one in which Hashem tells Adam from which tree he may not eat. Instead, Hashem was formally instructing mankind to partake of all the wonderful enjoyments of the world. It was only after first emphasizing all the positive and exciting opportunities available that Hashem introduced the one restriction at hand. Presented in that way, man was primed to focus on the many positives, as opposed to the one negative.

Unfortunately, the Meshech Chochmah continues, when Adam passed on these instructions to Chava, this core message was lost. Instead of enjoying all that was allowed, they fixated on the one thing that was not, and this obsession led to the violation of their singular restriction. There is a lot to learn from the first mistake in history. A life of Torah observance is filled with so many wonderful, joyous opportunities, and by focusing on these over any limitations, we can have the true outlook Hashem intended. For example, instead of describing Shabbos to ourselves and our children as a day when we cannot use our phones, cannot drive, and cannot go shopping, we can authentically transmit the message that it is a joyful day when we can get together with family, can enjoy gourmet meals, and can appreciate the weekly opportunity to reconnect with Hashem.

Modern studies confirm that children are more likely to change undesired behaviors when we guide them toward correct actions, instead of screaming about what we do not want to see. “No running” can be reframed as “Please walk”; “Stop getting so angry” as “Why don’t you try taking a deep breath?”; “Put your phone away!” as “Can you please join us at the table?” If we haven’t had this positive perspective before, there’s a first time for everything!

By Rabbi Efrem Goldberg

We have never known more about one another, and perhaps we have never known less.

We know where people went on vacation, what they ate for dinner, whose children got engaged, who had a baby, who bought a house, who got promoted, and who seems to be living the life we wish we had. We scroll through pictures and statuses and stories and somehow come away believing that we know what is happening in other people’s lives. But we don’t. We see the picture, but we don’t see what happened five minutes before it was taken or five minutes after. We see the family sitting around the table, but we don’t know what someone at that table is desperately davening for. We see the smile, but not necessarily the struggle behind it. We see what people choose to share, but we have no idea what they are carrying privately. That has always been true, but in our hyperconnected world it is easier than ever to forget.

Years ago, I wrote about the particular pain experienced by those struggling with infertility and the responsibility the rest of us have to measure our words more carefully. What if you knew that the person you were talking to desperately wanted to have a child, or would give anything to have another child, but was struggling to make it happen? Wouldn’t you navigate the conversation more thoughtfully? Wouldn’t you think twice before asking a question or making a comment that might seem completely innocent to you but could be enormously painful to them?

And it isn’t only those waiting for children. There are those waiting to meet the person with whom they hope to bring children into this world. They sit at our tables and attend our shuls and simchas. They celebrate engagements and dance at weddings. They smile when yet another friend announces good news. They answer the questions about whether they are dating anyone and endure the well-intentioned suggestions of people who are certain they know exactly whom they should meet. We see them smiling and participating, but we often have no idea how much they long to find their person, to build a home, to have a family, and to move into the next chapter of life. There are so many other invisible struggles as well. Someone at the table may be watching a marriage unravel. Someone may be terribly worried about a child. Someone may be carrying financial pressure that keeps them awake at night. Someone may be grieving a loss that everyone else seems to have moved past. Someone may be waiting for test results or frightened by a diagnosis they have told almost nobody about. Someone may be struggling emotionally while projecting strength and confidence to everyone around them. We simply don’t know.

Simchas Torah brings this lesson into particularly sharp focus. We dance with children and grandchildren on our shoulders, often with our spouse lovingly looking on. Kol Ha’Nearim is one of the highlights of the year. We gather our children together under a giant tallis, shower them with brachos, and look on with enormous pride and gratitude. It is a beautiful moment, and it should be. Parents and grandparents should kvell. Children should feel the love of their families and their community and experience the sweetness of being embraced by the Torah.

But years ago, someone who was desperate for a child told me how much she dreaded Simchas Torah. In the days leading up to Yom Tov, she felt anxiety rather than anticipation. For those yearning to become parents, watching parents and grandparents beam as their children gather under the tallis can be a painful reminder of what they don’t yet have. And for the single man or woman waiting and wondering when they will meet the person with whom they can build a home and hopefully bring children under that tallis one day, that moment can hurt too.

Does that mean we should celebrate less? Of course not. It means we should feel more.

Jewish life asks us to develop a heart large enough to hold two emotions at the same time. I can be profoundly grateful for my blessing while remaining deeply sensitive to your longing. I can celebrate my children and grandchildren without assuming everyone around me has been given the same gifts. My simcha does not require blindness to your pain. In fact, genuine gratitude should make me more sensitive, not less.

That sensitivity begins with the words we use.

Questions like, “How many children do you have?” “How long have you been married?” “No children yet?” “When are you going to have another?” or to a single person, “So, are you seeing anyone?” may feel like harmless conversation. They may come from genuine interest and concern. But we don’t know what is happening behind the answer.

We also need to resist the instinct to solve other people’s struggles. “Just relax.” “It will happen.” “You’re still young.” “I know the perfect person for you.” “Have you tried this doctor?” “Why don’t you adopt?” “Go to this Rav.” “Try this segulah.” “Hashem has a plan.” Even when these words come from love, they can land very differently than we intend. If someone chooses to share something deeply personal, that is an act of trust and vulnerability. Often they don’t need our solution. They need our friendship. They need an ear. They need to know that we see them, that we are thinking about them, that we are davening for them, and that they don’t have to explain or defend the pain they are experiencing. We should also be careful about complaining casually about the very blessings someone else is desperately waiting for. Parenting is hard. Marriage is hard. Life is hard, and friends should be able to speak honestly with one another. But context matters. The sleepless night that feels exhausting to one person may sound like a dream to someone who would give anything to be awakened by a crying baby. The complaint about a spouse may land painfully on the person who goes home alone and wonders if that will ever change.

Every year before Kol Ha’Nearim, we have the opportunity to turn our joy into tefillah. As we gather our children beneath the tallis, we can think not only about those who are there, but about those who are still absent from that moment. We can daven for those waiting for a child. We can daven for those waiting for another child. We can daven for those who have experienced loss. We can daven for those waiting to meet their husband or wife, the person with whom they hope to build a bayis ne’eman b’Yisrael and bring a new generation into the world.

And perhaps we can carry that consciousness beyond Kol Ha’Nearim and beyond Simchas Torah.The world encourages us to look at people and assume we know their story. Social media practically trains us to do it. We see the vacation, the family portrait, the engagement picture, the birth announcement, the smiling faces around a Yom Tov table, and we fill in everything we cannot see.

But a picture is not a life. A status is not a story. A smile is not proof that everything is okay. This Simchas Torah, dance with all your heart. Celebrate your children and grandchildren. Stand beneath the tallis bursting with gratitude. We should never diminish our joy because someone else is hurting. But we can expand our hearts enough to hold two things at once. Perhaps that is one of the great challenges and privileges of being part of a community. To really see one another. Not just the pictures we post, the clothes we wear, the families we present, or the smiles we display, but to remember that every person has a story we don’t fully know.

Before you ask the question, make the comment, offer the advice, or tell the joke, look around the room. You don’t know who is at the table. And sometimes the greatest kindness we can offer another person is simply to remember that. (As we have done for the past few years, we paused before the Kol Ha’Nearim aliyah, a painful time for many waiting to have children, to recite a special prayer.)

By Rabbi Shay Tahan

The horrifying experience surrounding the hijacking of a flight from Dubai raised a profound question in the Israeli security establishment: What should be done if the hijacked airplane is deliberately being flown toward a populated city, with the clear intention of causing the greatest possible loss of life?

The question is not merely theoretical. An airplane can itself become a weapon, capable of carrying hundreds of innocent passengers while being directed toward a densely populated area, as tragically occurred on 911. In such a scenario, the authorities may face an agonizing choice: allow the plane to continue toward its target, where it could kill a large number of people on the ground, or take action to bring it down before it reaches the populated area, knowing that the innocent passengers aboard the plane would be killed. The security decision in such a case was clear: if the airplane is being used as a weapon, it must be brought down beforehand, even though this would result in the deaths of the passengers on board, because doing so would prevent the deaths of a far greater number of people on the ground.

But this raises a fundamental halachic question: May one deliberately bring about the death of the passengers in order to save those who are about to be killed on the ground? Is this considered an act of killing one group in order to save another, or is it regarded as an act of rescue—stopping a deadly threat before it reaches its intended victims?

This question becomes especially compelling in light of the words of the Chazon Ish concerning a case in which an arrow is traveling toward a group of people and can be redirected toward a single individual. His discussion opens an important window into the distinction between killing and saving, and may shed light on the difficult question of a hijacked airplane being used as a weapon.

Giving One Person Over to Save Many

Let’s open with the Rambam’s ruling (Yesodei HaTorah 5:5): “if enemies say ‘Give us one of you and we will kill him; otherwise, we will kill all of you,’ they should all be killed rather than hand over a single Jewish soul.”

The reason is that we may not choose one Jewish life and kill that person in order to save the others. We do not say that the lives of the many override the life of the individual, because every person is a life in his own right, and we have no authority to commit an act of bloodshed against one person in order to save others.

The Chazon Ish: Redirecting the Arrow

On this basis, the Chazon Ish (Sanhedrin, siman 25) presents a fundamental inquiry. He writes: “One must consider the case of a person who sees an arrow heading toward a group of people and can divert it to another direction, where it will kill only one person, while those on the first side will be saved. If he does nothing, the many will be killed and the one will remain alive.”

The Chazon Ish considers whether this case can be compared to the well-known case of “Give us one of you,” in which the gentiles demand that the group hand over one person to be killed. He explains that the two cases may be fundamentally different.

When the group hands over one person to the gentiles, the action they are performing is itself the handing over of that person to his death. The fact that this will save the other members of the group does not change the nature of the act. Their action is not directly rescuing the others; rather, they are actively handing one person over to be killed which is a cruel act, and the survival of the others is the consequence that follows from that act. Therefore, it cannot be defined as an “act of rescue.” The essential nature of the action is the surrender of one person to his death, while the saving of the others is merely the result of that act.

The Chazon Ish, however, continues and introduces a distinction in the case of the arrow: “But diverting the arrow from one side to the other is primarily an act of rescue, and has no connection whatsoever to killing the individual on the other side; it is only that, by chance, there happens to be a Jewish life on the other side.”

The person is not standing before a particular individual and saying, “I will kill him in order to save the others.” Rather, he sees an existing danger that is already moving toward the many, and he takes action whose primary purpose is to remove the danger and save those people. The fact that another person happens to be located where the danger is redirected, and may therefore be killed, is not the objective of the action, but rather a consequence resulting from that person’s presence in the place toward which the danger was redirected.

Applying the Chazon Ish to a Hijacked Airplane

Accordingly, we must consider the case of an airplane that is about to crash into an area where many people are located, when there is an option to divert it to another location where only one person is present. At first glance, this closely resembles the case described by the Chazon Ish. The airplane is already in motion and itself constitutes the source of the danger; the person intervening does not create the danger, but rather attempts to redirect it from a place where it is about to strike many people to a place where it will strike one individual.

Still, there is a clear distinction between the Chazon Ish’s case and that of an airplane flying toward a large crowd. In the Chazon Ish’s case, the question is whether one may save several people by causing the death of one person. The death of that individual is the means by which the others are saved. In the case of the airplane, however, the passengers aboard the plane will die regardless of where the plane ultimately crashes. The choice is not between allowing the passengers to live or causing them to die. Their deaths are already inevitable. The only question is where the plane will crash: into a populated area, where it will kill many additional people, or in a deserted area, where those additional deaths can be prevented.

Accordingly, it would seem that there is a fundamental difference between the two cases. Bringing down the airplane before it reaches the populated area does not cause the passengers’ deaths; rather, it prevents the airplane from causing additional deaths on the ground. In this sense, the action can be viewed not as killing the passengers to save others, but as rescuing those on the ground from an imminent threat, while the deaths of the passengers are an unavoidable consequence that would occur in any event.

A Pursuer Using a Hostage as a Human Shield

Let’s see an example in which an armed person holds another person hostage and uses him as a human shield, thereby endangering the lives of other people. At times, the only way to neutralize the pursuer and save those in danger is to use a weapon, but doing so creates a real possibility that the hostage himself will be injured or even killed.

At first glance, this case resembles, to some extent, the Chazon Ish’s inquiry concerning a person who sees an arrow heading toward many people and can divert it to a place where one person will be killed. Here too, the danger already exists: it is the pursuer who has created the danger to the lives of the people, while the person intervening is not creating the danger itself. His sole objective is to neutralize the pursuer and save those being pursued, although the action required to remove the danger may, unintentionally, injure the hostage.

There is, however, an important distinction. In the case of the arrow discussed by the Chazon Ish, the person himself diverts the arrow toward the place where the individual is located, and the Chazon Ish therefore questions whether the action should be regarded as an act of rescue or as an act of killing. In contrast, when the pursuer himself is holding the hostage and endangering him, the danger was created by the pursuer. The person attempting to save the hostage or the other people does not seek to kill an innocent person; rather, he seeks to stop the pursuer. Nevertheless, at times there is no way to do so without creating a risk that the hostage will be injured.

The Ruling of Rabbi Elyashiv

Indeed, Rabbi Yosef Shalom Elyashiv adopted this approach as a matter of halachah (Yeshurun, issue 13, p. 552), in connection with an incident that occurred in 2002 at a hotel in Netanya, where a conference of the Arachim organization was being held. Among the participants was a student from the Mir Yeshiva who had trained in providing first aid.

When he arrived at the scene of the attack to assist the wounded, the terrorists and Israeli security forces were engaged in a battle. The terrorists seized him and held him as a hostage, while the security forces mistakenly believed that he was also a terrorist and killed him together with the other terrorists. Rabbi Elyashiv ruled that it was permissible to kill the Jewish hostage together with the terrorists, because the action was considered an act of rescue.

By Rabbi Shay Tahan

The Israeli passengers aboard the hijacked airplane were repeatedly described as heroes.

