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.”

By Rabbi Moshe Elefant

What foods should one eat at the seuda ha’mafsekes (last meal) on erev Yom Kippur?

Shulchan Aruch (Orach Chaim 608:4) writes that on erev Yom Kippur, one should eat light foods that are easily digestible, so one will be able to daven on Yom Kippur with proper concentration. There is a common custom to dip challah in honey. Mishnah Berurah (608:16-18) writes that one should not overeat. It is proper to serve chicken, but red meat, and especially fatty meat, should be avoided. Wine and other intoxicating beverages should not be served. One should avoid foods that are overly spicy or vinegary. Sesame should be avoided, since it can cause reflux. Based on the Tur (Orach Chaim 604), some have a minhag to eat fish on erev Yom Kippur. However Kitzur Shulchan Aruch (131:12) writes that it should not be served at the seuda ha’mafsekes, but rather should be eaten earlier in the day.

My children will be eating sandwiches on Yom Kippur. How should they wash netilas yadayim?

Although regarding washing in the morning, Shulchan Aruch writes that one should only wash until the knuckles, poskim point out that if one must eat bread on Yom Kippur, one should wash the entire hand including the palm, the same way that they would the rest of the year (Levushei Mordechai quoted by Shevet HaLevi 8:139 and many other poskim). In this regard, washing for bread is like the requirement of Kohanim to wash before reciting Birkas Kohanim. The Mishnah Berurah (613:7) writes that Kohanim on Yom Kippur must wash their entire hand before Birkas Kohanim. In all these cases, there is no violation of washing hands, since the intent is not for enjoyment.

Lehoros Nosson (2:42) explains the difference between washing for bread and washing in the morning. Although in both cases throughout the year, lechatchila (in the first instance) one should wash the entire hand and bedi’eved (after the fact), it is enough if one washed up until and including the knuckles, there is still an important difference between them. Regarding washing for bread, many Rishonim hold that that this is an absolute requirement, and although we are lenient if it was not done, Shulchan Aruch (OC 161:4) writes that one should be careful to wash the entire hand. However, Shulchan Aruch makes no mention of washing the entire hand to remove ru’ach ra’ah. This was only introduced by later poskim, such as the Magen Avrohom (4:7). Therefore, on Yom Kippur we do not follow this added stringency, since at the same time it would be a leniency to wash beyond the knuckles.

May a person who is ill eat or drink on Yom Kippur?

If a person is a choleh sheyesh bo sakanah (suffering from a life-threatening illness), it is forbidden to fast. Rather, it is a mitzvah for such an individual to eat on Yom Kippur. Nonetheless, halacha stipulates that when possible, the breaking of the fast should be minimized by eating or drinking less than the shiur (amount) for which a healthy individual would be liable for the Divine punishment of kares. In practice, when feasible, one who is ill should eat less than the volume of a large date and drink less than a cheek full. Both of these volumes are somewhere between 1 to 1 1⁄4 fluid ounces.

The Shulchan Aruch states that when a time span of kedai achilas pas has elapsed, the same amounts can be eaten and drunk again. There are a wide range of opinions for the length of this time span, ranging from 2-9 minutes. It is recommended that the reader consult their local rabbi.

If these amounts do not alleviate the life-threatening situation, the person who is ill may eat and drink in a normal manner. Once the danger to one’s health has passed, continued eating and drinking should be limited to the shiur described above. (Shulchan Aruch 618-7 and 8 and Beur Halacha s.v. ve’im)

By Rabbi Eli Mansour

The Gemara (Yoma 87a) tells that the great sage Rav was once insulted by the local butcher. Over the next several months, Rav waited for the butcher to apologize, but he never did.

Finally, on Erev Yom Kippur, Rav decided to go and stand right outside the butcher shop so the butcher would see him. He hoped that if he would stand there and make it very easy and convenient for the butcher to request forgiveness, he would.

The butcher saw Rav standing outside his shop, and he shouted angrily, “I have nothing to say to you!” Not only did he refuse to ask forgiveness, he doubled down, insisting that he had nothing to apologize for.

At that moment, a bone from the animal the butcher was carving darted from the counter into his neck, killing him.

The Rabbis of Mussar explain that although the butcher had offended Rav many months earlier, he was punished only now because he squandered the opportunity to apologize and make amends. All people make mistakes, and it is not easy to admit we were wrong and initiate a process of reconciliation. But what’s inexcusable is avoiding reconciliation when the opportunity comes right to our doorstep. The butcher was wrong to offend Rav, and he was wrong for not going to request forgiveness – but what sealed his fate was failing to approach Rav when Rav made himself available.

This story sheds light on a pronouncement by the prophet Yeshayahu about the Aseret Yemeh Teshuba – the ten-day period from Rosh Hashanah through Yom Kippur.

Yeshayahu (55:6) turns to the people and exclaims, “Dirshu Hashem Be’himase’o, Kera’uhu Bi’hyoto Karob” – “Seek out G-d when He is accessible, call upon Him when He is near.” Of course, G-d is always “accessible,” and He is always “near.” In all seasons, at all times of year, and at any time of day, in any circumstance, we can turn to Hashem for help, we can ask Him for forgiveness, and we can ask for whatever it is we need. However, the Gemara (Rosh Hashanah 18a) explains, during the Aseret Yemeh Teshuba, Hashem is especially close and is especially receptive to our sincere prayers. During this period, the prayers recited by an individual have the same power as prayers recited together with a Minyan during the rest of the year.We can only imagine how powerful congregational prayer is during the Aseret Yemeh Teshuba! Indeed, Rav Chaim Brim of Jerusalem (1922-2002) would say that spiritual achievements which normally take weeks to attain can be reached in just a few moments during the Aseret Yemeh Teshuba. This is a special time, when our prayers and our efforts to repent and improve are particularly effective, many times more than at other times of the year. At first glance, it seems that Yeshayahu is encouraging us and advising us by calling upon us to turn to Hashem during this period of Aseret Yemeh Teshuba. As Hashem is close, it is recommended that we seize this opportunity for prayer and repentance. But in light of the Gemara’s story about Rav and the butcher, we might conclude that Yeshayahu isn’t just giving advice – he’s issuing a stern warning. If Hashem is close, then we must initiate a process of “reconciliation,” a process of Teshuba. It’s not just a good idea – it’s an obligation.

We are flawed human beings, and so it is understandable that we will make mistakes.We are not expected to be perfect. And it is understandable that we will find it difficult to acknowledge our mistakes, to admit wrongdoing, to confess that we’ve acted improperly and have made bad choices. This is embarrassing and uncomfortable. And change is always challenging. But even if we could be excused the rest of the year for not making an effort to improve and ask Hashem for forgiveness, we have no excuse during this week, when Hashem specifically comes to us and invites us back. During the Aseret Yemeh Teshuba, Hashem is right here next to us with His arms open. He is ready to forgive us as long as we take the first step by admitting we were wrong and committing to try harder. If we don’t seize this opportunity, this period when Teshuba is especially accessible, then we have no more excuses.

Let’s ensure not to make the butcher’s mistake. Let’s take full advantage of this special opportunity and sincerely turn to Hashem in heartfelt prayer and with a firm resolve to improve, to correct our mistakes, and to enhance our relationship with our Father in heaven.

By Chaya Sora Jungreis-Gertzulin

Yom Kippur. As children, we had the z’chus to daven with Zeide and Mama, our grandparents z”l.

Kol Nidrei night. Year after year, Zeide would speak to the members of his shul, always delivering the same message. “Heint bei-nacht is Yom Kippur”, Tonight is Yom Kippur. Zeide would continue: “There are people here who don’t speak to their fathers, their mothers, their in-laws. Brothers and sisters who don’t speak to one another. Neighbors who can’t look each other in the eye, can’t even say hello. It’s time to make shalom. With sholom, our tefillos will reach shomayim, the heavens above.”

Zeide would speak about having a forgiving heart, of seeing only the good in one another. With a quivering voice and tears in his eyes, Zeide would plead to his listeners, begging them to rid their hearts of all anger and ill feeling. To live a life of chesed, lovingkindness, compassion and understanding.