In the aftermath of the terrifying ordeal, their courage, composure, and determination to confront the danger were widely praised. The Prime Minister himself referred to them on multiple occasions as heroes, reflecting the natural human admiration for people who display courage in the face of mortal danger. But what exactly makes a person a hero? At first glance, the Torah seems to offer a very different definition. Ben Zoma teaches in Pirkei Avot (4:1): “Who is a hero? He who conquers his inclination.” If so, one might think that what we commonly call heroism—physical courage, the ability to confront an enemy, or the willingness to stand firm in a dangerous situation—is not the type of gevurah that the Torah considers truly praiseworthy. According to this understanding, true heroism is found not in overcoming an external enemy, but in mastering oneself. Yet when we examine the words of Chazal and the verses of Tanach, the picture is far more nuanced. The Torah and Nevi’im repeatedly use the term “gibor” to describe people who possess physical strength, courage, and military ability. We find expressions such as “gibor chayil,” “ish milchamah,” and “giborei chayil,” all referring to people capable of fighting and overcoming their enemies. Indeed, throughout Tanach we find people described as “gibborim” specifically because of their strength and ability in battle. Already in the Torah, we find the term “gibor” used in reference to physical strength. Regarding Nimrod, the Torah says: “He was a mighty hunter before Hashem” (Bereishit 10:9). Thus, the term “gibor” itself is used to describe a person possessing strength and practical ability—in this case, the strength of a hunter.

In the days of David, we find this even more explicitly. When Shaul seeks to know who David is, one of his attendants says: “Behold, I have seen a son of Yishai the Bethlehemite, who knows how to play, a mighty man of valor, a man of war, discerning in speech, a handsome man, and Hashem is with him” (Shmuel I 16:18).

The word “mighty” in the pasuk here, as in many other places, is the Hebrew word “gibor,” explicitly describing David as a mighty and courageous man.

Here “gibor chayil” and “ish milchamah” are mentioned together, and it is clear that “gibor” does not mean one who conquers his inclination, but rather a person possessing courage, strength, and military ability. Similarly, regarding Gideon, when an angel of Hashem appears to him, he says: “Hashem is with you, mighty man of valor” (Shoftim 6:12). These words are spoken to Gideon before he is sent to save Israel from Midian, and the title “gibor chayil” is directly connected to his military mission and his ability to go to war.

We find the same regarding Yiftach: “And Yiftach the Gileadite was a mighty man of valor” (Shoftim 11:1), immediately followed by the account of his war against Ammon. Here as well, “gibor chayil” describes a person possessing practical and military strength. In Divrei Hayamim, we find even more explicit expressions. Regarding the men who came to assist David, it says: “And they were among the mighty men, helpers in the war” (Divrei Hayamim I 12:2). Later, regarding the men of Gad, it says: “Mighty men of valor, men of the army for battle, who could handle shield and spear, whose faces were like the faces of lions” (ibid. 12:9). It further says: “For they were all mighty men of valor, and they became officers in the army” (ibid. 12:22), and regarding the tribe of Shimon: “Mighty men of valor for the army” (ibid. 12:26).

We therefore see that in Tanach itself, the word “gibor” is explicitly used to describe strength, courage, and military ability. If so, how did Ben Zoma say, “Who is mighty? He who conquers his inclination”?

It appears that the explanation is that the Mishnah does not intend to negate the very concept of physical heroism. Rather, it teaches that there are different levels of gevurah. There is external heroism—a person who is courageous and capable of fighting and overcoming his enemy—and there is internal heroism—a person who masters himself and is capable of conquering his inclination. The Mishnah does not mean that the former is not heroism at all, but that the latter is the greater and higher form of heroism, the one in which a person is truly worthy of praise. The Bartenura explains the Mishnah accordingly: “Who is a hero who is worthy of being praised for his heroism? He who conquers his inclination.” This implies that physical courage is also considered a form of heroism, but the person who conquers his own nature is the one who is truly worthy of praise. Also Rabbeinu Yonah, in his commentary on Pirkei Avot explains that there are two types of heroism: one is to be a mighty warrior whose heart never fears, and the other is to conquer one’s inclination. Ben Zoma teaches that conquering one’s inclination is greater, for being a mighty warrior is not such a great accomplishment.

This is also explicit in the commentary of the Midrash Shmuel on the Mishnah. He begins with the question that Chazal say that at the time of a person’s formation, it is decreed whether he will be strong or weak. The Tanna therefore comes to teach that it should not be assumed that the one who was decreed to be strong is considered a gibor. Rather, the greater hero is the one who conquers his inclination. He writes: “Certainly, both are called mighty, because both are fighting—one against his inclination and the other against his enemy.”

The Midrash Shmuel therefore states explicitly that both types of people are called giborim: the one who fights his inclination and the one who fights his enemy.

He continues: “One who possesses this heroism, the one who conquers his inclination, also possesses the other form of heroism, the heroism of defeating enemies.”

The Tiferet Yisrael likewise explains the Mishnah in a way that clearly distinguishes between possessing physical strength and possessing the type of heroism that deserves praise. Physical strength or power, in itself, is not something to be praised. Courage, however, is indeed a form of heroism. Nevertheless, the greater praise belongs to those who are able to overcome their desires and master their own inclinations.

He writes: “For if we praise a mighty man, it is not because he has the strength to strangle and murder tens of thousands of human beings like doves and young pigeons, for if so, how is he more praiseworthy than wild beasts, lions and tigers, together?”

“But his praise is that he is not fainthearted, and he uses his strength for a lofty purpose. He does not fear bodily harm, and he is even willing to risk his life, solely in order to achieve that lofty purpose that he seeks to accomplish.”

His words make clear that the existence of a courageous person is not in question. A person can be a “gibor” because he possesses courage, because he is not fainthearted, and because he is capable of standing in the face of danger and even risking his life. What makes such strength praiseworthy, however, is not the strength itself. Heroism becomes a virtue when a person uses it “for a lofty purpose.” We can now understand the verse that Ben Zoma brings as his proof: “He who is slow to anger is better than the mighty, and he who rules his spirit than he who captures a city” (Mishlei 16:32). The verse does not say that the one who captures a city is not a gibor. On the contrary, it presents the conqueror of a city as an example of a person possessing great strength—a person capable of fighting, overcoming enemies, and capturing a city. It merely teaches that there is a form of heroism greater than this: “he who rules his spirit.” Capturing a city is heroism directed outward; conquering one’s inclination is heroism directed inward. The first overcomes others, while the second overcomes himself. This is why Ben Zoma said, “Who is mighty? He who conquers his inclination”—not because there are no other forms of heroism, but because this is the higher form of heroism.

This is also the deeper meaning of the words of David HaMelech: “Who trains my hands for battle, and my fingers for war” (Tehillim 144:1). David does not view the ability to fight as something that contradicts the service of Hashem. On the contrary, he thanks Hashem for training his hands for battle and his fingers for war. There is therefore a proper place for physical and military ability when it is used for a worthy purpose.

At the same time, David himself teaches that a person may not become arrogant because of his strength or place his trust in it as the source of his salvation. Rather: “Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we will invoke the Name of Hashem” (Tehillim 20:8). A person may possess chariots and horses, weapons of war, and physical ability, while nevertheless recognizing that his strength is merely a tool in his hands, and that salvation comes from Hashem.

From here, we can also understand the meaning of heroism in a time of danger. The Torah does not demand that a person remain helpless when he or another person is facing danger. On the contrary, it says, “Do not stand idly by the blood of your fellow” (Vayikra 19:16), and Chazal derive from this (Sanhedrin 73a) that one who sees his fellow drowning in a river, or being attacked by bandits, is obligated to save him. Courage and the ability to act in a time of danger can therefore be part of a person’s obligation.

By Rabbi Reuven and Shira Boshnack

Dear Rabbi and Shira , I’m feeling sad and unsure of how to proceed, and I’d appreciate some advice. For context, I got married a little less than a year ago. My husband is extremely extroverted and loves being around family and friends. Over the past year, our relationship has had its ups and downs, but thankfully, we’re now not fighting as much, and we both say that we feel closer to each other. However, one ongoing challenge has been how we spend Shabbos. My husband prefers going to his parents or anywhere with lots of guests and socializing. Since we got married, we’ve only spent about six Shabbosim alone in our apartment. He finds it too quiet and lonely to stay home, explaining that he grew up in a house where Shabbos was always lively, with lots of guests and people around. Without company or a relationship with our neighbors, he says it just doesn’t feel right to him. While I completely understand where he’s coming from, it’s hard not to take it personally. I feel as though he doesn’t—or maybe can’t—value quality time with just me. Today, we argued about what to do this coming Shabbos, and we both walked away from the conversation feeling unhappy and without a plan. How do I stop taking this personally?

~What to Do this Shabbos

Dear What to do this Shabbos, We’re sorry to hear that you are having a hard time. It can be very difficult when one of the parts of Judaism, and especially a weekly part becomes a point of conflict. Shabbos means a lot of things to each person. Some people like to spend Shabbos quietly, catching up from the hustle and bustle of the week. Others like to catch up with friends, neighbors and family. First, let’s discuss, is it possible to find a way to compromise? Maybe to have one meal with guests and spend the rest of the Shabbos quietly? Or find a way to have a Shabbos with the in-laws but with less people? A lot of times we think that our positions are diametrically opposed, but the truth is with a little ingenuity, and a can do spirit, we can find a way everyone can be happy.

It sounds like there is an emotional charge to your letter. We would ask you to think about times in your life that this reminds you of. Sometimes situations, while different, feel unpleasantly familiar. What were other times that brought up these feelings? How did you deal with it? Do you need more quiet time for yourself in general in life? What are different ways for you to be able to carve out time to spend the way you like it even when you are having a busy social shabbos? To your husband, you can ask, “what does being alone for shabbos bring up for you? What does it remind you of? How did you get through it?” Can you brainstorm ways with your husband to find ways that you both can be happy? One more angle to consider. Maybe something is happening when you are alone which he might be politely trying to avoid. Is there something happening when the both of you are alone which makes him feel weird? Is there something happening on the busy shabbos that really is setting you off? Have you tried spending Shabbos playing board games, or doing Gottman Love maps exercises, making sure that there is a lot of activity even without a lot of socialization?

We wish you hatzlacha in sorting out the Shabbos situation so you really can take advantage of the unique place it plays in Jewish Life!

Rabbi Reuven and Shira Boshnack

By Rabbi Moishe Dovid Lebovits

A person cannot swim without first being taught how to swim.

Once he masters the fundamentals and is ready to swim in deep water, he simply has to jump in. There is no reason for him to be afraid, because he already knows the basics.

The same is true of tefillah. A person cannot be expected to daven properly if he has never learned the fundamentals of tefillah. Many of the ideas presented in this chapter address real issues that people have with davening.

Giving It His All

A person who comes to shul is G-d-fearing and believes in Hashem; otherwise, he would not be in shul. Despite this, he may still talk in shul. A person can come to shul every day and yet daven without any feeling. Even if we do not feel a connection when we daven, we still must daven. We go to work even when we are not in the mood because otherwise our family will not have what to eat. The same is true of tefillah: one who does not have a desire to daven must still give it all he has.

Unfortunately, it is all too easy to adopt the mindset of, “Davening is not for me.” This is synonymous with saying, “I am not interested in Judaism.” A person must be honest with himself and try to correct this way of thinking. A person might go to shul because there is a certain way of living that he wishes to preserve, yet he does not experience pleasure when he davens. There are thousands of people like this who attend shul for seventy years while coming late, leaving early, and speaking during davening. Is this how we want to live our lives?

When learning Torah in yeshivah, we advance from one level to the next. Unfortunately, when we daven, we often remain at the same level of understanding of tefillah that we had in elementary school, without allotting time to learn about tefillah. Yeshivos are focused on finishing masechtos and often do not teach the fundamentals of tefillah. How wonderful it would be if yeshivos taught the meaning of the words in davening from the early grades. We spend so much time davening, yet we do not know what the words mean.

Many tefillah concepts will be discussed in the following chapters, but this should only serve as the beginning of a journey to delve into the wondrous power of tefillah and the role it plays in our lives.

Common Questions

People have many questions about davening: Why should I daven? What is the goal? Three times a day seems like such a burden; why do I have to do it? Why does Hashem need me to daven? Who am I that I should daven to Hashem and He will answer me?

These types of questions cause people not to take davening seriously, which can result in talking during davening. If we do not understand what we say when we daven, we do not feel a connection to what we are saying.

The Gemara counts tefillah as one of the things that require chizuk, and we must make sure to strengthen ourselves. Many of us do not find tefillah satisfying and do not wish to remain in shul one more second than necessary. Harav Elya Lopian zt”l said that one who never felt the sweetness of tefillah never davened in his entire life.

Over our lifetime, we spend tens of thousands of hours davening. We should make sure that we are not wasting our time by mindlessly turning pages. In addition, the way we daven affects our children, since they watch what we do and follow our lead. If we do not take davening seriously, talk in shul, or come late, our children may follow suit, which is very unfortunate.

A Long Davening

People should not have a hard time staying in shul even when davening is long. If someone in a baseball stadium leaves his seat, there are screens in strategic locations to make sure he does not miss even a second of the game. He enjoys watching the game and would not come late or leave early, because every second counts. This should be our attitude when it comes to davening. One who is davening should not wish to miss a second of it.

A man once visited a certain community and went with his host to shul. Everyone present was talking throughout davening, and the man was appalled. Years later, he was once again a guest at the same host’s home. He recalled his previous experience at that shul and dreaded visiting there again. Yet this time, when he went to shul, it was completely silent.

“What happened?” he asked his host after shul. “The last time I was here, the talking was out of control. Now, it is the complete opposite.”

The host explained that a few years earlier, some of the mispallelim had wanted to build a beautiful building worth $10 million and hire a new rav. Yet they realized that they were willing to spend so much money on a new shul without knowing anything about davening. They asked the rav whom they hired to give some shiurim on the fundamentals of tefillah. They devoted a great deal of time to this and ultimately decided that whoever wished to be a member of their shul had to commit to not speaking during davening.

Why Is Davening So Hard?

The Gemara says that one could make an argument that we should not be judged for failing to have proper kavanah in tefillah. However, why do so many people find it difficult to daven?

For all other mitzvos, there is a short, designated period of time. How long does it take to wash one’s hands before a meal? To put on tefillin? To shake a lulav? To hear the shofar? Not only do these mitzvos take a relatively short amount of time, but they are also not difficult to perform.

Davening is completely different. It takes a long time to daven. In addition, the mitzvah of davening is not merely an “action mitzvah.” It requires our minds and emotions. We must be on guard at every moment to make sure we are focused and connecting with the words of tefillah. This is one reason why it is difficult to find fulfillment in our davening. Concentrating on the words is difficult, which means that we often say the words without heart and soul. If we have no idea what we are saying, we find ourselves davening just to “get it over with.”

Another reason why it may be hard to daven is that when we speak to our friend, even on the phone, we know he is there because we hear his voice. If no one is responding to us, it is not possible to ascertain that someone is there conversing with us. Since we do not feel that Hashem is in front of us when we daven, it can be difficult to daven properly. We must first concentrate on the goal of tefillah. In every other aspect of our lives, we are aware of the focus of what we are doing. When someone opens a supermarket, for example, his focus is on making money. One who does not know what he is doing will get up and leave. Therefore, we must ask ourselves: What is the point of tefillah? Why do we daven? If the focus is obvious, we will accomplish our goal when we daven. If Hashem instituted davening every day, we must make sure to do it properly. We will see in the following chapters that these issues can be resolved—and that

By Rabbi Gil Student

I. Stormy Times

By the time Sukkos began this year, a major nor’easter storm was already affecting the East Coast. Forecasters had been warning for several days that a slow-moving coastal storm would bring heavy rain, strong winds and coastal flooding from the Mid-Atlantic into New England. The storm continued through Yom Tov into Chol Hamoed, bringing repeated periods of rain and wind across the region. That raises a question about how to view that rain. The Sages describe rain on Sukkos as a siman kelalah, a sign of curse. Does that description apply to a nor’easter that meteorologists had tracked and predicted before Yom Tov and that was already underway as Sukkos began? Or does a storm with that kind of lead-up fall into a different category?

The Mishnah (Sukkah 28b) compares rain on Sukkos to a servant who comes to pour a cup for his master and has the pitcher thrown back in his face. The Gemara (ibid., 29a) explains the image as though the master were saying, “I do not want your service,” i.e., when it rains on Sukkos, Hashem tells us that He does not want our mitzvah of sukkah. In a different Gemara, Rabbi Yehoshua describes rain during Sukkos as a siman kelalah (Ta’anis 2a). Does this mean that every rainstorm on Sukkos carries this meaning? Later authorities offer several approaches.

II. The First Night

Rav Yom Tov ben Avraham Ishbili (Ritva; 14th cen., Spain) cites Rabbeinu Ephraim (12th cen., France) as limiting the siman kelalah to the first night of Sukkos. After the first night, according to this approach, rain is neither a curse nor a blessing. Ritva himself disagrees because he believes that the broader wording of the discussion in Ta’anis refers to any time during the festival (Ritva, Ta’anis 2b, s.v. Amar Rabbi Yehoshua).

Rav Menachem Ha-Meiri (Meiri; 14th cen., France) records a similar view in the name of some Geonim. This approach finds special significance in the first night because eating in the sukkah then constitutes an absolute obligation. During the rest of Sukkos, the obligation to eat in the sukkah generally arises when one chooses to eat a meal of the kind that requires a sukkah (Meiri, Ta’anis 2a). Rambam (12th cen., Egypt), in his commentary on the Mishnah (Ta’anis 1:1), likewise speaks of rain “at the beginning of Sukkos” as a negative sign. His formulation points toward a more limited period at the opening of the festival rather than every instance of rain throughout all seven days.

III. Sudden Rain

Rav Ya’akov Ettlinger (19th cen., Germany) quotes Chemdas Ha-Yamim, a controversial early eighteenth-century kabbalistic work, as recording a tradition that the Mishnah’s comparison applies when the weather had been dry beforehand and clouds suddenly gathered as the festival began. Rain that had already begun before Yom Tov and continued into Sukkos is described instead as “gishmei ratzon, berachah u-nedavah, rains of favor, blessing and bounty” (Bikkurei Ya’akov 639:39).

Sudden rain beginning with the arrival of Sukkos closely resembles the Mishnah’s image of a master immediately rejecting the servant’s attempted service. Rain that belongs to an existing weather pattern has a different character and can retain its ordinary positive meaning as beneficial rain. Perhaps the emphasis lies in the sudden and unexpected nature of the rain. If so, it has implications for this year. The nor’easter was forecasted several days before Sukkos, giving people time to prepare for the storm. According to the view quoted by Rav Ettlinger, this seems to resemble rain that had already developed before the festival and then continued into Sukkos, which is a blessing and not a curse. Rav Ettlinger also discusses the first night from another angle. Rema (16th cen., Poland) rules that one should eat an olive’s volume of challah in the sukkah on the first night even when rain falls (gloss to Shulchan Arukh, Orach Chaim 639:5). Rav Ettlinger suggests that, according to this view, first-night rain can become a sign of blessing because the person receives an opportunity to fulfill the mitzvah under difficult conditions and earn greater reward. The negative significance of rain then emerges more strongly when the rain actually exempts a person from the mitzvah.

IV. Curse Despite the Mitzvah

Rav Ya’akov Reischer (18th cen., Germany) argues that the Mishnah in Ta’anis is clear that rain on Sukkos is always a sign of curse. However, he points out that someone who fails to perform a mitzvah out of duress receives reward for the mitzvah as long as he intended to fulfill it. He briefly considers distinguishing between rain that starts after a person has already begun the mitzvah and rain that was already falling beforehand, but he rejects that distinction. The Mishnah speaks generally of rain during Sukkos as a sign of curse, including circumstances in which the rain precedes the actual performance of the mitzvah (Shevus Ya’akov, vol. 2, no. 10).

Rav Reischer separates the meaning of the rain from the religious standing of the individual. The rain is a negative sign because Heaven has interrupted the mitzvah and, in the imagery of the Mishnah, rejected the service at that moment. Yet the person who wished to perform the mitzvah and was prevented by an unavoidable circumstance is treated as though he had performed it. Even during rain that is a curse, you can still fulfill the mitzvah through your intent.

V. A Curse or a Blessing?

According to Rabbeinu Ephraim and the Geonim, the central issue is the first night of Sukkos. Rain then carries the strongest negative significance because it interferes with the absolute obligation to eat in the sukkah. Rambam similarly speaks of rain at the beginning of the festival as the negative sign. On these views, the timing within Sukkos matters more than whether meteorologists saw the storm coming in advance. For those who were prevented from eating in the sukkah on the first night, the rain appears to be a negative sign according to these views.

Rav Ettlinger quotes a view that rain that begins suddenly as Sukkos arrives resembles the servant whose master rejects his service. Rain that was already developing before Yom Tov and then continues into the festival can instead be regarded as a sign of blessing. This year’s nor’easter fits that description particularly well because the storm was tracked for days and was already affecting the region as Sukkos began. Rav Ettlinger also raises the possibility that first-night rain can itself be a blessing when the obligation to eat in the sukkah remains in force and the difficulty increases the reward for the mitzvah. Rav Reischer understands the Mishnah in Ta’anis to mean that rain on Sukkos is a sign of curse regardless of when the rain began. The fact that the storm was forecasted in advance does not change that status. At the same time, the person who sincerely intended to fulfill the mitzvah and was prevented by rain receives credit for the mitzvah. The rain can therefore be a negative sign while the individual still receives the reward of faithful intention. So was this year’s nor’easter a curse? For Rabbeinu Ephraim, the Geonim and Rambam, the timing within Sukkos matters most: rain at the start of the festival, especially the first night, is the negative sign, whatever the forecast. Ritva applies it to rain at any point during Sukkos. Rav Ettlinger’s quoted view gives strong reason to call this year’s storm a blessing, since it was already developing before Yom Tov. For Rav Reischer, it remains a negative sign, though anyone prevented from sitting in the sukkah keeps the reward of the mitzvah. The answer depends on which factor receives emphasis: when the rain began, when during Sukkos it fell, or whether it prevented the mitzvah.

By Rabbi Joey Haber

The Midrash tells us something fascinating about the snake that lured Adam and Chava to sin, encouraging Chava to eat fruit from the forbidden tree, after which she shared some of the fruit with Adam. This snake, the Midrash relates, was previously the greatest servant man ever had. It would go to distant lands, find beautiful gems, and bring them to Adam.

Meaning, the same snake that enticed Adam and Chava to sin was also their greatest helper, who brought them precious diamonds! How do we explain these two sides of the snake – how on the one hand, it helped Adam and Havah, but on the other hand, it brought about their downfall?

We might find the answer in another source that talks about snakes and diamonds. The Gemara, in Masechet Baba Batra (74b), tells the story of people traveling on a ship who saw a precious diamond surrounded by a snake. A diver brought the diamond onto the ship, but the snake then came to devour the entire ship. A bird flew down and bit the serpent’s head. Then another snake came to devour the ship, but it, too, was killed. This repeated itself several times.

The Malbim explains the symbolism of this story. We are created as “diamonds.” We are created with a soul that is pure and pristine, with which we are to live a pure and pristine life. The problem is the “snake” that comes and ruins everything, by attacking our pure minds. And each time we manage to defeat the “snake,” it comes again, and again. This “snake” is our imagination. As the Midrash tells us, the imagination is our most valuable asset, which brings us precious “gems.” Nothing was ever built, created or innovated without imagination. Our imagination is what enables us to see what can be made, to see what we can become, to see what we can create, which is the first critical step toward achievement. Because of our imagination, we have dreams and ambitions that propel us forward and drive us to work and accomplish great things. But like the snake, our imagination can also bring about our downfall.

Here’s a simple example.

We hear about a friend’s son or daughter who is about to get engaged, and we feel overjoyed for that friend. But days and weeks go by, and we don’t receive an invitation. Our imagination starts running wild. We start thinking that this friend is upset because of this or that, or just plain forgot about us, even though we made a point of inviting that friend to all our events. This invitation that doesn’t arrive becomes like a serpent, a monster in our minds, that devours us and takes all the “diamonds,” all our purity and goodness. We are consumed by resentment and hostility – all because of our imagination – for in truth, that young man or woman did not get engaged… The entire field of advertising is based on this realization of how the human imagination works. Colorful billboards put images in our minds that fester. We see a model wearing certain clothes – and we think of ourselves looking just as good. We see an advertisement for a blissful vacation spot – and we imagine ourselves experiencing that bliss. We see an advertisement for a car – and we imagine ourselves driving that car while our neighbors look on with envy.

This is how the snake succeeded in luring Adam and Chava. It made them imagine unbridled bliss that they would experience if they ate the forbidden fruit. Most human vices work the same way. We are tempted not by the thing itself, but by our imagination, which deceives us into thinking that we will experience unparalleled joy and contentment if we do whatever it is we feel tempted to do. Our imagination can bring us precious diamonds – helping us rise to great heights and accomplish amazing things, but it can also ruin us by fooling us into looking for joy and satisfaction in the wrong places. The story of Adam and Chava teaches us that we need to keep our “snake” in check. Our imagination is both our best friend and our worst enemy. We must use it wisely – to dream, to aspire, to set bold and ambitious goals, to strive for greatness, but not to feel jealous, angry, embittered, or greedy. Let’s imagine ourselves doing great things and becoming great – and then focus our attention on getting there.

By Rabbi Moshe Elefant

Is a canvas sukkah kosher if the walls move in the wind?

Sukkah walls that move in a regular wind are not valid walls. There are different opinions as to what type of movement invalidates a sukkah.

To satisfy all opinions, the walls should not move in the wind at all (see Yechaveh Daas 3:46). This standard is difficult to achieve with a canvas sukkah.

In the past few years, some sukkah merchants have addressed this concern by including stretchable straps with the canvas walls. The straps wrap around the sukkah. The first strap should be placed 40 inches above the ground. The next strap should be placed less than 9 inches below the first, and each subsequent strap should be placed within 9 inches of the strap above it, until the bottom strap is within 9 inches of the ground. Depending on the thickness of the straps, this will require stretching either four or five straps around the sukkah. This series of straps which do not move in the wind are considered halachically acceptable walls, based on a concept known as lovud. The principal of lovud states that the space between two objects that are within three tefachim (approximately 9 inches) of each other, is treated as sealed in the eyes of halachah. Thus the series of taut straps placed within 9 inches of each other form a halachically valid wall, irrespective of the canvas.

In my sukkah, the table is partially under the schach and partially under an overhang. Is this acceptable?

Shulchan Aruch (634:4) rules that if one eats inside a sukkah, but their table is outside the sukkah, it is as if they ate outside the sukkah. Chazal forbade eating in this manner, because they were concerned that one might lean forward over their table and eat outside the sukkah. This is true even if the sukkah is large. So long as the table is outside of the sukkah, it is forbidden. However, the Mishnah Berurah (634:6) writes that if part of the table is inside the sukkah and part of it extends outside of the sukkah, that is acceptable. How much of the table must be in the sukkah? The Mishnah Berurah (Shar Hatziyun 634:6) writes that this is a matter of dispute. According to the Chayei Adam, even if a tefach (approximately 4 inches) of the table is inside the sukkah, that is sufficient, even though most of the table is outside the sukkah. However, the Birkei Yosef writes that most of the table (51%) must be inside the sukkah. With respect to our original question, the area under the overhang is not kosher for the mitzvah of sukkah and one should be sure the table is properly configured in the sukkah (preferably, at least 51%). However, since women are not obligated to eat in a sukkah, this concern does not apply, and Chazal did not establish a prohibition. Rav Nissin Karelitz zt”l (Chut Shani – sukkos 11:15) adds that a woman may even recite the beracha of leisheiv b’sukkah when eating inside a sukkah, but at a table that is outside of the sukkah, since they are not violating a Rabbinic injunction.

I am visiting my parents for the first days of Sukkos and my in-laws for the last days. We hung up, in my parent’s Sukkah, decorations that my children made in school.

Can we take them down and bring them with us and hang them in my in-law’s Sukkah?

Not only does a Sukkah have special holiness, but the decorations are infused with holiness as well. One may not remove Sukkah decorations from a Sukkah for no reason, unless they were hung before Sukkos on condition that they should not become holy. (There is a specific wording that one must say to prevent them from becoming holy – “aini bodel mayhen kol bein hashmashos shel ches yamim.” [I do not separate myself from them all the twilights of the eight days (of Sukkos).]) However, if one is concerned that they will be ruined or stolen, they may be removed (Piskei Teshuvos 638:7 – citing Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach, zt”l). Similarly, Tzitz Eliezer (13:67) writes that if the intent is to hang them in another Sukkah, this too is permitted. He explains that this is not considered “bizui mitzvah” (belittling of the mitzvah), since the decoration is being transferred to another Sukkah. Rav Moshe Sternbuch, shlita points out that one may not decrease the level of sanctity of the decorations. If the decorations were hanging from the s’chach, they should be hung again on the s’chach, which has a higher level of holiness than the walls (Mo’adim U’zmanim 6:68).