Prior to Kol Nidrei, there is a custom to say Tefilla Zakkah, a prayer of introspection and remorse. In this tefilla, we acknowledge that “For a sin between man and his friend, Yom Kippur does not atone until one appeases his friend.” Therefore, we beseech HaShem “… to allow me to find favor, kindness and mercy in Your eyes and in the eyes of all people. I extend complete forgiveness to everyone who has sinned against me. And just as I forgive everyone, so may You grant me favor in every person’s eyes, so that he will grant me complete forgiveness.”

As I think of these words, Zeide’s Kol Nidrei night message resonates in my mind. Is there anyone closer to us than our own family and friends that we should have in mind when reciting this prayer? In the z’chus of ridding ourselves of grudges against others, HaShem will warm the hearts of others to be forgiving of us, and bring peace and unity between people.

The days before Yom Kippur are busy ones. We say additional tefillos, do extra mitzvos and acts of chesed. During these days, many have the custom to visit kivrei tzadikim, the burial place of great, righteous people. When davening at the kever of a tzadik, we ask HaShem to look at us with compassion, and have mercy upon us, in the merit of the righteous who lie there.

Rabbi Dov Ber of Lubavitch, known as the mittele Rebbe, teaches that a person’s prayer in a holy place is more readily accepted. It is in this spirit that many make the long trip to Monsey to daven at the burial place of the Ribnitzer Rebbe, Rabbi Chaim Zanvil Abramowitz zt”l (1893-1995). He was renowned for his holiness, his fearless service of Hashem, and for the many incredible miracles he brought about. Thousands sought out his guidance and brachos during his lifetime.

Zeide taught us that Yom Kippur is not only about asking Hashem for forgiveness; it is about learning to forgive others. Last year, I heard a story that brought that same lesson to life in a personal way. A rabbi from my community spoke before Kol Nidrei about his experience on a visit to the kever of the Ribnitzer. Upon his arrival, he found himself among hundreds who were davening at the kever that day. Not only were there daveners there, but there were also many collectors, people asking for tzedaka, each with their own story and cause. To each one, the rabbi gave several dollars. Each one expressed his thanks. But there was one who was persistent. One who said he needs some more. And so, the rabbi gave him a few more dollars.

After the rabbi finished saying Tehillim and his personal tefillos, that same collector approached him once again. He was relentless. “Rabbi, you surely have more money to give me.” The rabbi explained that he had exhausted all the tzedaka money he brought with him. As he made his way back to the car, he had company. The collector was following him. When they reached the car, he made one last pitch. “Maybe you have some more tzedaka money in the car?”

Totally exhausted from a long day, the rabbi had enough. He said that he already gave, said goodbye, and drove off. That night, the rabbi sat down to prepare his Kol Nidrei message. But the words did not come. The image of the collector stood before his eyes. His words kept on playing in the rabbi’s mind. “Maybe you have some more tzedaka money in the car?”

The rabbi was troubled. The theme of his Kol Nidrei message was how we ask HaShem to look away from our wrongdoings, and give us even greater bracha than what we are deserving. We acknowledge our shortcomings, but that doesn’t prevent us from asking for more and more. Good health, more parnassah, nachas, and so much more. How could he speak about showing extra kindness and compassion, about having understanding and looking away, when he himself shut the door and drove off? Do we not learn that HaShem looks at us as we look towards others? If we want HaShem to go the extra mile for us, shouldn’t we be doing the same for others? The next day, the rabbi knew what he had to do. To practice the very message he intended to preach. And so, he literally went the extra mile, and made the return trip to Monsey. For a busy rabbi before Yom Kippur, not a simple task. Once again, there were hundreds at the kever. Once again, he distributed tzedaka to the collectors. And once again, the collector who asked him for more and more was amongst them. This time, the rabbi approached him first. He wished him a G’mar Chasima Tova, and handed him an envelope with extra tzedaka money. Sometimes going the extra mile means giving a little more. Sometimes it means forgiving someone who has tested our patience. And sometimes it means literally getting back into the car and driving back to Monsey.

Yom Kippur is approaching. The book is open, judgment waiting to be sealed. If we want HaShem to give us more than we deserve, we must do the same for others, without being judgmental of what we think they may deserve.

A story is told of Rav Yisroel Salanter (1810-1887). Once, on a late night, through a lit window, he noticed a shoemaker working by candlelight. Rav Salanter had to ask the shoemaker why he was working so late. The shoemaker replied, “As long as the light burns, there is time to mend, to fix”. What a life lesson. As long as we can, as long as our light is burning, there is still time l’takein, to mend and fix. To commit to positive change. We are approaching Yom Hadin. Let’s use our light, our inner strength, to better ourselves. Let’s give forgiveness and seek forgiveness. To go above and beyond with understanding and compassion for others. And in that z’chus, may we all be sealed for a good new year.

By Rabbi YY Jacobson

The Last Wish

On Rosh Hashanah night, the Kazaks captured the rabbi, the cantor, and the president of the synagogue, and granted them a final wish before they would be put to death. The Rabbi: All year round I prepare for my Rosh Hashanah sermon. You can’t kill me before you let me present this sermon and get it out of my system.

“OK,” proclaimed the Kazaks. “We will allow you to give the sermon.” They turned to the cantor. “How about you? What is your final wish?”

“For 364 days a year, I prepare for my cantorial presentation on the High Holidays. For this year I composed many new brilliant and extraordinary compositions. You have to let me sing them before you kill me.” “Granted,” said the Kazaks. “And you,” they said, turning to the president, “what is your final wish?”

“Kill me first,” he said.

Sermons and Melodies

It’s been a longstanding tradition among Jewish communities the world over, to employ for the High Holiday services cantors, often accompanied by choirs, to entertain, engage, and inspire the multitudes of crowds flocking to synagogues during the three days of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. In many a congregation, the cantor embodies the primary focus of the High Holiday experience. As in a concert or opera, the cantor’s choice of melodies, his cantorial skills, and manipulation of sounds and pitches constitute the zenith of the services. Especially if the musical presentation is coupled with a rabbi who knows how to tell a good joke or bring a tear to the eye, it is a hands-down success story.

“Spit not in the well from which you drink,” suggests the Talmud. I should be the last one to find fault with this phenomenon, since I, too, serve as a pontificator. Yet a moving thought from the great master the Baal Shem Tov concerning this “cantor” and “rabbi” phenomenon may be worthwhile for all synagogues and all of us to reflect upon.

An Angry Lion

The Baal Shem Tov, one of the most profound thinkers in the history of Jewish spirituality (1698-1760), once shared this following allegorical story.

Once upon a time, says the Baal Shem Tov, the lion grew furious with all of the other jungle animals. Since the lion is “the king of animal life,” and is most powerful and dominant, his ire evoked deep fright in the hearts of the other animals.

“What should we do?” murmured all the animals at an emergency meeting. “If the lion lets out his anger, we are all done.” “No worries,” came the voice of the fox, known as the wiliest of animals. “In the reservoirs of my brain are stored 300 stories, anecdotes, and vignettes. When I present them to the lion, his mood will be transformed.”

A wave of joy rushed through all the animals as they embarked on a march toward the lion’s home in the jungle, where the fox would placate him and restore the friendly relationship between the lion and his subjects.

The Fox Forgets

During the journey through the jungle pathways, the fox suddenly turns to one of his animal friends and says, “You know, I forgot 100 of my entertaining stories.” Rumors of the fox’s lapse of memory spread immediately. Many animals were overtaken by profound trepidation but soon came the calming voice of Mr. Bear. “No worries,” he said. “Two hundred vignettes of a brilliant fox are more than enough to get that arrogant lion rolling in laughter and delight.

“They will suffice to do the job,” agreed Mr. Wolf.

A little while later, as the extraordinarily large entourage of animals was nearing the lion, Mr. Fox suddenly turned to another colleague. “I have forgotten another 100 of my anecdotes,” lamented the fox. “They simply slipped my mind.”

The animals’ fear became stronger, but soon enough came the reassuring voice of Mr. Deer.

“No worries,” he proclaimed, “One hundred fox stories will suffice to capture the imagination of our simple king.” “Yes, 100 jokes will assuage the lion,” agreed Mr. Tiger.