By Rabbi Eli Mansour

The verse in Yeshayahu (4:6) foresees the time when there will be a Sukka to provide “shade by day [to protect] from heat, and for protection and shelter from torrents and rain.”

The Lubavitcher Rebbe explained that this verse alludes to us the function that the Sukka is intended to serve already now. We observe Sukkot immediately following the High Holiday period, the experience of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, the ultimate purpose of which is for us to recommit ourselves to the Torah’s laws. Indeed, we conclude the Yom Kippur service by repeating several times the verse in Tehillim (119:145), “Karati Be’chol Leb Aneni Hashem Hukecha Esora” – “I have called with all my heart; answer me, O G-d, I shall keep Your statutes.” We leave Yom Kippur and the High Holiday period with a renewed commitment to “Hukecha Esora,” to carefully and scrupulously observe each and every law of the Torah. The message of the Sukka, the Rebbe explained, is that we must commit ourselves to G-d wholeheartedly, with all our beings, just as our entire bodies are situated in the Sukka. The Sukka symbolizes our complete subjugation and subservience to the Almighty’s word, our placing ourselves entirely and unconditionally at His service.

Returning to the verse in Yeshayahu, the Rebbe noted that the prophet speaks of the Sukka protecting us from “Zerem” (“torrent”), which has the numerical value of 247, and from “Matar” (“rain”), which has the numerical value of 249. These two numbers are, respectively, one lower and one higher than the number of affirmative commands in the Torah (248). The purpose of the Misva of Sukka is to protect us from the tendency to add to or diminish from the Misvot of the Torah. When people take the liberty to tamper with the Torah’s laws, by either disregarding laws which they find unappealing or objectionable, or by adding new ideas that the Torah does not teach, they do so because they are not fully subservient to G-d’s Torah. The message of the Sukka, coming on the heels of Yom Kippur, is to commit and subjugate ourselves unconditionally to G-d’s laws, so that we feel no inclination at all to add or diminish from the Torah. It is told that Rav Shach was once talking with a certain wealthy physician, who told him that he purchases a new Mercedes every few years. He explained that Mercedes, like other auto companies, is constantly upgrading its product, and always enhancing its various models. Rav Shach turned to the man and said, “You’re a cardiologist, so let me ask you, is there any way to upgrade the human heart, just like they’re always upgrading Mercedes?”

“No,” the doctor said. “The human heart is designed perfectly. It was made the first time the best possible way.” Rav Shach observed how when human beings make something, it will, by definition, be imperfect, and thus subject to change and enhancement. When G-d makes something, however, it is perfect and flawless. The Torah, therefore, never needs to be changed. It is perfect just the way it is, and we need to preserve it this way and transmit it in its pristine, perfect form to the next generation, without ever trying to “upgrade” it. Of course, changing realities require our Torah Sages to determine how the timeless laws and principles of the Torah practically apply under the new circumstances. But those laws and principles themselves never change.

This is the message of the Sukka – that we leave Yom Kippur with a renewed commitment to the 248 Misvot, without any thoughts whatsoever of trying to enhance the Torah or tamper with it in any way.

By Chaya Sora Jungreis-Gertzulin

Succos, Z’man Simchaseinu, Festival of our Joy.

It is now three years since the Shemini Atzeres / Simchas Torah massacre of October 7. “We will dance again” became the motto of the Nova music festival.

How ironic. A war that started on Simchas Torah, our day of dancing and rejoicing with the Torah.

We will dance again. Perhaps, without even realizing it, the words are prophetic. The day will come when all Jews will dance again as one people with our Torah.

Simchas Torah, the Joy of Torah. We dance. We sing. We celebrate. We find simcha not just in completing the Five Books, but in the ability to once again start from Bereishis, the very beginning. Following the reading of the final pesukim of the Torah, we call out in unison, Chazak, Chazak, V’nizchazeik, Be strong, Be strong and Be strengthened. Be strong, Be strong and Be strengthened. Even when all looks dismal, we don’t give up. We may shed a tear, or two, but then, with the words of “chazak”, we muster up our strength and celebrate life. This is the strength of Am Yisroel.

It was 5:00 AM. The phone rang, waking both my husband and myself.

“It can’t be good”, my husband said, “Can you get it.” He was right. My revered father-in-law had been seriously ill, and my husband dreaded the possibility of this call. The call was to inform us that his father’s neshamah left this world for a better place. What made the call even more devastating was that the very same day, my husband’s sister, Chanie, was marrying off a son. The family went from funeral, to cemetery, and then to shiva house. All, except Chanie. Despite her inner pain and sorrow, upon guidance from her rov, she went from the cemetery to the wedding hall. To be mother of the chosson. To bless her son and future daughter-in-law. To smile and greet guests. And, yes, even to dance. Only after the wedding, did she join the family in sitting shiva.

How does one go from a parent’s funeral to a child’s wedding on the same day? As Jews, we believe that everything is orchestrated by HaShem. As Shlomo HaMelech writes in Koheles, which we will read on Shemini Atzeres, “There is a time to weep and a time to laugh”. Yes, there is a time to be sad and a time to celebrate.

We celebrate life, and new beginnings. We live with the hope and belief that tomorrow will be better.

As a nation, we experienced our share of suffering. But even in the darkest of dark, we find a shining light. We may be living in a troubled world, but we have faith in a brighter future.

Eli Wiesel wrote of Simchas Torah in a Nazi concentration camp. “Since there was no Sefer Torah, how could they organize the traditional procession with the sacred scrolls? As they were trying to solve the problem, an old man noticed a young boy standing there. ‘Do you remember what you learned in cheder?’ asked the man. ‘Yes, I do’ replied the boy. ‘Really?’ said the man. ‘You remember Shema Yisroel?’

‘I remember much more’ said the boy. ‘Shema Yisroel is enough’ said the man, and he lifted the boy, clasped him in his arms, and began dancing with him, as though he were the Torah. And all joined in. They sang, danced and cried. They wept, but they danced with fervor.”

One can only imagine the pain and suffering, the trauma and tragedies that were endured. Yet, our people strived to find joy and have hope on Simchas Torah. And on Simchas Torah Jews celebrate the privilege of having HaShem’s Torah. And, so they danced, holding a living Torah scroll.

Eli Wiesel’s Simchas Torah story was not the only one that speaks of our nation’s love of children and belief in the future. Little Avrohom was eighteen months old when the Nazis invaded Poland. Wanting to protect him, Avrohom’s parents handed him over to his Catholic nanny for safekeeping, until times would get better. The nanny was quick to baptize him. Avraham became Henrich, and was raised as a devout Catholic.

His parents miraculously survived the Holocaust, and four years later, returned to Vilna to claim their beloved son. It wasn’t easy. The nanny refused to give him up. A long court battle ensued. With gratitude to HaShem, they won. Avrohom was theirs once again.

It was hard at first. Avrohom was taught to hate Jews and openly told his parents so. They responded with love and kindness. On Simchas Torah, Avrohom’s parents took him to the shul in Vilna. A joyous holiday, which they hoped would bring him closer to his religion. As they walked to shul, they passed a monastery. Avrohom stopped to cross himself. Just then, the priest emerged, and Avrohom ran over to kiss his hand. Though deeply pained, Avrohom’s father remained silent. He believed that with time, Avrohom would come around.

The shul in Vilna was a pitiful sight. The Germans did a good job desecrating and defacing the magnificent edifice. The beautiful building lost its glory. Its holy books were destroyed, and there wasn’t a Torah scroll to be found.

In the shul that Simchas Torah night was a newlywed Jewish young couple in search of survivors. The husband was wearing the uniform of a Russian soldier. At one time, he was a Yeshiva bochur, but was taken by the Russians to join their forces. Shyly, he approached little Avrohom. “Are you Jewish”, he asked. He wasn’t sure, since the boy was blond and blue eyed.

“Yes”, Avrohom’s father answered.

To the Torah student turned soldier, Avrohom was a precious treasure. The young couple had traveled many miles to Vilna, without seeing any sign of Jewish life, let alone a Jewish child.

“Can I carry you on my shoulder? Can I dance with you on Simchas Torah?” the young man asked. He lifted Avrohom and danced and danced. He danced with a prayer in his heart that the Torah be passed down mi’dor l’dor, from generation to generation. The young man told the remaining Jews of Vilna that little Avrohom symbolized the future of their nation.

That Simchas Torah experience, and careful nurturing by his parents, left its mark on Avrohom. Slowly and steadily, he grew more and more into his Judaism. Years later, Avrohom became Abe Foxman, Chairman of the Anti-Defamation League, devoting his life to fighting Anti-Semitism and battling for Jewish rights and liberties.

And the soldier who danced with Avrohom? He became Rabbi Leo Goldman, Chief Rabbi of Norway. He later immigrated to the United States, and became a pulpit rabbi in Detroit. And we dance again.

Bucharest, Romania, 1946. Rabbi Yaakov Yosef Twersky, the previous Skverer Rebbe zt”l (1899-1968), his wife Trana, and their family, miraculously survived the war. But shortly before Succos, they suffered the death of their daughter, Feige Malka, after just two years of marriage.

It was Simchas Torah. Even though it was during the Shloshim, the Rebbe danced with much joy, leading others in the hakafos. His Rebbetzin, Trana, couldn’t understand how her husband was able to dance and celebrate after such a tragic loss. The rebbe explained that as a nation, we don’t dance for the past. We dance for the future. We dance with the emunah that there will be a better tomorrow. As hard as it is to believe, the October 7 war is not over. We are still grieving as lives continue to be lost and many more are being injured. It’s not that we will dance again, but we do dance again. We dance amidst the pain, but we dance. We carry our Torah scrolls. Proud to be Jews. Proud to be links in the eternal chain of Am Yisroel.

May we merit to experience a true z’man simchaseinu, ushering in a year of shalom for all of Klal Yisroel.

By Rabbi YY Jacobson

Fiery Law

In the opening of the parsha of Vezos Habracha—the final parsha of the Torah read on Simchas T o r a h — M o s h e describes the giving of the Torah to the Jewish people: He [Moshe] said: “The Lord came from Sinai and shone forth from (the land of) Saeir to them; He appeared from Har Paran and came with some of the holy myriads; from His right hand He gave them a fiery Law.”

Here is how Moshe, in his final moments on earth, described the nature of Torah: “Fiery law,” or in the original Hebrew, “Eish das.” It is an extraordinary and profound description—the best definition for Judaism. “Fire” and “law” are opposites. Law is all about structure, order and rigid behavior, articulated by the law. That is the function of law: to uphold order in a society, to create boundaries which one may not cross. Fire, in contrast, is the opposite of structure. It undermines, destroys and disintegrates any arrangement. It is never confined to one place, always swaying, moving, blazing, dancing, consuming something; it breaks down anything that enters into its realm. Try “telling” a fire to maintain order and to be respectful of boundaries, and it will consume you too. By its very nature, fires defy borders. Which is why fire represents unrestrained passion, zealotry, energy, which aspires to break out of the confined mode and strive for more, as a physical flame which is never content and seeks to consume more.

This is the heart of Judaism: it is both “aish” and “das,” fire and law, combined in one. The two seem paradoxical, but they are not. On the one hand, Judaism demands a life of precise structure and order. Every mitzvah and ritual has its time, place, and specific rules. Judaism demands consistency and stability, day in day out. It keeps us synchronized with the rhythm of time and the passage of seasons; it keeps us aligned with the transitions of light to darkness, and conversely, and to the patterns of the body and the universe. Halacha, Jewish law, is all about specific structure in minute details and specifications. As the countless intricate “laws” that govern the creation of a single cell, Torah governs the life of the Jew. Yet together with that, Torah is “fire.” It challenges us to never stop growing, to open ourselves to the mystery and infinity of life, to transcend our habits and conventions, to re-invent ourselves, and to never stop burning; to continue to explore, grow and climb the mountains of infinity.

The laws of Torah are, in essence, tools to touch transcendence and infinity. The laws are not there to limit and contain, but rather to free up and express our full potential and glory. It’s like tying down the chords of the violin so that it can produce exquisite music. The Old and the Young This is how Torah has the power to attract both the young and the old. Usually, the old folks are more comfortable with “law,” believing in consistency, order and stability. While the young are more comfortable with “fire,” with passion, idealism, breaking the mold and shaking up the status quo. Systems that are based either on “law” (America of the 1950’s) or on “fire” (America of the 60’s), alienate one of the two demographics. Torah, in contrast, is “fiery law,” it is both law and fire, hence its power to capture the souls of the old and the young.

The Endless “Fiery” Quest

A story: It was Simchas Torah, and the disciples of Rabbi Mendel of Horodok, many of whom had journeyed for weeks to spend the joyous festival with their Rebbe, were awaiting his entrance to the synagogue for the recital of the Atah Hor’eisa verses and the hakafot procession. Yet the Rebbe did not appear. Hours passed, and still Rabbi Mendel was secluded in his room.

Finally, they approached Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, who had studied with Rabbi Mendel in Mezeritch under the tutelage of the Great Maggid. Perhaps Rabbi Schneur Zalman, who was revered and loved by Rabbi Mendel, would attempt what no other Chassid would dare: enter the Rebbe’s room and ask him to join his anxiously awaiting followers.

When Rabbi Schneur Zalman entered Rabbi Mendel’s study, he found the Chassidic master deeply engrossed in his thoughts. “The chassidim await you,” said Rabbi Schneur Zalman. “Why don’t you join them for the hakafot?”

“There are a hundred meanings to the verse Atah Hor’eisa,” cried Rabbi Mendel, “And I do not yet fully understand them all. I cannot possibly come out to recite the verse without a proper comprehension of its significance!” “Rebbe!” said Rabbi Schneur Zalman. “When you will reach a full comprehension of the hundred meanings of Atah Hor’eisa, you will discover another hundred meanings you have yet to comprehend…” “You are right,” said Rabbi Mendel, rising from his seat. “Come, let us go to hakafot.” Because Torah is not only law; it is also “fire.” Part of it must always remain elusive, challenging you to transcend yet again.

The “Arms” Below the Universe There is a strange verse in the final parsha of the Torah, read on Simchas Torah: “[The Heavens] Are the abode for the G-d Who precedes all, and below the world are arms. He expelled the enemy from before you, and said, ‘Destroy!’” What is the meaning of this enigmatic statement that “below the world there are arms”?

Rabbi Nachman of Breslov offered the following moving interpretation.

If we had to categorize all of humanity into two groups we could say that there are the people who are comfortable in the world; and there are people who find no place for themselves in our universe. There are those who just have their two feet etched confidentially on the ground. They know who they are and they know what they want, or even if not, they are not bothered by these questions.

But there are others who struggle with deep psychological, emotional, and spiritual dilemmas; people who experience deep anxiety, pain and grief; individuals who suffer from addiction, voids, and other internal maladies. All these people never feel fully present in our world; they never feel grounded and stationed solidly on the earth. Psychologically speaking they feel like they are falling off the ball of the planet. It is to these people who Moshe speaks and says: “Metachas zeroos olam,” below the world there are arms. When you feel like you are “falling off” the planet, that you have no place in our world, that you don’t belong here, you should know that below the world there are arms that will embrace you when you fall. These are the Divine “arms” in whom you can fall right into and allow them to contain all your pain and trauma. But here is the catch: Only those who “fall off” the face of the earth can experience this embrace. As long as you feel secure in your own being, as long as you feel confident in your own ego, you can’t feel the transcendent embrace of G-d. Only when you have nothing else to hold on to can you experience those loving arms which are always present below the world for those who are about to fall into the abyss.

Many of us have lots of pain and challenges in our lives. We often feel like we are “falling off” the planet, with no real light at the end of the tunnel. Allow yourself to land in G-d’s arms wrapped around the universe. Allow G-d to hug you.

A Shaky Hotel

The following story was told by the Rabbi Zalman Gurari, who witnessed the moment, to my late father, Gershon Jacobson: One year, around 1933, a hotel was rented in Warsaw for the sixth Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schnerson (1880-1950) to spend there the last days of Sukkot with his hundreds of disciples and followers, in prayer, study and celebration. It was Simchas Torah during the hakafot. And as is the tradition in Chabad, the dancing was fierce. Hundreds of Chassidim were dancing with all their might, their soul, their heart, as their feet were jumping up and down in the heavenly symphony of Simchas Torah with the Lubavitcher Rebbe. The owner of the hotel was a Rodomsker Chassid, a follower of the Chassidic dynasty of Rodomsk (which was almost completely wiped out in the Holocaust.) He ran over to the Lubavitcher Rebbe and exclaimed: I know the structure of this hotel, and it is not capable of holding up all this pressure, all this jumping and dancing. I am frightened that the building will cave in on us and the results can be catastrophic. You must tell the Chasidim to stop dancing at once! The Rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneerson, smiled and said to him: The Torah states “Metachas zeroos olam,” below the world there are arms. The Kabbalah explains this as referring to “zeroos d’Adam Kadmon,” the Divine arms which hold up the entire universe and the entire planet. Our planet, the earth, is suspended in mid-space. Who holds it up? G-d’s “arms!”

So, my dear Jew, the same “arms” holding up the entire planet, will hold up this hotel too!

The Chassidim continues to dance, jump and celebrate, till the wee hours of the morning. The hotel remained intact. But the greatest miracle, said Reb Zalman, was that this non-Chabad Chassid returned to his previous position calm and serene, with full trust in the words of the Rebbe.

By Rabbi Efrem Goldberg

Imagine for a moment that your heart stops beating. There is no pulse, no breath, and suddenly you are no longer in control of what happens next. A woman in our community experienced exactly that when, while out at a birthday dinner, she suddenly collapsed and her heart completely stopped. The restaurant called an ambulance and, miraculously, while they were waiting for help, her heart started beating again, but when she arrived at the hospital, she flatlined and literally died. Her husband stood there terrified and helpless, with nothing he could do medically, so he began to daven with an intensity he had never felt before. He had said the words countless times, but never like this, never with his wife’s life hanging in the balance, as he begged Hashem to be .life to back dead the bring to ְ,מְַחֵַּיּה ֵמִֵתִים Baruch Hashem, after what must have felt like an eternity, her heart began to beat again. Today, she is alive and well, with a pacemaker and a completely different perspective on life, thinking often about how easily the story could have ended differently. It could have happened while she was driving, she could have been alone, or she could have been somewhere without immediate help, but instead Hashem gave her another chance. People who go through something like that often divide their lives into two periods: everything that came before the experience and everything that came after, because they don’t, they can’t, simply recover from something like that. In some sense they are reborn. Perhaps that is exactly how we are supposed to feel on Sukkos.

ּוְלְַקְַח ּ ְֶּתם ָלֶָכֶם- ַּבּּיֹום ,-us tells Torah The ָהִָרִאׁשֹון ְּפִּרִי ֵעֵץ- ָהָָדָר ַּכֹּּפּת- ְּתָּמִָרִים ַו ֲַעֲַנַף- ֵעֵץ ָעָֹבֹת- ְוְַעְַרְֵבֵי ָנַָחַל- ּוְׂש ַ ַׂמְח ּ ְֶּתם ִלְִפְֵנֵי- ה‘ ֱאֱֹלֹקיֶכֶם-יםִמִָיָ תַעַבְׁשְִׁ . We don’t simply pick up a lulav and esrog, we shake them and move them in every direction. The Rambam describes bringing the arba minim forward and back, up and down, again and again, and there is a noticeable energy and movement to this mitzvah that begs the question of what exactly we are expressing and why we express it specifically now.

The Rosh, Avudraham, and Beis Yosef point us to a Midrash Tanchuma that explains that on Rosh Hashanah we stand in judgment and don’t yet know the outcome, but when Sukkos arrives, we emerge holding our lulavim like someone walking out of a courtroom having received a favorable verdict. According to this image, the lulav is a symbol of victory, and there is certainly something powerful and compelling about that idea, particularly after the intensity of the Yamim Noraim. And yet, there is also something about it that has always bothered me. Is that really how we should emerge from our days of literal awe, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, triumphantly celebrating that we won and publicly displaying the favorable judgment we received?

There is another Midrash that offers a very different image, one that I find incredibly A “ְ,וְַעַם ִנִ ְְבָרָא ְיְַהֶַּלּל ָיָּה ,says Tehillim .moving nation that has been created will praise Hashem,” and Vayikra Rabbah explains, וּלֵּאֵ ּ-דֹורֹות- ַַהָּלּלּו ֶׁשֵׁהֵם- ְנְטּוִיִין ְלְִמִיָתָה,- ְוְַעַם ִנִ ְְבָרָא ְיְַהֶַּלּל קּה, ֶׁשַׁהַָּקּדֹוׁש ָּבּרּוְך הּוא- ָעִָתִיד ִלִ ְְבראֹות-אֹוָתָן ְּבִּרִָּיּה- ֲחֲָדָָׁשׁה, ּוֶמֶה- ָעֵָלֵינּו ַלֲַעֲׂשֹות,- ִלִַּקּח These .לּוָלָבְ-וְֶאֶ ְְתרֹוג ּוְנְַקֵַּלּס- ְלְַהַָּקּדֹוׁש ָּבּרּוְך- הּוא are people who were destined for death and Hashem creates them anew, and what are they supposed to do after receiving this new life? They take a lulav and esrog and praise Hashem.

According to this Midrash, the lulav isn’t a victory flag at all, it is what you hold when you realize you have just been given your life back. Think about what we have just experienced on Yom Kippur, which in so many ways is a dress rehearsal for death. Men wear a kittel, the garment in which they will one day be buried. We say vidui just as a person does at the end of life. We don’t eat or drink, and we remove ourselves from physical pleasure and comfort. For one day, we try to transcend our bodies and live almost entirely as souls, not because Judaism is obsessed with dying, but precisely because it is obsessed with living, and sometimes we need to confront death in order to appreciate life.

Then Yom Kippur ends, and we eat again, drink again, build a sukkah, pick up the daled minim, sing, dance and celebrate because our heartbeat has come back. Sukkos is the celebration of another chance, another year, and another opportunity to get it right. The joy of Sukkos isn’t only that we were inscribed for life, it is the realization that life itself has been handed back to us. There is even a remarkable Halachic expression of this idea. The Gemara in Berachos says that if you haven’t seen a friend for thirty days, under the appropriate circumstances you recite Shehechiyanu, but if you haven’t seen someone for twelve ָּ,בּרּוְך ְמְַחֵַּיּה ַה ּ ֵַּמִתִים recite you ,months Blessed is the One Who revives the dead. At first glance, that sounds a little dramatic, because while it is certainly wonderful to see someone you haven’t seen in a year, why should that reunion invoke the resurrection of the dead?

The Maharsha gives an extraordinary explanation. If twelve months have passed, then since the last time you saw this person, he has gone through another Rosh Hashanah and another Yom Kippur, stood in judgment again and passed through another When .מי יחיה ומי ימות you see him now, you aren’t simply seeing an old friend whom you haven’t seen in a while, you are looking at someone who has been given life again, and ְמְַחֵַּיּה ַה ּ ֵַּמִתִים why is that is precisely the appropriate beracha.

Perhaps that is how we are supposed to look at one another after Yom Kippur, and perhaps that is also how we should look at ourselves. On October 7, IDF soldier Itai Sagi was fighting with his elite Maglan unit near the Gaza border when his unit came under attack, with gunfire coming from every direction and grenades exploding around them. Six of his friends were critically wounded almost immediately, and Itai understood that he had to keep fighting, if only to buy time for the others, until a grenade exploded near him and suddenly he was on the ground. He later described feeling as though his soul had left his body and he could see himself lying there, while for a few moments he experienced a strange sense of peace. Then he began seeing flashes of a future he had not yet lived, the home he hoped to build, his family, his niece’s face, and a whole life that might never happen, and something inside him began screaming that he had to breathe and fight his way back. His friends managed to pull him to safety, he underwent lifesaving surgery, and he survived, but survival changed him because it wasn’t simply that he had escaped death. He understood that he had been given more life, and when you understand that your life has been given back to you, the obvious question becomes what you are going to do with it. This may be the real question of Sukkos.

The Torah calls the first day of Sukkos וםֹיּּבַּ וןֹשׁאִרִָהָ,” the first day,” and perhaps after the experience of Yom Kippur it really is the first day, the first day of the rest of our lives. for take ּ,וְלְַקְַח ּ ְֶּתם ָלֶָכֶם ,us tells Hashem yourselves, take hold of this year, take hold of the people you love, take hold of your relationship with Hashem, and take hold of the things you keep promising yourself you will get to one day. There are phone calls we need to make, relationships we need to repair, learning we need to begin, changes in our davening we have been postponing, and people we love who need to hear what they mean to us. We reflected on, and davened about, these things for ten meaningful days, and now we have been given life, and the challenge is not simply to remain alive but to truly live.

Then we go sit in a sukkah, a flimsy and temporary structure with a roof that reminds us how little in this world is actually permanent. Our homes aren’t permanent, our possessions aren’t permanent, our bodies aren’t permanent and we aren’t permanent, and right there, surrounded by fragility and impermanence, the Torah tells us to be happy. Perhaps it isn’t despite that fragility that we are happy, but because recognizing how fragile life is allows us to finally appreciate how precious it is.

We sometimes think that being “inscribed for life” means we successfully avoided death, but perhaps it means much more than that. We have been entrusted with life. Hashem has handed us another year and asked what we are going to do with it. There are relationships to repair, apologies to offer, grudges to release, Torah to learn, tefillos to say with more focus, children and grandchildren to enjoy, people who need our help, dreams we keep postponing, and ordinary moments we keep rushing through while waiting for something more important to happen. The truth is that these are the important things, and this life, this day and this breath are the gifts we so often fail to notice.

The woman whose heart stopped knows that, Itai knows that, and anyone who has stood at the boundary between life and death knows it in a way the rest of us can only imagine. Sukkos challenges us not to wait until we almost lose our lives to appreciate that we have them. We pick up the lulav and wave it with everything we have, not as a victory flag announcing that we won, but as an expression of overwhelming gratitude to the One Who has given us our lives back. Thank You for another heartbeat, another breath, another Yom Tov, another year, another opportunity to love the people around us, another chance to become who we are capable of becoming.

By Rabbi Shay Tahan

Although our Sages praised those who remain in their homes on Yom Tov and Chol HaMoed, one is nevertheless permitted to go on

an outing with his family.

The Gemara (Sukkah 27b) states: “Rabbi Eliezer says: I praise the lazy people who do not leave their homes on the festival, as it is written, ‘You shall rejoice, you and your household.’” Rashi explains: “Even though they do not remain at home specifically because of the festival—for they do not leave their homes throughout the year because of their laziness—even so, I praise them.”

The Gemara explains that this statement applies when one leaves and does not return that same day. However, if he leaves and returns that same day, there is no deficiency in his going. Rashi explains that in such a case, he rejoices in the festival together with his wife. We therefore learn that when one travels together with his wife and family, this concern does not apply.

The sefer Maggid Meisharim questioned how the Sages at the Passover Seder could have been reclining in Bnei Brak, among them Rabbi Eliezer, who was the author of the statement cited above. He answered that perhaps those Sages went together with all the members of their households. From these we learn that when one goes on an outing together with his family, there is no deficiency in leaving the home.

Although one is permitted to go on an outing during Chol HaMoed, he should be careful to preserve the sanctity of the festival. That means wearing Yom Tov clothing, eating a Yom Tov meal, avoiding places that are inappropriate, and making an effort to spend some time studying Torah. The Yerushalmi already warned about this (cited in the Mishnah Berurah, 530:2): “If there were someone who would join me, I would permit them to perform work on Chol HaMoed. Is work forbidden merely so that they should eat, drink, and toil in Torah? Yet now they eat, drink, and engage in frivolity.” The Kol Bo writes: “It appears from this that frivolity is a greater prohibition than work, for the intention of Hashem in giving the festival was that one should cleave to His fear and engage in His perfect Torah.”A person is permitted to go on outings during Sukkot and eat outside the sukkah when doing so is necessary for relaxation or for the sake of shalom bayit.

The Gemara (Sukkah 26a) teaches that travelers are exempt from the sukkah. This is derived from the pasuk, “You shall dwell in sukkot for seven days,” which our Sages interpreted to mean, “Dwell [in the sukkah] as you dwell [in your home].” In other words, the mitzvah of sukkah is meant to resemble a person’s dwelling in his home. Just as a person does not refrain from leaving his home throughout the year for business and similar needs, so too, throughout Sukkot, the Torah did not require a person to refrain from traveling (Rashi). Accordingly, it would seem that there is no prohibition against going on an outing. This was indeed the view of Rabbi Yosef Shalom Elyashiv and Rabbi Nissim Karelitz (Chut HaShani, Sukkah, p. 267), as well as Rabbi Moshe Sternbuch (Teshuvot VeHanhagot, Vol. 6, no. 146).