A few moments later, all of the hundreds of thousands of animals were at the lion’s den. The lion rose to his full might and glory, casting a fierce gaze at all of his subjects, sending a shiver through their veins.

The Moment of Encounter

As the moment of truth arrived, all of the animals looked up with beseeching eyes to their bright representative the fox, to approach the lion and accomplish the great mission of reconciliation.

At that very moment, the fox turned to the animals and said, “I am sorry, but I forgot my last 100 stories. I have nothing left to say to the king.”

The animals went into hysteria. “You are a vicious liar,” cried they cried. “You deceived us completely. What are we to do now?” “My job,” responded the fox calmly, “was to persuade you to take the journey from your own nests to the lion’s den. I have accomplished my mission. You are here. Now, let each and every single one of you discover his own voice and rehabilitate his own personal relationship with the king.”

Lacking a Personal Relationship

This story, concluded the Baal Shem Tov, illustrates a common problem in institutionalized religion. We come to synagogue on Rosh Hashanah or Yom Kippur, or any other time of the year, and we rely on the “foxes” — the cantors and the rabbis — to serve as our representative to the King of Kings.

“The rabbi’s sermon today was unbelievable,” we often proclaim after services. “He is awesome.” Or, “That cantor? His vibrato just melted my soul.” These clergy all too often become the “foxes” who know how to get the job done for us.

Yet, sooner or later, we come to realize that the foxes, with all due respect, don’t really have what it takes to address the king on behalf of you and me. Each of us must discover his or her own inner voice and inner passion and spirit and speak to G-d with a distinct and unique.

Cantors and rabbis during the High Holidays (and the rest of the year) ought to view themselves as the Baal Shem Tov’s foxes: Their function is to persuade and inspire people to leave their self-contained domains and embark on a journey toward something far deeper and more real. But each and every one of us must ultimately enter the space of G-d alone.

So this Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur don’t rely on any foxes. Speak to G-d directly. With your own words, with your own soul. Heart to heart, from your truest place to His truest place.

Shanah Tovah!

By Rabbi Efrem Goldberg

We are living in a time of more words than ever before. Think about how many words we encounter and produce in a single day. Texts, WhatsApps, emails, posts, comments, voice notes, captions, reactions. And now with AI, we can generate paragraphs, articles, responses, even entire conversations almost instantly. We have never had more words available to us, and we have never been able to produce them with less effort. The danger is that when words become so easy to produce, they begin to feel cheap. We type something and hit send without fully thinking. We often react and respond before reflecting. We sometimes write things about people we would never say to their face.

Yom Kippur comes along and reminds us that words aren’t cheap at all. They are enormously consequential and indeed create worlds. Usually, we are encouraged to live by the dictum of Chazal in Pirkei Avos, אמור הרבה ועשה מעט, say little and do much. On Yom Kippur, strangely, we reverse it. We do very little and say an enormous amount. We aren’t out there taking action to demonstrate our transformation. We are in Shul davening and davening and davening, talking about our regret, confessing our mistakes, describing who we have been and who we want to become.

And remarkably, so much of what we confess is about speech itself. In Ashamnu and in Al Cheit, we confess for what we expressed with our lips, for foolish speech, impure speech, lashon hara, mockery, idle conversation and gossip. So much of what went wrong this past year came from our mouths.

And what is fascinating is that we made mistakes with speech and we fix them with speech. The Torah tells us, אליך קרוב כי this For “,הדבר מאד בפיך ובלבבך לעשותו matter is very close to you, in your mouth and in your heart, to perform it.” The Ramban asks, what is the davar that is so close to us? He explains that the Torah is talking about teshuvah. Transformation isn’t somewhere far away. We don’t need to become different people, move somewhere else, or wait for some dramatic moment of inspiration. It is accessible right now, and it begins בפיך, in your mouth. The path back must begin with saying what happened, admit it, and articulate responsibility. Say what you regret and say what you are going to do about it.

That is why teshuvah requires vidui. The Gemara in Yoma asks, how does a person confess? And the answer begins, אומר, he t’isn It .אנא ה‘ חטאתי עויתי פשעתי :says enough to know we did something wrong. It isn’t even enough to feel badly about it. We have to say it. Indeed, the Shulchan Aruch tells us that even though we already confessed before Yom Kippur, we confess again on Yom Kippur itself, and then again and again throughout the day. The repetition isn’t because we forgot that we already said it. It is because there is something transformative about articulating who we were and who we want to become.

The Navi Hoshea says, דברים עמכם קחו ה אל ושובו‘, take words with you and return to Hashem. Chazal say, ?ישראל יתכפר במה בדברים. With what will the Jewish people achieve atonement? With words. But that sounds almost too easy. Isn’t that exactly what we call lip service? You behaved one way and now you say some words and everything changes?

I think the answer is contained in the Hebrew language itself. דברים means things, while דיבור means speech. The same root describes the words we say and the things that exist. That isn’t coincidental. When we speak, we create things. Dibur creates devarim. Words create realities. A few words can end a friendship or begin one. Words can destroy a reputation, damage a marriage, alienate a child or humiliate someone. But words can also restore confidence, repair a relationship, give someone courage, express gratitude, offer forgiveness or make another person feel seen. We tend to think words describe reality. Torah teaches that words create reality.

That is why Yom Kippur begins in such a strange way. The shul is packed, everyone is wearing white, the sifrei Torah are held at the front, the chazzan begins that haunting melody, and what do we say? Kol Nidrei. All vows, prohibitions, oaths and commitments that we have made should be null and void. That’s our great introduction to the holiest day of the year? The answer is yes, because what is a neder? I can take something completely ordinary and permissible and, with nothing more than words, change its halachic reality. A shtender that was perfectly permissible a moment ago can become forbidden to me because I said so. Nothing physically changed. I didn’t touch it or alter it. My dibur created a davar. We begin the day by reminding ourselves: never underestimate what comes out of your mouth.

Benjamin Zander, the longtime conductor of the Boston Philharmonic Orchestra, tells a story he heard from a woman who survived Auschwitz. She was deported with her little brother. She was fifteen and he was eight. Their parents were gone, they had no idea where they were going, and while they were on the train she looked down and realized that her brother had lost his shoes. Like an older sister frustrated with her little brother, she began yelling at him. Why are you so careless? Why can’t you keep track of your things? Now when we get wherever we are going, I am going to have to find you another pair of shoes.

They arrived at Auschwitz and were separated. She never saw him again. He didn’t survive. Those were the last words she ever said to her eight year old brother. She described that when she was finally liberated and walked out of Auschwitz, she made a pledge to herself: “I will never say anything that couldn’t stand as the last thing I ever say.”

Imagine living that way. Not morbidly, but mindfully. If these were the last words my spouse heard from me today, would I be comfortable with them? If this were my last conversation with a parent, is this how I would want it to end? If this message couldn’t be deleted, unsent, explained away or followed by another message, would I still press send?

We live in a world obsessed with having the last word. We admire the clever comeback, the devastating response, the viral takedown, the line that leaves the other person speechless. Yom Kippur asks us to aspire to something much greater than having the last word. Live so that your words could stand as your last words.

Perhaps that is part of why we say vidui already at Mincha on Erev Yom Kippur, before Yom Kippur has even begun. The Gemara explains that we confess before the seudah hamafsekes because perhaps, G-d forbid, something could happen during the meal and we would never have another opportunity. When it comes to Yom Kippur, we want to make sure that if these were our last words, vidui would be among them. We would have said what needed to be said. Words aren’t just sounds, they are acts of creation. With words we confess and with words we forgive. With words we apologize, encourage, thank and inspire. With words we can tell our spouses we love them, our children that we are proud of them, our parents that we appreciate them, our friends that they matter to us, and Hashem that we desperately want a relationship with Him. Change is much closer than we think. בפיך. It is right there in our mouths. We begin Yom Kippur with Kol Nidrei, confronting words from our past and trying to undo what should never have been said. But perhaps we should leave Yom Kippur with a commitment about the words of our future. Before I criticize, I will ask whether these words will accomplish anything. Before I forward something, I will ask whether it needs to be shared. Before I respond when I am angry, I will give myself the space to choose my words instead of unleashing them. But even more importantly, I won’t wait to say the words that need to be said. I’m sorry. I forgive you. Thank you. I believe in you. I’m proud of you. I love you. How can I help? I was wrong.