However, several other halachic authorities ruled that this is prohibited, including Rabbi Moshe Feinstein (Igrot Moshe, O.C., Vol. 3, no. 93), Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Auerbach (cited in HaSukkah, Vol. 2, p. 605), and Rabbi Ovadiah Yosef (Yechaveh Da’at, Vol. 3, no. 47). They understood that the exemption for travelers applies only to someone who leaves for a necessary purpose, but not to someone who leaves merely for pleasure and recreation. Nevertheless, even those who permit going on outings maintain that one should not forego this important mitzvah merely for the sake of a recreational trip. Therefore, one should make an effort before leaving to determine where there will be a sukkah along the way in which he can eat. It is worth considering the reality of our times, when large numbers of families go on outings during Chol HaMoed. Although these outings are certainly undertaken for pleasure, they often serve an important purpose: providing an opportunity to rest, recharge, and spend meaningful time with one’s wife and children.

It would seem that circumstances have indeed changed. In previous generations, people often enjoyed remaining at home or visiting friends and family. Today, however, there is often a genuine need for families to go on outings. Otherwise, family harmony may sometimes be affected, as the children become bored, the wife strongly desires to go out, and the person himself may need to take a break from the pressures of everyday life.

Indeed, this can be inferred from the language of the authorities who prohibit going on outings, who wrote that there is no need to leave for trips undertaken merely for pleasure. Accordingly, when an outing serves a genuine need, there is room to say that even they would agree that it is permitted. This was cited in Kovetz Noam (Vol. 24, p. 244), that for some people, an outing is considered a need for physical or emotional rest. It may also constitute fulfillment of the mitzvah of “You shall rejoice on your festival,” and at times it may also serve the purpose of shalom bayit.

Rabbi Moshe Sternbuch wrote: “In my humble opinion, according to what the Yereim (no. 427) wrote, that one fulfills the mitzvah of the festival through anything that brings him joy and satisfaction, if so, since he enjoys going on an outing, he fulfills through this the mitzvah of rejoicing on Yom Tov. Therefore, it is permissible to go on an outing during the festival and be exempt from the sukkah, when he cannot postpone the outing until before or after the festival, but rather it is necessary for him specifically to go on an outing during the festival in order to fulfill his mitzvah of rejoicing on the festival. And certainly this applies when, as is common, his wife and young children strongly desire to go on an outing with him, in which case it is a mitzvah for him to go out with them, as he thereby also fulfills his obligation to gladden his wife and household, which is a fundamental obligation of the joy of Yom Tov… Furthermore, it can be suggested that I saw it cited that there was someone who made a practice never to leave the sukkah, and the Chazon Ish questioned this practice, since this is not ‘as you dwell,’ for it is comparable to a prison.”

Nevertheless, one should be careful not to spend the majority of his time outside the sukkah, as doing so diminishes the character of the festival and turns these important days into ordinary weekdays.

A traveler can make a sukkah from his car and eat there as needed.

There are several ways to transform a car into a sukkah, provided that certain conditions are met. The following are the possibilities: A. If there are two cars, they can be parked close to one another, with the sides of the cars serving as two walls. Since a kosher sukkah requires three walls, the door of one of the cars can be opened to serve as the third wall, after which schach can be placed on top.

However, it is important to know that a wall beneath which there is a gap of three tefachim (24 cm / approximately 9.5 inches) is invalid. Since there is generally a gap of three tefachim or more beneath a car, one should place something there to close the gap, or park the car next to a raised curb so that the gap is less than three tefachim. Another point that must be considered is the height of the space beneath the schach. In a sukkah constructed as described above, the roof will generally be low, so one must ensure that the schach does not descend below ten tefachim, since the sukkah would then be invalid.

B. When there is only one car, it can be parked next to a fence or wall. The fence and the car can then serve as two walls, and by opening the car door, a third wall is created. Here too, one must ensure that there is no gap of three tefachim beneath the door. C. In a car that has both a front door and a rear door, both doors can be opened, thereby creating three walls.

D. In a car with a sunroof that opens, one can place schach over the opening after opening the sunroof, and then sit beneath it and eat. One must ensure that the opening is at least seven tefachim (56 cm / approximately 22 inches) in both length and width. There must also be at least ten tefachim of open space beneath the sunroof, since the minimum height of a sukkah is ten tefachim.

Although the walls of the car may be some distance away from the place of the schach, this can nevertheless be permitted based on the halachah of dofen akumah, which is a halachah leMoshe miSinai. The principle of dofen akumah allows us to consider a section of an invalid roof extending from the wall toward the schach as part of the wall, up to a distance of four amot, on all four sides.

By Rabbi Reuven and Shira Boshnack

Dear Rabbi and Shira , I’m engaged to an awesome girl but I am not sure what to do about her work habits . She has a challenging job that keeps her busy 24/7. Her boss doesn’t mind if she comes to the office or does her work from home as long as the job gets done. Unfortunately, the job gets done when we are on dates or just in the middle of a discussion. One minute I’m having a conversation with her and the next minute she’s talking, voice noting, or texting on her phone completely oblivious to me and our conversation. This is obviously very hurtful. Although she wants to have better phone habits, she is having trouble breaking this vicious cycle and I am not sure how to help her. – Distracted in Ditmas

Dear Distracted, Thanks for writing! Welcome to the year 2020! The challenges you are experiencing are the obstacles many face as the work force has become more mobile and as the world can be accessed instantly in the palm of our hands. While it is great that your kallah’s job is flexible and that she can work from home, you are learning that this flexibility comes with its own set of challenges.

In terms of your Kallah’s work habits, are her sudden entrances into “Work mode” because she remembers to do something, because her job comes with a lot of crises, or a little of both? Have a conversation with her about which messages/emails are considered urgent, which are important, and which are neither. Agree on a signal, or method of communicating that she has entered “work mode,” to help manage the transitions. We think you should discuss with her how her spontaneous work is affecting your relationship. Explain how it feels to you when you are in the middle of a conversation and she chooses the phone instead.

Although you say her job is consuming her 24 hours a day, does she need to be on call for that long? Even doctors have work hours. Is she fully aware of the amount of time she is spending on the phone? There is a feature called Screen Time on the iphone which reports how many hours a day a person spends on the phone. By monitoring herself, she can analyze her usage and begin to plan how to better use her time.

What other boundaries can she put into place to limit her hours a day that she is working? Perhaps she can put her phone on airplane mode a few hours each day. What rules can you both set up to maximize your time together with the minimum amount of distraction?

Think about yourself as well, are you doing this as well and not noticing?

Come up with an action plan on how the two of will make time for each other each day with limited distraction. With the proper planning, you’ll be able to make that job’s flexibility work for the both you.

Hatzlacha Rabah

Rabbi Reuven and Shira Boshnack.

By Rabbi Moishe Dovid Lebovits

The subject of whether one should sit in the sukkah on Shemini Atzeres has been the topic of debate and discussion since time immemorial. There are many who have the custom not to sit in the sukkah (mainly chassidim), while there are many others who do. Others have the custom to eat there at night and not by day, or to only make Kiddush in the sukkah by day and then go inside. There are those who sit in the sukkah on Shemini Atzeres, but their in-laws do not. What should they do? When people go to Eretz Yisrael for Sukkos where there is only one day of Yom Tov, should they sit in the sukkah on Shemini Atzeres? We will discuss some of the halachos and opinions related to this sensitive but important and practical area of halachah.

Introduction

The Gemara in Sukkah vacillates between different opinions on the halachos of sitting in the sukkah and reciting a brachah of Leisheiv Basukkah on Shemini Atzeres, when there is a safeik over whether it is included in the Yom Tov of Sukkos. One interpretation is that all opinions agree that no brachah is made, but the argument is over whether one should sit in the sukkah. Another interpretation is that all agree that one should not sit in the sukkah, but the argument is over whether the brachah is made. The Gemara concludes that one should sit in the sukkah without reciting the brachah, because it would seem odd to do so; if it is Shemini Atzeres then it is not Sukkos, and if it is Sukkos it is not Shemini Atzeres. In addition, if one recited the brachah it would look like he was adding to the Yom Tov of Sukkos, which is not allowed because of bal tosif (adding to a mitzvah).

According to all opinions, one does not take arba minim on Shemini Atzeres. They are considered muktzeh, since there is a safeik whether Shemini Atzeres is part of Sukkos. There are those who say that since only the first day of Yom Tov is d’Oraisa and the other days are d’Rabbanan, on Shemini Atzeres we are lenient with it and do not take them. However, sitting in a sukkah can be beneficial for a person even if he is not doing it for a mitzvah (e.g. it is comfortable to sit there), and therefore can be considered oneg Yom Tov. The opinion that one should sit in the sukkah on Shemini Atzeres is quoted by many poskim (in Chutz L’Aretz). Those who eat in the sukkah on Shemini Atzeres should train their children to do the same. In Eretz Yisrael, where there is only one day of Yom Tov for both Shemini Atzeres and Simchas Torah, no one eats in the sukkah.

As mentioned above, since the Gemara and many poskim maintain that sitting in the sukkah is required on Shemini Atzeres (in Chutz L’Aretz), then why do so many not eat in the sukkah?

Different Customs

The Tur quotes a custom of some to eat in the sukkah on Shemini Atzeres but not to sleep there. However, he says the custom is not to do this, and those who sit in the sukkah should sit there by night and by day. There are those who make Kiddush, eat a bit in the sukkah and eat the rest of the meal in the house. Others do not eat in the sukkah at all on Shemini Atzeres (see below).

Although the following poskim disagree, they quote the custom of some who did not sit in the sukkah: Shiltei Giborim, Elyah Rabbah, Darchei Moshe, Beis Yosef, Taz, Magen Avraham, Yosef Ometz, Be’er Heitiv, Noda B’Yehudah, Chachmas Shlomo, and others.

Those Who Did Not Eat in the Sukkah on Shemini Atzeres

Although there are many poskim who say one should eat in the sukkah on Shemini Atzeres, there are Rishonim who say it is not required and was not done.

Rashi says that in his times there were many gedolim (such as Rabbeinu Eliezer and Rabbeinu Shmuel) who did not eat in the sukkah on Shemini Atzeres at night. In the thirteenth to fourteenth century, it is written that some did not sit in the sukkah. The reason for the leniency was based on the Yerushalmi (see below). Rabbeinu Chananel says the custom is to sit the entire day in the sukkah. The fact that he said “entire” indicates that there were those who did not sit the entire day in the sukkah in his days. The Maharam Igra ate in his house at night and in the sukkah during the day. The Maharil went to visit Harav Meir M’Igra who ate in his house, and he did not object to it. The Lombardi family (in Italy) did not eat in the sukkah. The custom of the Baal Shem Tov was not to eat in the sukkah on Shemini Atzeres.

He practiced the custom of Eretz Yisrael because he lived with the kedushah of Eretz Yisrael. The Yosef Ometz says the Taryash family (about the sixteenth century) ate outside the sukkah, and they have upon whom to rely.

Some explain that there are those who ate inside at night because it was cold at night and the sukkah was not pleasant (see below). They ate in the house because if they ate in the sukkah it would appear as if they were doing it for the mitzvah and not for oneg.

One can see from the above sources that the custom of many to refrain from eating in the sukkah on Shemini Atzeres did not begin with chassidim; rather, it started much earlier.

Those Who Ate in the Sukkah

Rashi ate in the sukkah during the day and night of Shemini Atzeres. Rashi’s rebbi Rabbeinu Yitzchak also sat in the sukkah. The Maharil ate in the sukkah during both night and day. The Gra ate in the sukkah on Shemini Atzeres. The Chasam Sofer zt”l ate in the sukkah. Harav Yosef Ber Soloveitchik zt”l opined strongly that one must sit in the sukkah.

The Yerushalmi

As mentioned above, some gedolim did not eat in the sukkah based on the Yerushalmi that says: Sukkah on the seventh day, how? …you need to make your sukkah pasul from midday and make Kiddush in your home. Rav Chanina says one whose sukkah is pleasant should make Kiddush on the night (see below) of the last days of Sukkos in his house and eat in the sukkah. If he wants to eat in the sukkah he still has to make Kiddush in his house, because when he says “Shemini Atzeres” in Kiddush, if he is still in the sukkah it is a contradiction. It is apparent from the Yerushalmi that if the sukkah is not pleasant (e.g. if it is cold or windy) then one does not have to sit in it on Shemini Atzeres.

Some explain that the Yerushalmi is referring to Eretz Yisrael, where there is only one day of Yom Tov, and even if one enjoys being in the sukkah he makes Kiddush in the house. However, others say the Yerushalmi said nights, which indicates that even in Chutz L’Aretz, where there are two days of Yom Tov, one should make Kiddush in his house.

A Chiddush

There is a chiddush on the reason why people do not eat in the sukkah on Shemini Atzeres: As mentioned above, there are two interpretations of the halachah regarding sitting in the sukkah on Shemini Atzeres, and the Gemara says the final halachah. However, Rav Yehudah ben Kalonimus says that the line in the Gemara that “the halachah is to sit but not [recite] a brachah” is not part of the original Gemara and was added in later. Generally, if there are two interpretations of a Gemara we follow the second. In this case, the second interpretation is that all agree not to sit in the sukkah but the argument is over whether a brachah is recited. Accordingly, he says we should not sit in the sukkah on Shemini Atzeres. He further questions, how we can sit in the sukkah after we ask for rain? Additionally, how can we say in Kiddush that it is Shemini Atzeres and then sit in the sukkah?

According to this, why does anyone sit in the sukkah? He says that since Chazal said there have to be two days of Yom Tov in Chutz L’Aretz, if we do not sit in the sukkah on any of those days then they are definitely not Sukkos, and there is a concern of making Yom Tov disgraceful.

Other Reasons for the Lenient Custom

One should not think that those who do not eat in the sukkah on Shemini Atzeres are doing something against halachah, as there are reasons for their practice. Many great people have eaten outside the sukkah on Shemini Atzeres.

The Aruch Hashulchan offers the following reason why many are lenient with sitting and eating in the sukkah on Shemini Atzeres:

By Rabbi Gil Student

It used to be quite popular to use a canvas sukkah although with the recent advent of easier-to-assemble sukkahs, such as the modular sukkah and the “ease lock” sukkah, they are becoming less common. However, the concept of a canvas sukkah is actually centuries old and is specifically mentioned in the Shulchan Arukh (Orach Chaim 630:10) as being forbidden. This raises the question of how so many people could have used canvas sukkahs. There are two potential problems with a canvas sukkah.