We spend so much time regretting words we wish we could take back. Maybe we should spend more time worrying about the words we never got around to saying. The compliment we felt but didn’t give. The gratitude we had but didn’t express. The apology we kept putting off. The encouragement someone desperately needed that we assumed somebody else would provide. The “I love you” we thought was obvious and therefore didn’t need to be said. We don’t know which conversation will be our last, but we do know which conversation is our next. We don’t know how many more opportunities we will have to say what needs to be said, but we know we have this one. Take your words with you and return to Hashem. Take them seriously and use them carefully. Use them to create, to repair, to heal and to bring people closer. That survivor walked out of Auschwitz having learned through unimaginable pain, “I will never say anything that couldn’t stand as the last thing I ever say.” We don’t need to learn that lesson through tragedy, we can learn it from Yom Kippur.

This year, let’s stop worrying so much about having the last word. Let’s make sure the words we say are worthy of being our last.

By Rabbi Shay Tahan

As we stand in the midst of the Aseret Yemei Teshuvah, it is worthwhile to find out a fundamental question: What exactly is teshuvah?

At first glance, the answer seems obvious: improving our ways and turning away from sin. Yet it is fascinating to discover that there is a significant discussion among the Rishonim and Acharonim concerning the very definition of teshuvah—what it means, what a person must actually do in order to fulfill the mitzvah, and how teshuvah cleanses the spiritual effects of sin.

Let us begin with the word itself. What does teshuvah mean?

Many people understand the word according to its simple translation, “an answer.” But the Tanya explains that the word teshuvah means to return—to return to Hashem. Teshuvah is therefore not merely about correcting a particular sin; it is about returning to our true connection with Hashem.

The Rambam

The most famous formulation of the mitzvah of teshuvah is found in the Rambam, in Hilchot Teshuvah (2:2). The Rambam describes that teshuvah consists of several fundamental components. First, a person must have החטא עזיבת, abandon the sin and remove it from his thoughts and intentions. He must then have חרטה, regret what he has done. He must reach לעתיד קבלה, firmly resolve that he will not return to that sin again. And finally, he must perform וידוי, verbally confess before Hashem and express his regret and his commitment to change.

According to the Rambam teshuvah is not merely feeling bad about the past. It requires a person to leave the sin, regret it, resolve not to return to it, and verbalize his teshuvah through vidui.

But when we look beyond the Rambam, we discover that this is not the only way teshuvah is understood. Other Rishonim and Acharonim place the emphasis on different elements, and some appear to understand the very essence of teshuvah differently.

Sefer HaChinuch

The Sefer HaChinuch as explained by the Minchat Chinuch, understands that the torah’s mitzvah is only vidui, confession. However, in order to perform vidui properly, a person must first do teshuvah. According to his understanding, teshuvah itself consists primarily of regret—חרטה—over the sin. According to this view teshuvah and vidui are not one and the same. Teshuvah is the internal process of regretting the sin, while vidui is a separate mitzvah that requires a person to express that teshuvah verbally before Hashem. Thus, one can do teshuva without vidui.

This is similar to the preparation required for other mitzvot. For example, a person must acquire a lulav before Sukkot in order to be able to perform the mitzvah of lulav. Similarly, a person must first do teshuvah—regret his actions—in order to be able to perform the mitzvah of vidui.

The Minchat Chinuch explains that if a person regrets his sin sincerely in his heart, he has already accomplished the essential act of teshuvah and is considered a baal teshuvah and a Tsadik. However, if he fails to verbalize his regret through vidui, he has not fulfilled the separate mitzvah of vidui.

This is a very different understanding from the Rambam. The Rambam appears to incorporate vidui into the very definition of teshuvah, whereas according to the Sefer HaChinuch teshuvah itself is the inner process of regret, while vidui is the separate mitzvah that follows it.

The Tanya

Another approach is found in the Tanya, in Iggeret HaTeshuvah. There, the Alter Rebbe explains that the essential element of teshuvah is החטא עזיבת—the abandonment of the sin. Once a person sincerely resolves to stop sinning and no longer intends to continue in his wrongdoing, he has already accomplished the fundamental act of teshuvah.

Interestingly, the Tanya does not mention regret or vidui as part of the definition of teshuvah itself. This probably seems to indicate that although regret and vidui are certainly important aspects of the process of teshuvah, they are not what constitutes the essential teshuvah. Rather, they serve to complete, strengthen, and elevate the person’s teshuvah.

According to this approach, teshuvah begins with a decision: I will no longer continue on this path. The moment a person sincerely abandons the sin and resolves to return to the proper path, the essential mitzvah of teshuvah has been accomplished.

This gives us yet another understanding of teshuvah. According to the Sefer HaChinuch, as explained by the Minchat Chinuch, the essence of teshuvah is regret. According to the Tanya, the essence is החטא עזיבת—the actual abandonment of the sin. And according to the Rambam, teshuvah encompasses several elements, including abandoning the sin, regret, resolve for the future, and vidui.

Rabbeinu Yonah

Then we come to the approach of Rabbeinu Yonah in Shaarei Teshuvah. Rabbeinu Yonah presents a remarkable and extensive discussion of teshuvah, outlining twenty different steps and levels through which a person can progress in his journey of repentance.

At first glance, this raises an obvious question. If the Rambam teaches that teshuvah involves several essential components, should we understand Rabbeinu Yonah as listing twenty requirements that a person must fulfill in order to perform the mitzvah of teshuvah? It would seem that this is not the case. Rather, Rabbeinu Yonah appears to be describing the proper path of teshuvah—the different thoughts, practices, and spiritual stages that guide a person toward genuine repentance and ultimately bring him closer to Hashem. The twenty levels are therefore not necessarily twenty separate conditions without which the mitzvah of teshuvah is incomplete. Rather, they are a roadmap for how a person should approach teshuvah and how he can elevate himself throughout the process.

This distinction is important. There is a difference between asking, “What are the minimum requirements for a person to fulfill the mitzvah of teshuvah?” and asking, “What should a person do if he truly wants to become a תשובה בעל and transform himself?” The Rambam may be defining the essential components of the mitzvah, while Rabbeinu Yonah is teaching us how to build a complete and meaningful process of teshuvah. In other words, the twenty levels of Rabbeinu Yonah should not necessarily be viewed as twenty boxes that a person must check before his teshuvah is considered valid. They are guidance for the journey itself—how a person can move from recognizing his wrongdoing, to regretting it, to changing his ways, and ultimately to becoming a different person. And perhaps this is precisely why Rabbeinu Yonah’s Shaarei Teshuvah is so much more than a list of halachic requirements. He is not merely telling us what teshuvah is; he is teaching us how to live the life of a תשובה בעל. Teshuvah: Cleansing or Command?

There is another fundamental point that is worth understanding. The Rishonim explain that teshuvah is not merely a mitzvah that a person is commanded to perform. It is also the means through which a person cleanses his neshamah from the spiritual damage caused by sin.

When a person sins, his soul gets damaged and stained. Teshuvah is the process through which that damage is removed and the person returns to his previous spiritual state. Rabbeinu Yonah develops this idea in Shaarei Teshuvah by comparing teshuvah to washing a garment that has become soiled. Just as a person washes a soiled garment to restore it to its proper state, so too, teshuvah cleanses a person from the spiritual effects of sin. According to this approach, teshuvah is not simply about fulfilling a divine command. A person has a spiritual need to cleanse himself from the effects of his sins, and Hashem gave us the process of teshuvah as the way to accomplish that.

The Tanya, however, presents a fundamentally different perspective.

The Alter Rebbe explains that the essential obligation of teshuvah is the abandonment of sin. The fact that teshuvah cleanses a person’s neshamah is not what defines the mitzvah, nor is it the reason for which the mitzvah was given. Rather we are commanded to do teshuvah, and when we do, Hashem Himself cleansed our neshamah as a result. This distinction is subtle but profound. According to the approach of Rabbeinu Yonah, the cleansing of the neshamah is intrinsic to the very concept of teshuvah. A person has become spiritually soiled through sin, and teshuvah is the process of cleansing and restoring the neshamah.