I. Becoming Untied

The medieval sukkah under discussion was made of flax. Rabbenu Peretz (gloss to Semak 93, n. 19 in the standard Satmar 1935 edition) says that the standard practice in his day (13th cen., France) was to use flax sheets for all four sukkah walls. He says that this is improper because even if you tie them well, sometimes they get untied and flap in the wind. Because of this, he and others forbade using flax walls for a sukkah, and that is recorded in Shulchan Arukh (ibid.).

Piskei Teshuvos (630:9) quotes Rav Yosef Chaim Sonnenfeld (Salmas Chaim 253), Kinyan Torah (4:70) and Rav Menasheh Klein (Mishneh Halakhos 5:77) as ruling that if you tie the canvas on all sides to the frame then the sukkah is kosher. It is suggested that Rabbenu Peretz was discussing a limited case in which it was common for the sheets to become untied and flap in the wind. However, if you tie them well so this is not a concern then there is no problem. Rav Moshe Sternbuch (Mo’adim U-Zemanim 1:84) and Rav Moshe Feinstein (Iggeros Moshe, Orach Chaim 5:40:2) also raise this possibility but rule strictly on this.

II. Moving Walls

The underlying concern is that the Gemara (Sukkah 23a) states that a wall that cannot withstand a regular wind is not considered a wall. Therefore, if you build a large house of cards and put sekhakh on it, you cannot use that as your sukkah because it will almost certainly fall down under ordinary circumstances. However, the Gemara does not define what exactly it means that a wall cannot withstand a regular wind. Does it mean that the wall will be moved by the wind or fall down because of the wind? This has practical ramifications regarding a canvas sukkah because canvas walls sway in the wind. The Chazon Ish (Orach Chaim 77:6) rules that as long as a regular wind does not move the wall so much that it becomes invalid (e.g. falls down or is moved so far from the sekhakh or the ground that the wall is invalid) then it is kosher. Therefore, this rule does not pose a problem for canvas walls. Rav Yitzchak Isaac Liebes (Beis Avi 4:73:17) agrees with the Chazon Ish and specifically permits a canvas sukkah.

Rav Ya’akov Beruchin of Karlin, in his early 19th century challenges to the modern eruv, argues that the eruv string must be so tight that it never sways in the wind (Mishkenos Ya’akov 1:123). He compares this to a sukkah wall, which also must never sway in the wind. According to Rav Ya’akov of Karlin, a canvas sukkah would be invalid. However, the Chazon Ish (Orach Chaim 71:10, 77:6) disagrees with this stringency and only rejects a sagging eruv string if the wind might blow it outside of the range between the two poles it connects. Rav Tzvi Pesach Frank (Har Tzvi, Orach Chaim vol. 2 18:8) rules even more leniently and permits sagging eruv strings as long as a significant portion of the string is above ten tefachim from the ground.

Most others, however, are stricter than the Chazon Ish regarding sukkah walls. Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach (Halikhos Shlomo, Mo’adim vol. 2 7:1) rules that if the wind moves the wall even a little bit then the wall is invalid, similar to the Mishkenos Ya’akov. Rav Ovadiah Yosef (Yechaveh Da’as 3:46; Yabi’a Omer, vol. 9 Orach Chaim 59:A) rules likewise and explicitly argues with the Chazon Ish. I recall hearing many years ago from Rav Hershel Schachter of two other positions — that if the wind moves the wall more than 1 tefach (appr. 3 inches) or 3 tefachim (appr. 10 inches) then the wall is invalid, but otherwise not. He said the latter position of 3 tefachim in the name of Rav Ya’akov Kamenetsky. While I have not seen anything like that in writing in his name, his son — Rav Shmuel Kamenetsky — rules that way in Kovetz Halakhos (Sukkah 4:3).

III. Conclusion

Most authorities agree that it is best not to use canvas sukkahs, even if the walls are tied tightly, although the practical concern depends on their placement and tightness — specifically, how much the walls actually sway in normal winds. However, some authorities permit a canvas sukkah whose walls are securely tied, and perhaps there is room even for those who are normally strict to be lenient in cases of need.

For example, when visiting family or friends who have a canvas sukkah, there might be room to be lenient. I remember once visiting a small, out-of-town community on Chol Hamoed and all visitors were directed to use the rabbi’s sukkah, which was made of canvas. Apparently, it was the only one available to people passing through. That presented us with three options: either rely on the lenient view and eat in the canvas sukkah, rely on another lenient view that travelers are exempt from sukkah (worthy of another article) or eat food that does not require a sukkah. Thankfully, nowadays this problem has receded due to the newer sukkah designs that have become popular. Although, of course, ask your rabbi if this ever becomes a practical question.

DELMONICO ROAST

INGREDIENTS:

3-3.5 lb. Delmonico roast
3 Cloves Garlic, minced
1 tbsp. Prepared white
Horseradish
1 tbsp. Fresh Rosemary,
finely chopped
3 tbsp. Extra Virgin Olive Oil
Kosher Salt and Pepper
1 c. Red Wine

DIRECTIONS:

This delicious roast recipe will be the centerpiece of
your Succos table. The recipe works really well with
delmonico roast you can use a chuck eue roast as well.
Preheat oven to 350. In a small bowl, combine the
garlic, horseradish, rosemary, olive oil, salt and pepper
until it forms a paste. Add meat to a roasting pan and
spread the mixture on top and add 1 cup of the red
wine to the bottom of the pan and place in the oven.
Cook for approximately 1.5 hours or until the desired
internal temperature. (We like ours medium with an
internal temperature of 150 degrees F). Allow to rest for
10 minutes before carving.

OMA’S GRUNKERN SOUP

INGREDIENTS:

3 large carrots 3 large carrots,
chopped
2 large onions, chopped
1 package meat bones
1 package whole
Grunkern
12 qts chicken broth
Salt and pepper to taste

DIRECTIONS:

Do you have a memory of food from your
youth? I have so many – including this
grunkern soup my Oma used to make.
Combine all the ingredients in a large
stockpot and let it come to a boil for 4 to 5
hours. Freezes well.
So good – just like Oma made.
Enjoy!

KAHLUA CAKE

We love dessert, but I don’t always have the time to make something
fancy or complicated. Using a Duncan Hines cakes mix and doctoring it
up is the perfect solution. We still get a delicious home baked cake but
it only takes 5 minutes to put together.

INGREDIENTS:

1 Duncan Hines
yellow cake mix
1 box chocolate
pudding mix
1 cup oil
4 eggs
3⁄4 cup strong coffee
1⁄4 cup Kahlua – or
coffee liquor
1⁄4 cup vodka

DIRECTIONS:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Mix all ingredients well. Pour into greased Bundt pan.
Bake for 45 minutes until toothpick comes out clean.

By Rabbi Aryeh Lebowitz

And the men got up from there, and they looked down upon the face of Sodom, and Avraham walked with them to send them off.

Bereishis 18:16 A fascinating kuntrus entitled Omer HaShikcha, gathers “forgotten” halachos, those found in the Gemara and discussed by the rishonim but for some reason not codified in the Shulchan Aruch. These include the prohibition against speaking lashon hara, the obligation to have a mechitzah in a shul, and numerous others. One example is the obligation of levayah, for a host to escort his guest out of his home. The Gemara discusses this mitzvah, and the Rambam records it (Hilchos Avel 14:2) and even explains that we learn this practice from no less than Avraham Avinu himself. The Rambam adds that escorting one’s guests on their way is the greatest aspect of the mitzvah of hachnasas orchim, and yet it is not found in the Shulchan Aruch.

The Source

The Gemara (Sotah 46b) derives this mitzvah from the parsha of eglah arufah. After the dead body of a stranger is found in the vicinity of a town, the ziknei ha’ir oversee the ritual of the eglah arufah and proclaim that “our hands did not spill this blood.” The Gemara explains that beyond actually committing the murder, they are declaring that they are in no way complicit or even indirectly responsible for the murder. This includes the fact that “they did not see this man leaving and refrain from providing him with an escort.” Thus, we see the responsibility that a host has to escort his guest, since one who deliberately does not escort his guest is deemed complicit in any ill that befalls him.

Rabbi Meir rules that we are kofeh (we force) the host to escort his guest, just as we would for any positive mitzvah that one refuses to observe. He emphasizes that the reward for this mitzvah is boundless, as illustrated by the city of Luz, a C’na’ani built the city, and because they observed this mitzvah by merely pointing the way for a departing guest, they were rewarded in four ways: the city of Luz produced techeiles; it was neither captured nor relocated by Sancherev; it was not destroyed by Nevuchadnetzar; and the Malach HaMavess had no jurisdiction there —someone wishing to die had to first leave the city. Rabbi Meir concludes that if a C’na’ani city received such a reward for performing this mitzvah in a minor way, kal vachomer if Jews observe the mitzvah properly, they will be rewarded beyond their imagination.

The Reasons for the Mitzvah

The above cited Gemara implies that the obligation of levayah falls upon the beis din and not the individual hosts, since the source for the halacha is learned from the beis din’s declaration. However, the Rambam, cited above, derives the mitzvah from Avraham Avinu, a different source, which implies that the obligation falls upon the individual host to escort his guests. Rav Asher Weiss (Minchas Asher Al HaTorah Bereishis 32) suggests that there are two aspects and two reasons for this mitzvah. The beis din, on behalf of the community, must escort the guest or ensure he is escorted in a manner that will ensure his safety. Additionally, emulating Avraham Avinu, the host has a personal obligation to escort his guest as an expression of respect and appreciation. We can prove that interpersonal respect and care is one aspect of the mitzvah from the Gemara that teaches that one receives great reward for escorting his guest even four amos, but the full shiur mitzvah is much greater. A rebbi should escort his talmid all the way until the outskirts of the city. An individual should escort a friend beyond the city limits until the end of the techum Shabbos, another 2,000 amos. A talmid should escort his rebbi a full parsah (8,000 amos), and for a rebbi muvhak he should go up to three parsahs. Clearly, these differences are rooted in the different levels of respect that the host must show to his guest. If the only reason for the mitzvah of levayah was safety, these differences would not make sense.

At the same time, the declaration associated with the eglah arufah, which states that the city did not neglect to escort the person, highlights another purpose of the mitzvah: ensuring the safety of the traveling guest. How exactly does an escort ensure safety? The Maharsha (Sotah 46b s.v. UMah) explains that escorting guests prevents them from getting lost and potentially getting harmed on unfamiliar roads. The host should therefore accompany him for a certain distance to ensure he is headed in the right direction. On the other hand, the Kli Yakar offers an explanation based on the psychology of who may pose a threat to the guest. Typically, criminals target individuals with limited social connections, since they are often alone and there are few repercussions for harming them. Thus, if a host escorts his guest, the bandits will see that this person has friends and people who care about his wellbeing, which will deter them from approaching and lead them to seek out an easier target.

Does This Mitzvah Still Apply?

As we previously noted, both the Tur and the Shulchan Aruch make no mention of this obligation. The Rema, though, in his Darchei Moshe (C.M. 426:1), does reference the obligation, while stating that nowadays, a talmid is not obligated to escort his rebbi a full parsah, since we assume that the rebbi is mochel on (i.e. is willing to forego) his kavod, and he can either walk him to the city limits, or even just four amos. The Sema (427:11) cites the Rambam’s description of the mitzvah to escort guests and cites the Darchei Moshe’s comment as the practical halacha which still obligates us to escort our guests.

However, many other poskim present arguments to advance the thesis that the mitzvah no longer technically applies. Be’er Sheva (Sotah 46b) suggests that nowadays (i.e., in his time) the roads are so dangerous that escorting one’s guest is dangerous for the host, and thus the host is exempt since he is not obligated to sacrifice his own safety to protect his guest. On the other hand, the Aruch HaShulchan (C.M. 426:2) writes just the opposite, that since nowadays (in his time) the roads are not dangerous, and people often travel in a carriage, there is little reason to escort a guest more than the minimum amount. Similarly, the Chafetz Chaim (Ahavas Chesed 3:1) writes that since nowadays the streets are clearly marked, the obligation to escort a guest is not as significant, and a shorter distance is sufficient.

Similarly, the Emek Beracha records that the Chazon Ish told him that the main reason for a levayah is to make sure that the guest will not have to travel on the roads alone. However, nowadays, the streets are generally very well populated and thus the mitzvah doesn’t serve the same function as it once did. Obviously, in a situation in which the guest requires an actual escort to help him find his way or keep him safe, the full obligation certainly applies. Nevertheless, Rav Asher Weiss concludes that even if often none of the reasons apply, one should still escort his guest at least four amos, as a partial fulfillment of the mitzvah and as a segulah that the guest should safely reach his destination.

By Rabbi Dr. Yaakov Abramovitz

What is the joy of Sukkos all about?

When Bnei Yisrael traveled through the desert, Hashem provided three miraculous gifts to sustain them: manna descended from heaven, fresh water flowed from Miriam’s well, and the ananei ha’kavod – the Clouds of Glory – enveloped the nation (Ta’anis 9a). At first glance, it would seem that the first two miracles were the most important. Without food and water, the Jewish people never could have survived forty years in the wilderness. Yet no holiday commemorates those indispensable gifts. Instead, Sukkos celebrates the ananei ha’kavod (Sukkah 11b).

That is surprising because the clouds hardly seem essential at all. The Jewish people could have survived the desert inside their own booths – literal “sukkos.” In fact, Chazal emphasize that the true benefit of the clouds was not protection, but comfort. They leveled the roads, laundered clothing, and spared the nation the blisters and hardships of desert travel (Rashi to Bamidbar 10:34 and Devarim 8:4). It is this “spa treatment” that we commemorate each year!

Doesn’t that seem backward? Shouldn’t we be thanking Hashem more for the necessities than for the luxuries? The Mabit (Rabbi Moshe ben Yosef Trani zt”l, d. 1585) in Beis Elokim (Sha’ar HaYesodos 37) offers a beautiful explanation. In a sense, Hashem “had to” provide food and water. After bringing the Jewish people into the middle of a barren wilderness, He could hardly leave them without the basic necessities for survival. The Clouds of Glory, however, were entirely different. Hashem didn’t have to smooth the roads, clean our clothes, or make our journey more comfortable. Those were gifts that went above and beyond what was necessary. Through them, Hashem demonstrated not only His responsibility toward the Jewish people, but His deep love for us.

Every healthy relationship includes obligations.

Parents provide for their children. Employers pay their employees.

Spouses fulfill countless responsibilities toward one another. Those duties sustain a relationship.

What transforms it into something deeper are the thoughtful gestures that no one was required to do – the small acts that communicate, “I care about your comfort and happiness.” The same is true in our relationship with Hashem.

Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur focus on obligation. We recognize Hashem’s sovereignty and seek another year of life because we depend upon Him. We stand before Him with awe because these days are essential to our spiritual survival. Sukkos is our opportunity to go above and beyond. We remember that Hashem once cared not only about our survival, but about our comfort as well. In response, we don’t merely fulfill another obligation; we celebrate with unrestrained joy. We reciprocate Hashem’s extraordinary love with an extraordinary expression of our own.

If it seems over-the-top to devote an entire holiday to the ananei ha’kavod, it is because we are responding in kind to the One Who went over-the-top in showering us with His love in the desert.

By Rabbi Joey Haber

Sukkot is called Z’man Simchateinu – “the time of our joy,” and indeed, the dominant theme of this holiday is simchah – joy. In the times of the Bet Ha’mikdash, a festive celebration called the Simchat Beit Hashoeva was held each night of Sukkot in the courtyard of the Bet Ha’mikdash with music and dancing. Today, Simchat Beit Hashoeva celebrations are held in many communities during Sukkot to commemorate the festivities in the Bet Ha’mikdash.

There is a certain irony in the fact that specifically on this Z’man Simchateinu, we are commanded to leave our comfortable homes and reside in a sukkah. The sukkah is a crude, temporary structure, and it is often cramped, chilly, and at times damp. How are these uncomfortable living quarters conducive to the experience of simchah?

The answer might be that this is precisely the point – to teach us that simchah does not depend on perfect circumstances. If we cannot experience joy under less-than-ideal conditions, then we will never experience simchah, because life is hardly ever ideal. And so specifically on Z’man Simchateinu, on the holiday of the greatest joy, we leave our homes and reside in the sukkah. In the first pasuk of Tehillim, King David warns us about Moshav Leitzim – “the company of scoffers.” The Leitzim – scoffers – are exceedingly dangerous. They can destroy everything, and they can do it very quickly. These are the people who sit around the Shabbat table criticizing, mocking and ridiculing. It’s usually the Rabbi, or the entire shul, or the school… They find fault in something, and then paint the whole thing as bad, igniting a flame of negativity that can spread like wildfire. Leitzanut – mockery – is so destructive, and it is oh so easy. If I wanted to, I could in a split-second ruin the reputation of any rabbi, lay leader or institution in our community – including myself. I could find more than a couple of mistakes I made and then start talking about them to people to make myself look bad. And I could do this about anyone and anything. No person is perfect, and no institution is perfect. There is always what to complain about – and so many people love complaining, focusing on the flaws and making something or someone good look very bad.

The scoffers appear to enjoy doing this, but, as the Sukkot celebration teaches us, joy is achieved by doing just the opposite. If we always focus on what’s imperfect, we will be very unhappy. A happy life is a life when we can enjoy the sukkah, when we feel content and happy even with things that aren’t perfect.

A well-known story is told about a man who approached his Rabbi in anguish, asking him to speak to his son, who was going to marry a non-Jewish girl. Nothing the father said could convince the boy to change his mind, so he wanted the Rabbi to try.

After meeting with the young man for an hour, the Rabbi soberly reported to the father that there was nothing he could do. “Sorry, but you made me useless,” the Rabbi said. “You would sit around the table every Shabbat complaining about me, making fun of my speeches and the way I ran the shul. Your son has no respect for me.”

This is what negativity does. When we always focus on what’s wrong, instead of appreciating and praising what’s right, we make everything look miserable – and our children, understandably, are not going to want to have any part of it.

Sukkot teaches us to find joy and satisfaction even in the imperfect, to direct our attention to all that is good about life and about the people around us, so we can live with genuine happiness under all circumstances and thereby spread joy instead of negativity.

By Rabbi Moshe Meir Weiss

We all know that the Sukkah covering, called schach, commemorates the “Ananei HaKavod,” the Clouds of Glory that sheltered and protected our ancestors during the forty miraculous years we spent wandering in the desert after the Exodus from Egypt. This stupendous miracle was in the merit of Aharon HaKohen. The reason why it was specifically Aharon who generated this amazing protection for the Bnei Yisroel lies in the fact that Aharon was the great man of peace. As the Mishna teaches us in Pirkei Avos, “We should be from the disciples of Aharon, to love peace and pursue peace.” And because of this, it was through him that we merited the Sukkas Shelomecha, the Booths of Peace.

The Chofetz Chaim teaches us that we should be especially careful not to get angry in the environs of the Sukkah. This is not simply because it would be grossly inappropriate to lose our temper in the presence of the Holy Ushpizin. Nor is it simply because it would be an act of brazen chutzpah to fly-off the handle under the schach which symbolizes the Tzeila Deimenusa, the Zohar’s terminology for the presence of the Shechinah. It is also because getting angry in the Sukkah is the antithesis of the message of the schach, which is a message of peace, harmony, and tranquility. When Hashem was about to create Man, He exclaimed, “Na’ase Adam – Let us make Man.” Rashi explains that He was conferring with the angels, teaching us that it should not be above us to take counsel from an inferior. However, the father of Chassidus, the great Baal Shem Tov, zt”l, zy”a, gives a novel explanation to Hashem’s statement, “Na’ase Adam.” He explains that Hashem was talking to Man himself, saying to him, “Together, let us make Man.” For Hashem gave us, the human, an animal-like body that has almost constant physical and materialistic cravings. In this shell, He infused a holy neshamah. Then, He gave us the great charge to make out of that human animal an Adam, a mentch. As we say in our Kiddush, “Asher borah Elokim la’asos,” that Hashem created, and it is our job to develop the Creation further. The Gemara also elaborates on this expectation when it teaches us that if we live properly, it is “K’ilu na’ase shutaf l’haKodosh Boruch Hu b’ma’asei Bereishis – We become a partner with Hashem in the very Creation.”

By doing mitzvos, we make a holy Adam out of the humanoid. The Netziv, zt”l, zy”a, elaborates that the rarified term ‘Adam’ is closely related to the term adameh, which means ‘to be like.’ Thus, Adam points to the charge of man to be “adameh l’Elyon,” like the One Above. Thus, our mission in life is to rise above needs of self-gratification and sensual pleasures and become like Hashem.

One of the great character traits we know about Hashem is that He is “Oseh shalom bim’romav – He makes peace in the Heavens.” Hashem is described as the Great Peacemaker. Therefore, throughout our stay on earth it behooves us to pursue peace in every area of our lives, whether at home with our spouse and children, with our in-laws, at work with our co-workers, in shul, with our colleagues, and on the block with our neighbors.

Let’s take the message of the Sukkah and the message of Aharon HaKohen and rise above pettiness to become the Likeness of our Creator, going the extra mile to find peaceful solutions. Let’s learn how to look away more often, to sharpen our skills at compromise and, as we grow older, let’s become mellower with age. Let’s try to adopt a posture of tolerance and not demand perfection from others. Rather, let’s wisely be accepting of others, even with their obvious faults and eccentricities. Not only is this the recipe to become beloved by our fellow men, it also assures us that Hashem will treat us likewise, with tolerance and with forbearance, and He will look away from our occasional misdeeds and follies.

It is no wonder that Succos is known as Zman Simchaseinu, the Time of Happiness. When there is peace, there is happiness. It’s also no wonder that while we never invite the Holy Ushpizin into our homes, we invite them daily into our Sukkah for, when we create a rarified chamber of peacefulness and tranquility, our great ancestors feel comfortable to enter. It is similarly no wonder that the Shechinah abounds in the Sukkah for, as the Gemara teaches us in the case of a husband and wife, if there is peace between them, there is the Divine Presence in the midst. So too, the Sukkah, which is an airlock of harmony, is a fitting domicile for the Divine Presence. May it be the will of Hashem that our Sukkah brings home the important and challenging message of peace to all of our family members, teaching siblings not to fight with one another, reminding husbands and wives how very vital it is for them to strive to work out their differences, and urging all of us to bury the hatchet with those we haven’t been getting along with. In that zchus, may Hashem bless us all with a very healthy happy, and wonderful New Year.

By Rabbi Yissocher Frand

The Torah reading on Simchas Torah contains the well-known pasuk: “The Torah was commanded to us by Moshe, a Morasha [inheritance] to the Congregation of Yaakov.” [Devorim 33:4] There is an interesting teaching in the Talmud Yerushalmi: Everywhere we find the word morasha, it connotes a weakening of the idea of inheritance (lashon deeha) [Bava Basra 8:2].

Morasha is a peculiar word. It is not easy to translate. It is significantly different than the word yerusha [inheritance]. The connotation is that one has less ownership in an object that has come to him as a “morasha” than he does in an item that comes to him as a “yerusha.” The Talmud Yerushalmi is not referring to the source in our pasuk in Zos HaBracha but rather to a pasuk in Parshas VaEra: “And I will give it (referring to the Land of Israel) to you as a morasha.” [Shemos 6:8] The Yerushalmi points out that the people who were given this promise never made it to the Land of Israel. Virtually the entire generation who left Egypt died out in the Wilderness. How then can the Torah make the statement that it will be given to them as a morasha? The Yerushalmi thus cites this as proof for the difference in nuance between yerusha and morasha.

Had the Torah promised Eretz Yisrael to those who left Egypt as a yerusha, it would have belonged to them with no ifs, ands, or buts. However, the Torah used the weaker form —morasha, meaning that it will not necessarily be yours. In truth, it never became theirs. It only became theirs to the extent that they gave it to their children. This in fact is the major connotation of the word morasha. The word implies “it is yours – sometimes literally and sometimes only to the extent that you pass it on to your children without ever having taken possession.”

The Yerushalmi then questions this explanation by citing our pasuk regarding the Torah being a “morasha for the Congregation of Yaakov.” The Yerushalmi answers that in fact this translation of ‘morasha’ applies to Torah as well!

Torah is NOT a yerusha. Just because my father had the Torah does not mean that I will have the Torah. Sometimes a person only has the Torah as a ‘morasha’. This means that if a person sweats over Torah and makes the effort to understand Torah and puts in the hours required to master Torah, then Torah actually becomes his. But there is no guarantee. Torah is not a no-strings-attached inheritance (yerusha). Without the sweat and the hours, Torah will only be something that the person can potentially pass on to the next generation (morasha).

Chazal teach a tradition based on the pasuk, “This Torah will not depart from your mouth or the mouths of you children or the mouths of your grandchildren forever” [Yehoshua 1:8]: If three generations are committed to learning Torah, then the Torah will never leave that person’s family. The Talmud [Bava Metzia 85a] summarizes this idea with the expression “The Torah returns to its host” (Torah chozeres al achsania shelah).

Someone once asked the Chofetz Chaim the very obvious and pointed question that we know people who descend from many generations of Torah scholars who themselves are ignorant of Torah. Unfortunately, we see millions of Jews that fit into this category. There are families that bear the name of prestigious Gedolim, who today may not even know what an Aleph looks like. What then does it mean “Torah chozeres al achsania shelah”?

The Chofetz Chaim explained that the Gemara’s analogy is very precise. The Torah is like a guest seeking its host’s home. Sometimes a guest knocks on one’s door. If no one answers the door, the guest will not come in. “Torah chozeres al achsania shelah” means that if Torah has been in a family for three generations, the Torah will come “knocking on that family’s door” in future generations. But still, the younger generation must open the door for the guest. The guest must still be invited in by each new generation.

Unfortunately, this does occur. There is knocking. There are opportunities. But the door does not get opened. Torah is not a yerusha. It is only a morasha. The difference is that the former is automatic, while the latter requires effort. If a person does not make the effort, his relationship to Torah might only be to the extent that he will pass it on to subsequent generations.

By Rabbi Elimelech Biderman

Everyone knows that Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are days of judgment; therefore, we do teshuvah and daven a lot on them.

The Kabbalah sefarim reveal that Hoshana Rabbah is also a day of judgment. But since Shas and poskim hardly mention the judgment on Hoshana Rabbah, most people weren’t aware of this aspect of the day.

Reb Shlomo Zalman Auerbach zt’l explained that in the early generations, the fear of judgment was so great that if people knew that Hoshana Rabbah was a day of judgment, it would ruin their simchas yom tov. Therefore, the judgment was concealed from them so they could perform the mitzvah of Vesamachta Bechagecha, and it was only discussed in kabbalah sefarim. In later generations, the fear isn’t as intense in people’s hearts as it used to be, and therefore, more sefarim revealed that a tremendous judgment transpires on Hoshana Rabbah. What will happen in the year is largely dependent on this day.

Reb Shlomo Zalman explains that one aspect of the awesome judgment of Hoshana Rabbah was revealed to the average man. The Mishnah states, “Succos we are judged for rain,” and the Levush writes, “Therefore, people light more candles in the beis medresh on Hoshana Rabbah, similar to Yom Kippur because it is the final day of judgment for rain.” It was always known that Hoshana Rabbah was a day of judgment for rain. In later generations, it became known that it is also a day of judgment for all areas of life.

Reb Shlomo Zalman adds that in the past, rain meant life. If it didn’t rain, people would die from thirst. Today, things have changed because governments maintain water reservoirs, and water can be transported if needed. [The Chazon Ish ruled that we don’t fast for rain anymore because a lack of rain isn’t as tragic as it used to be.] Therefore, years ago, it was sufficient for people to know that they were being judged for rain, and this would arouse them to teshuvah, tefillah, and tzedakah. Today, that isn’t enough. Therefore, the sefarim revealed more details of the awesome judgment of this day. The Halichos Shlomo (Succos, p.241) brings down Reb Shlomo Zalman Auerbach’s customs on this day. “From the beginning of the night, Reb Shlomo Zalman had immense fear, similar to the fear of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. From nightfall, he spent most hours of the night saying Tehillim with a lot of kavanah. Also in his elder years, he would get out of bed several times on this night to say Tehillim. He didn’t appreciate it when people visited him on that night. When someone came, he would speak with him very briefly, and as soon as the conversation was over, he returned to his Tehillim.”

Two yungerleit were schmoozing on Hoshana Rabbah night in the beis medresh of Reb Avraham Elimelech of Karlin zt’l. The rebbe rebuked them, “I am certain you have something very important to discuss because otherwise you wouldn’t discuss it tonight. However, you would have been better off had you discussed these matters during Kol Nidrei than to speak on this holy night.”