According to the Tanya, however, we should not define teshuvah as a spiritual cleansing process. Teshuvah is a mitzvah that Hashem commanded us to perform. The cleansing of the neshamah is a result of fulfilling that mitzvah, but it is not the essence or purpose of the mitzvah itself.

This difference gives us an entirely new perspective on teshuvah. It is not only a question of what a person must do to fulfill the mitzvah, but also a question of what teshuvah is actually accomplishing within the person.

Is teshuvah primarily a process of repairing and cleansing the neshamah, or is it fundamentally an act of obedience to Hashem’s command, with the spiritual cleansing coming as a consequence? The answer to this question may help us understand why the Rishonim and Acharonim describe teshuvah in such different ways. According to the Tanya, since the essence of teshuvah is החטא עזיבת—the abandonment of sin—the person’s primary responsibility is to stop sinning and sincerely resolve not to return to his previous ways. The spiritual cleansing of the neshamah is not itself the person’s task; once he fulfills Hashem’s command to abandon the sin, Hashem takes care of the spiritual repair.

According to the Rambam, however, teshuvah is a process of active repair. Hashem therefore gives us the tools necessary to accomplish and ,עזיבת החטא, חרטה, קבלה לעתיד :repair that וידוי. Through these four elements, a person confronts his sin, regrets it, resolves to change, and expresses that transformation through vidui.

By Rabbi Reuven and Shira Boshnack

Dear Rabbi and Shira , Hi. I’m engaged to a great guy. My issue with him is that he seems very indecisive in terms of which career to pursue. After many years of studying, he received his CPA but now wants to go back to school to become a Physical Therapist. I am concerned that he will never be able to settle down and stick to one career. While I know he is very bright, his indecisiveness bothers me. I come from a family of 8 children and there was never enough money to go around. My parents floated from job to job. Growing up, my family shared a three-bedroom apartment. My siblings always wore each other’s hand-me downs, and we ate a lot of pasta for dinner. I always promised myself that when I became an adult my life would be different and that my children would never live with the same insecurities that I had growing up. Although I have been a nurse for the past 6 years, I’m afraid that my salary won’t be enough, and I am petrified that my chasan won’t be able to do his share. -Petrified in Brooklyn

Dear Petrified, It sounds like this point is touching on a key portion of your childhood experiences. You wanted to choose a future which was different from you past, with an assumption of financial security. However, now you are scared that you are going to relive your childhood and be in the same predicament that you had growing up. However, if you carefully compare the situations, you might find several differences which can lower your anxiety. For example; can you distinguish how your situation can be different than the way that you grew up? Did your parents go to college? Complete college? Have master’s degrees? Physical therapists can make an average salary of over $80,000 (according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics Occupational Handbook) and nurses do well too. You also mentioned that you have been a nurse for 6 years; that seems more stable than how you describe your parent’s situation. It could be the fear of your past is clouding the reality of your future.

You never mentioned why your chasan wants to switch careers. Have you talked to your chasan about why he is switching career paths? If not, examine with him what is prompting this change? Why after taking many rigorous exams, would he choose to become a PT? Are the hours different? Is the salary better? Does the job make it easier to create a healthy a work life balance? Have you discussed with him whether his concerns could be present in his new career as well?

If you have discussed your concerns with him, how does he respond to your concerns? He has not made any decisions which are set in stone, and it is important that you both share your fears and concerns with each other.

Other thoughts to consider… Is it possible that you can use your personal salary to pay the bills during your first few years of marriage while he is in graduate school? Maybe one of you already has a savings that can be used during this time? Would your chasan consider taking a part time job while he in school to offset some of the bills? If the two of you can create an action plan, it could minimize the uncertainty, and the subsequent anxiety that you are experiencing. Hatzlacha Rabah,

Rabbi Reuven and Shira Boshnack.

By Rabbi Moishe Dovid Lebovits

As we approach the Yom Tov of Yom Kippur, thoughts of the day’s significance occupy our minds. At the same time, we’re also concerned about how we will make it through the fast. One of the interesting mitzvos we have in relation to the fast is eating on the ninth day of Tishrei — Erev Yom Kippur. Why is it a mitzvah to eat on this day? Are women obligated in this mitzvah? What about children, or people who will not be fasting on Yom Kippur? What types of food should be eaten? These questions and others will be addressed in this article.

Source

The Gemara says that one should eat on the ninth day of Tishrei. Doing so is a mitzvah and it’s considered as if he fasted on both the ninth and tenth of Tishrei.

Reasons

Rashi mentions that the reason we eat on Erev Yom Kippur is in order to prepare us to fast on Yom Kippur.

The Shibolei Haleket quotes the opinion of Rashi, and then adds that by eating on Erev Yom Kippur, the fast will be harder on Yom Kippur. Therefore, eating on Erev Yom Kippur is like fasting on both days. The Aruch Hashulchan says that out of His love for us, Hashem told us to eat on Erev Yom Kippur so that we will have strength to fast on Yom Kippur.

The Ohr Zerua says that the reason we eat on Erev Yom Kippur is to show our bitachon that we will come out on top in the coming year and Hashem will forgive our sins. Therefore, we have a meal on Erev Yom Kippur. The Prishah holds that we eat on Erev Yom Kippur to show that the fasting on Yom Kippur is for a mitzvah and not for any other reason. By eating and then stopping, we indicate that we are fasting to fulfill a mitzvah. Another reason for eating on Erev Yom Kippur is mentioned by Rabbeinu Yonah in Shaarei Teshuvah. On other Yamim Tovim we eat meals in honor of the mitzvah of the day, because there is a great reward for rejoicing with the mitzvos. Since we need to fast on Yom Kippur, the seudah is celebrated on Erev Yom Kippur.

Day vs. Night

In halachah, the night comes before the day. Is there is a mitzvah to eat on the night of Erev Yom Kippur, or it is only a mitzvah during the day?

The Aruch Hashulchan says that since the main reason for eating on Erev Yom Kippur is to prepare us for the fast, this is only possible during the day. This is the opinion of other poskim as well.

Women

Are women included in the mitzvah to eat on Erev Yom Kippur?

Generally, women are exempt from any mitzvah that is time bound. Accordingly, they would be exempt from this mitzvah as well. On the other hand, since the mitzvah to eat on Erev Yom Kippur is related to fasting on Yom Kippur, and women are obligated to fast, they should be required to eat on Erev Yom Kippur. Most poskim say that since woman are required to fast, they have to eat on Erev Yom Kippur. This is similar to Shabbos, where we say that since they are required to avoid work on Shabbos, they are obligated in Kiddush, Havdalah, and the meals of Shabbos. Some add that eating on Erev Yom Kippur gives us the energy to ask for life on Yom Kippur. Women also need life; therefore, they are obligated to eat on Erev Yom Kippur.

Sick Person

Someone who is too ill to fast on Yom Kippur still has a mitzvah to eat on Erev Yom Kippur. This is true even though he has no need to prepare for the fast.

Some note that according to the reason that eating on Erev Yom Kippur is to celebrate Yom Kippur, even one who does not fast on Yom Kippur also needs to eat on Erev Yom Kippur.

Children

Although a child will not fast on Yom Kippur, he should be trained to eat on Erev Yom Kippur because of chinuch.

Fish/Meat

One should make sure to eat fish at the first meal on Erev Yom Kippur. Eating meat at the meal is also recommended.

One should make sure to eat light foods that can be digested easily so he will not feel haughty during davening.

Minimum Amount of Food There is a discussion in the poskim whether the minimum amount one has to eat is a kezayis or more.

Some question those who suck candies or chew gum on Erev Yom Kippur, since there is no shiur to this eating.

Eating Bread

There is a discussion in the poskim if one has to eat bread on Erev Yom Kippur, or if any food would suffice.

According to the reason that the eating on Erev Yom Kippur is to prepare for the fast, one should eat bread and other filling foods. So too, if this is in place of a meal on Yom Kippur, bread should be eaten. However, according to some of the other reasons, bread is not required, and one can eat any food.

Some mention the custom to have lechem mishneh at the meal on Erev Yom Kippur, but this is not a custom that the majority follow.

Dairy

One should avoid eating dairy foods at this meal, as well as eggs and garlic. These foods increase semen and we want to avoid a discharge on Yom Kippur. Coffee or tea with milk is not an issue.

The More the Better

One should make sure to eat as much as possible, since the more one eats the better off he is. The poskim mention that one should spend less time learning on Erev Yom Kippur in order to have more time to eat. Each time one eats, he fulfills a mitzvah on Erev Yom Kippur.

At the same time, one should make sure not to eat like a glutton.

Ate Too Much

If one ate so much food on Erev Yom Kippur that he does not feel the pain of not eating on Yom Kippur, he has still fulfilled the mitzvah of not eating on Yom Kippur.

No Need to Eat

Even if one does not need to eat before the fast in order to have an easy fast, he has a mitzvah to eat on Erev Yom Kippur.

Brachah on Mitzvah

Although we recite brachos when we perform a mitzvah, no brachah is recited on the mitzvah of eating on Erev Yom Kippur, since it is not apparent that we are eating for a mitzvah. Others explain that we are concerned that we might be able to fast on Yom Kippur even without eating on Erev Yom Kippur, and if so there is no mitzvah to eat on Erev Yom Kippur. In such a case, the brachah would be in vain. In addition, there is no set time for the mitzvah to eat the entire day. Others explain that the eating is connected to the mitzvah to fast on Yom Kippur, and we don’t make a brachah on a fast.

Finally, a brachah only applies if one is obligated to eat a specific food, such as matzah. When the mitzvah is to eat whatever you please, no brachah is recited.

Eating Kreplach

On Erev Yom Kippur, the custom is to eat meat wrapped in dough (called kreplach in Yiddish). The Yom Tov of Erev Yom Kippur is a Yom Tov in “hiding,” since we are permitted to work. Therefore, we eat hidden meat as well, as we know that there is no joy without meat. How does he explain purim and hoshana rabba?

Pills

The poskim permit one to take pills on Erev Yom Kippur in order to ease the fast on Yom Kippur.

By Rabbi Gil Student

I. Changing the Ending

People are familiar with the changes to the Amidah prayer during Aseres Yemei Teshuvah, the time from Rosh Hashanah through Yom Kippur. In addition to four insertions, we say Ha-Melech Ha-Kadosh and Ha-Melech Ha-Mishpat at the end of their respective blessings. We are also familiar with the practical consequence, at least regarding Ha-Melech Ha-Kadosh: if you forget the change, you have to repeat the Amidah. What is less well known is that a significant group of Rishonim disagrees. According to them, if you mistakenly use the regular wording instead of Ha-Melech Ha-Kadosh, you do not repeat the Amidah.

Before asking why they are lenient, however, we should ask the opposite question. Why should you have to repeat at all? You recited a perfectly good Amidah, using the wording that is correct almost every day of the year. You said the third blessing and praised Hashem’s holiness. Nothing you said was false or inappropriate. Why should the same Amidah that would be valid a week earlier suddenly become invalid because you failed to make the special change?

The primary text for this discussion is a Gemara (Berachos 12b) which teaches that during the ten days from Rosh Hashanah through Yom Kippur one says Ha-Melech Ha-Kadosh and Ha-Melech Ha-Mishpat. It also records an opinion that even if someone failed to use the special wording, he still fulfills his obligation. As support, the Gemara cites a verse (Isa. 5:16) that uses the regular terminology for Hashem’s holiness specifically in the context of divine judgment. The Gemara continues with a dispute over the proper formulations and concludes that the halachah requires Ha-Melech Ha-Kadosh and Ha-Melech Ha-Mishpat.

Rav Yitzchak Alfasi (Rif; 11th cen., Spain) understands the conclusion strictly. He reads the Gemara as ruling against the opinion that the ordinary wording remains valid after the fact. If someone fails to say Ha-Melech Ha-Kadosh, he does not fulfill his obligation (Rif, ad loc.).

Rambam (12th cen., Egypt) rules explicitly this way. During the ten days from Rosh Hashanah through Yom Kippur, if a person mistakenly concludes the third blessing without the special wording, he returns to the beginning of the Amidah (Mishneh Torah, Hilchos Tefillah 10:13). But that interpretation is disputed.

II. The Change is Only Preferred

Rav Zerachyah Halevi (Baal Ha-Maor; 12th cen., Provence) offers perhaps the clearest formulation of the lenient position. He reads the Gemara’s conclusion as telling us what to do lechatchilah, preferably. During Aseres Yemei Teshuvah, the proper wording is Ha-Melech Ha-Kadosh. But if someone fails to make the change, “we do not send him back” (Commentary to Rif, ad loc.). He explains that the two positions in the Gemara disagree about what to do initially. Both agree that after the fact, if you say the regular ending, you can continue.

Ramban (13th cen., Israel) strongly rejects this reading. He argues that the structure of the discussion indicates that there is a genuine dispute over whether the ordinary formulation remains valid (Milchamos Hashem, ad loc.). Still, Baal Ha-Maor is an early lenient view. He distinguishes between the obligation to pray and the obligation to emphasize Hashem’s kingship during this period of judgment. Both obligations are binding but failure to do the latter does not erase the prayer that was actually recited. Similarly, Talmidei Rabbenu Yonah (ad loc.) quote the sages of France who rule likewise. Rav Eliezer ben Yoel Halevi (Raavyah; 13th cen., Germany) develops the lenient position further. He writes that a person who forgets the special wording “did not say something erroneous but rather failed to mention kingship.” In other words, the basic blessing remains intact. What is missing is the special reference to Hashem’s kingship required during these days. He compares this to other seasonal additions whose omission does not invalidate the underlying prayer (Raavyah, Berachos, par. 40).

Rav Shlomo ben Aderes (Rashba; 13th cen., Spain) considers this view seriously as well. However, he ultimately rejects it, arguing that the Gemara’s language implies a genuine dispute over validity, not merely over the ideal wording (Rashba, Berachos 12b).

III. Addition vs. Modification

We see a debate whether someone who neglects to change the end of the blessing to Ha-Melech Ha-Kadosh must repeat the whole prayer. The underlying disagreement may be about the status of Ha-Melech Ha-Kadosh within the Amidah.

One possibility is that it is essentially a seasonal modification. The third berachah remains the same blessing of Hashem’s sanctity. During Aseres Yemei Teshuvah, we must express an additional theme: Hashem is the King who sits in judgment. According to this approach, the special wording is mandatory lechatchilah, initially, but its omission need not undermine the underlying Amidah. You were supposed to emphasize divine kingship and failed to do so but you still recited the entire prayer. We are familiar with this concept elsewhere in the Amidah:

additions that must be said because of the particular day or season, whose omission can be a real mistake without meaning that the entire prayer was never recited. If Ha-Melech Ha-Kadosh functions similarly, the lenient Rishonim are easy to understand: Aseres Yemei Teshuvah adds something to the Amidah, and forgetting that addition leaves the basic Amidah intact.

The stricter position understands the change differently. During Aseres Yemei Teshuvah, we do not recite Ha-Melech Ha-Kadosh as merely a seasonal addition to the ordinary prayer. It is the prescribed matbei’a, the official form of the blessing for these ten days. If that is the case, failing to say Ha-Melech Ha-Kadosh is more than just omitting a seasonal thought; it is deviating from the formula the Sages established for the blessing at this particular time of year.

To put it differently, the lenient view sees continuity: this is still the regular third blessing, with an important seasonal modification emphasizing Hashem’s kingship. We are required to make the change, but failure to do so does not mean that no valid blessing was said. The strict view sees a new required formulation: during these ten days, the Sages established Ha-Melech Ha-Kadosh as the proper ending of this berachah, and once that becomes the required form, failing to use it is a deviation from the formal structure of the Amidah, not merely the omission of an addition.

IV. In Practice

Rabbenu Asher ben Yechiel (Rosh; 14th cen., Germany-Spain) follows the strict approach. His son, Rav Ya’akov (Ba’al Ha-Turim; 14th cen., Spain) records the dispute between Raavyah and the stricter authorities but rules in accordance with his father, the Rif and Rambam (Tur, Orach Chaim 582).

Rav Yosef Karo (16th cen., Israel), in his Beis Yosef (ad loc.), concludes that because the Rif, Rambam and Rosh all require repetition, this is the ruling that we must follow. He then codifies it unequivocally in the Shulchan Aruch: during Aseres Yemei Teshuvah one says Ha-Melech Ha-Kadosh, and if a person failed to make the change, he returns to the beginning of the Amidah (Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chaim 582:1).

The subsequent major halachic codes follow this ruling. The discussion among the Rishonim therefore does not change the practical halachah. Someone who forgets Ha-Melech Ha-Kadosh in the circumstances described by the codes must repeat the Amidah. But the rejected view helps us understand how we reached this conclusion.

GOLDEN POTATO SOUP

INGREDIENTS:

One and half pounds Yukon gold potatoes –
Peeled and chopped
Two parsnips – peeled and chopped
One onion – chopped
Three stocks of celery – chopped
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon minced garlic
4 cups vegetable or chicken broth
1 cup water
3 cups cauliflower florettes (you can use
frozen)
1 tablespoon chopped chives for garnish

DIRECTIONS:

Fall is in the air and there’s no better way to start
a Yom Tov meal then with a bowl of delicious
soup. Try this as a nice change to the regular
chicken soup. Your family and guests will love it.
In a stock pot heat the oil on medium and add
chopped onion and celery. Season with salt and
cook 6 to 8 minutes until golden and softened.
Add the garlic and cook for one more minute.
Add the remaining ingredients and cover and cook
over low flame approximately 2 to 3 hours until all
vegetables are tender. Purée the soup with an
immersion blender until smooth. Season with salt
and pepper to taste and garnish with the chives to
serve.

HONEY MUSTARD TUNA SALAD

INGREDIENTS:

Two cans of solid white
tuna in water drained
2 tablespoons Dijon
mustard
2 tablespoons honey
3 tablespoons mayo
Salt and pepper to taste
1/2 red bell pepper finely
chopped

DIRECTIONS:

I love honey mustard tuna from the bagel store but I really don’t
love paying $9 for a bagel. You can make it at home for a fraction of
the price and just as delicious.
Combine all the ingredients together and enjoy!

DAIRY LOKSHEN KUGEL

INGREDIENTS:

16 ounces wide egg noodles
1/2 stick butter (melted)
16 ounces cottage cheese
16 ounces sour cream
4 large eggs (lightly beaten)
2 tablespoons pure vanilla
extract
3/4 cup sugar (divided)
Optional: 1/4 cup golden
raisins (for extra sweetness)
1 1/2 cups cornflakes
(crushed)
2 teaspoons cinnamon

DIRECTIONS:

This dairy lokshen kugel is great for Yom Kippur break the fast
meal. It’s hearty and filling and can be made ahead and
reheated.
Cook noodles according to package, drain and rinse and set aside in
large bowl.
Add the melted butter, cottage cheese, sour cream, eggs, vanilla, and
1/2 cup of the sugar (and the raisins, if you use that option). Mix well.
Pour the noodle mixture into greased 9×13 pan and smooth the top
with a spatula. In a medium bowl, mix the cornakes, cinnamon, and
the remaining 1/4 cup sugar. Sprinkle the cornake mixture evenly
over the top of the noodle mixture. Bake the kugel, uncovered, in a
preheated 350 degree oven for 45 to 50 minutes or until it is set. The
top should be golden brown.

By Rabbi Aryeh Lebowitz

And he arrived at the place and he slept overnight there, because the sun had set. ~Bereishis 28:11

What is the halachic status of someone who is asleep? Is the person in any way obligated in mitzos or responsible for their actions when they are asleep? Are they considered present or is it as if they are not there? As we will see, the poskim discuss these questions and different halachos and situations have different standards and definitions.

Counting Someone Who Is Asleep Toward a Minyan

The Shulchan Aruch (O.C. 55:6) rules that a sleeping person can count as the tenth man for a minyan. The Beis Yosef presents three arguments that it is sufficient to be physically present to count toward a minyan, even though the person is not conscious. First, he quotes his rebbi, the Mahari Beirav, who compares a sleeping person to someone in the middle of his silent Shemoneh Esrei, who still counts toward a minyan even though he cannot answer amein or pay close attention to the shaliach tzibbur. Second, there is an opinion in the Gemara that an infant counts toward a minyan even though he has no understanding of his surroundings. Third, he argues, we count people present even though we see that they are just idly talking to their neighbors and not paying any attention to the davening. A sleeping person should be no different. The Magen Avraham (55:8) accepts the ruling of the Shulchan Aruch and allows a sleeping person to count toward a minyan. He cites others who believe that we can even count three or four sleeping people toward a minyan, as long as the majority of the ten men are awake. However, the Magen Avraham rejects this extension, on the grounds that the main reason to count a sleeping person is the allowance to count a baby toward a minyan, which the Gemara makes clear is a leniency specific to the tenth man.

On the other hand, the Taz (55:4) rejects the Shulchan Aruch’s ruling entirely. He argues that a sleeping person cannot be compared to someone in the middle of Shemoneh Esrei, who can stand silently and be yotzei the recitation of Kedusha through shomei’a k’oneh. Second, while there is an opinion in the Gemara that an infant can count toward a minyan, we do not pasken like that opinion. Additionally, it is possible that someone asleep, who is in a state of tumah, is worse than an awake baby. Furthermore, the Taz argues that if there are people talking during davening and not paying any attention, they would also not count toward the minyan. We certainly cannot derive halacha from “the foolish people whose sin is great.”

The Mishna Berura (55:34) rules that one should wake up a person who is sleeping to help make a minyan, at least to the point that he is dozing rather than in a deep slumber. In the Bei’ur Halacha, he remains uncertain whether one can rely on the sleeping person in an instance where it would be impossible to wake him up.

Obligations and Responsibility While Asleep — Rav Shlomo Zalman’s Psak

While the poskim debate whether a sleeping person can count toward a minyan, Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach (Halichos Shlomo, Tefillah Miluim 12) writes that it is obvious that while a person is sleeping, he is exempt from all obligations, both mitzvos asei and mitzvos lo ta’asei, just as a shoteh, someone with diminished mental capacity, is exempt from all mitzvos. Therefore, Rav Shlomo Zalman paskened that a person is not obligated to wake someone who, if he continues to sleep, will miss the opportunity to fulfill a mitzvah or will even passively violate a negative mitzvah. Many have discussed Rav Shlomo Zalman’s, chiddush. Here, we present a number of relevant sources and how they can be understood from different perspectives. The Gemara in Berachos (13b) explicitly states that if someone is asleep he should be awakened in order to recite the first pasuk of Kriyas Shema. The clear implication is that although one might be asleep, he remains obligated in the mitzvah, and must therefore be awakened in order to fulfill it. However, Rav Shlomo Zalman points out that Rashi (s.v. BePsuka) says that this is referring to a person who was dozing but not in a deep sleep. If one is semi-conscious, he is still chayav in mitzvos and therefore must be awakened in order to perform them properly. The Rema (Y.D. 372:1) rules that if a kohen is sleeping in a house where a person dies, he must be awakened so that he can leave the house. The clear implication of this is that a kohen can be in violation of the prohibition of becoming tamei from a dead body even when he is sleeping.

Rav Shlomo Zalman is reported to have deflected this question by asserting that there is in fact no prohibition for the kohen to remain in the house with the dead person while sleeping. When he stays, however, he is in constant contact with tumah (as even an inanimate object contracts tumah by being in the same room as the dead person). The reason we are required to wake him does not relate to any prohibition that he is violating, but rather to Hashem’s desire that kohanim not become tamei. While sleeping, he is not violating any formal prohibition, but is clearly becoming tamei, against the will of Hashem.

The Sha’arei Teshuvah (O.C. 639) cites the Birkei Yosef, who writes that when two people share a sukkah that does not have enough room for both of them at the same time, they should alternate nights sleeping in the sukkah, or each sleep half of the night in the sukkah. Some suggested that one person could go to sleep in the sukkah, and then while he was asleep, the second person could pull his friend’s bed out of the sukkah, and go to sleep himself. It would not be a problem to remove the first person since he is asleep and at that point exempt from the mitzvah of sleeping in the sukkah. However, Rav Shlomo Zalman argued that the Birkei Yosef never made such a suggestion because one cannot go to sleep in a sukkah knowing in advance that he will be removed. Although a sleeping person is not obligated in mitzvos, one cannot go to sleep in order to put himself in a position to avoid such an obligation.

Practical Application

Rav Shlomo Zalman’s psak is applicable in many common situations. For example, if a person is asleep when the last time to say Shema or daven is approaching, there is no obligation to wake the person since he is exempt from mitzvos while sleeping. Similarly, if a person is sleeping while wearing a four-cornered garment without tzitzis, there is no obligation to wake him or carefully remove the garment. If someone went to sleep when no sukkah was available, there is no need to wake him if one becomes available. Moreover, it is even permissible to move a sleeping person out of a sukkah, provided he did not go to sleep with the assumption that he will be moved. Rav Yosef Chaim Zonnenfeld (Salmas Chaim 226) rules that one should wake up a friend who is either sleeping on his stomach or back, as sleeping in these positions is in violation of the Gemara (Berachos 13b). However, according to Rav Shlomo Zalman, there would be no such requirement.

According to Rav Shlomo Zalman, it would follow that a person cannot go to sleep in an empty house if he knows that while he is asleep he will be alone with a woman in violation of yichud. Although a sleeping person does not violate any prohibition, he may not go to sleep knowing that it will put him in a situation that violates the Torah. Rav Shlomo Zalman adds one very important point. Even though a person is exempt from all mitzvos while asleep, nevertheless, it is often correct to wake a person to perform a mitzvah. Although someone who is sleeping is not considered to be neglecting a mitzvah, he is also not actively fulfilling it and certainly does not receive the credit or reward for doing so. Therefore, it is generally assumed that a person would appreciate being woken up to avoid missing the opportunity to perform the mitzvah.

By Rabbi Dr. Yaakov Abramovitz

What is the secret to making lasting resolutions?

In the first responsive line of Avinu Malkeinu, we ask Hashem to help us do “teshuvah sheleimah,” complete repentance. The addition of that descriptor, sheleimah, makes it sound like there is another type of teshuvah – one that is “incomplete” – which we do not want. And here I was thinking that one can either repent or not. What would incomplete teshuvah look like? And, by contrast, what is the teshuvah sheleimah which we all are trying to achieve? Rav Avraham Yitzchak HaKohen Kook zt”l explained this phrase by looking at the very next sentence in Avinu Malkeinu, in which we ask Hashem to deliver a “refuah sheleimah” to those who are ill. Here too, we are left with the impression that there is also an incomplete form of healing which we do not want. But in this case, the difference between the two types is more intuitive. A partial healing is one that only addresses the symptoms, leaving the underlying malady untreated. Surely, no patient would want “band-aid” medical care which does not target the root of the disease; that would be an incomplete healing. We don’t ask Hashem to help the sick seem better temporarily; we beg Him to actually cure them – completely. Similarly, Rav Kook explained, there is a partial form of teshuvah where only the external symptoms of aveiros are addressed. Perhaps a negative behavior can be suppressed or an urge stifled – but those would be mere “band-aid” solutions. The problem may appear to subside, but is sure to resurface before long, returning to our “teshuvah wishlist” year after year. This is the incomplete rehabilitation we are hoping to avoid.

Instead, we are striving for teshuvah sheleimah, the process which entails searching for the underlying causes of undesired behaviors. Re-examining our social environments, thought patterns, and emotional needs is the only way to truly deal with the mistakes and bad habits we wish to remedy. It is no easy feat; meaningful change rarely is. This is why we ask Hashem to help us.

With this discrepancy in mind, we can begin to understand why New Year’s resolutions – of both Alef Tishrei and January 1st – are notoriously unsuccessful and unsustainable. We are able to correctly identify certain actions or relationships we would like to improve, but fail to pinpoint or treat their underlying causes.

For example, it is not enough to simply commit to speaking less lashon hara. To treat the concern “completely,” one would need to analyze his or her personal triggers and vulnerabilities in this area. Questions to ask at this stage may include: With whom do I tend to gossip? Are there certain people, in particular, that I take pleasure in maligning? Is there a certain social environment or online platform which I frequent that makes it hard to resist partaking in juicy topics of conversation? Exploring honest answers to these inquiries is the true foundation of meaningful and lasting change.

So, this is the big question we need to ask ourselves during this season of growth and change: Are our resolutions for the coming year just “band-aids,” or do they completely treat the core of each issue? May Hashem help us achieve teshuvah sheleimah and earn a g’mar chasimah tovah!

By Rabbi Yissocher Frand

I would like to share a thought about Yom Kippur. As Rav Dovid Kronglass used to say, this is the most important week of the year. We have a tremendous task in front of us and that is the work of repenting. We should always bear in mind one very important fact: how desperately the Ribono shel Olam wants us back.

Every day in Shmone Esrei, we recite a blessing about Teshuva. The blessing begins with the words “Bring us back, our Father, to Your Torah, and bring us near, our King, to Your service, and influence us to return in perfect repentance before You.” The blessing ends with the words “Blessed are You, Hashem, WHO DESIRES REPENTANCE (haRotzeh b’Tshuva).”

We recite these words so many times during the year that perhaps they lose their impact. However, haRotzeh b’Tshuva does not merely mean that the Almighty will accept our repentance. It means He WANTS our repentance. His desire for us to come back is so enormous that as long as we make even a minimal effort, He will be waiting there to take us back.

I once read a short story from a Gentile author. The story is fictional, but I believe it is very powerful and has a beautiful message that is directly related to the idea I just mentioned. The story encapsulates what it means when we say the Ribono shel Olam is a Rotzeh b’Tshuva. In the story, there was a boy who finished high school and, as is quite typical of youth that age, he told his parents he wanted to discover and see the world. His father told him, “No, I want you to start college.” The boy would not accept his father’s advice: “I need to spread my wings a little and see what the rest of the world is like. I want to travel and see the rest of America.” The father told his son “If you leave, do not bother ever coming back. You can start college now or you can leave this house and keep on going because you will never be welcome in my house again.” The boy decided to leave anyway.

He left his home in Maryland and began hitchhiking across America. He picked grapes in California, and he did odd jobs here and odd jobs there just to keep himself going. As is often the case, after some time, the boy became home sick. He missed his parents. He missed home. He missed having a permanent roof over his head. He missed knowing where his next meal would come from. He started hitchhiking back to the east coast, which was his point of departure.

He got as far as Iowa, sat down on a curb somewhere and wrote a letter home: Dear Mom, I’m tired. I’m hungry. I’m lonely. I want to come home. But I don’t know if Dad will let me home. Mom, you know the train track crosses our farm and near the farm is an apple tree. If Dad will let me in, I want you to tie a white towel around a branch of that tree. I will get on the train, and I will look for the apple tree and check to see if there is a white towel wrapped around one of its branches. If dad still feels the same way he did the day I left when he told me not to ever come home again, I understand that there will be no white towel there and I will know that I can’t come home. The boy made it back to the east coast, near Maryland, boarded a passenger train, and started heading towards home. As the train approached the farm, he became terribly nervous. Would there be a towel there or would there not be a towel? As the train came closer and closer, he turned to the fellow sitting next to him on the train and said, “I want you to do me a favor. We are going to pass a farm with an apple tree right near the tracks. I am going to close my eyes. Just tell me if there is a white towel wrapped around a branch on that tree. I am too nervous to look myself.” He was so scared that the towel would not be there, he was afraid to even look directly at the tree! He sat on the train with his eyes tightly shut and the train passed the farm and passed the tree. The boy said to the man sitting next to him, “What happened?” He said, “Son, there is a white towel around every branch on that tree.” This said, in effect, that the father could not wait for the son to come home.

This, l’havdil is a parable of what it means “HE DESIRES REPENTANCE”. The Ribono shel Olam wants us back, passionately. Just like any father who may have had disagreements with his son, at the end of the day, “as a father has mercy on his children,” how much more so in the case of the Mercy of our Father in Heaven, which knows no bounds. He certainly wants us back as much as any flesh and blood father would ever want his son back. May we all merit to do a complete repentance and be sealed for a long, good life of shalom, a year of redemption and salvation, and peace upon Israel.

By Rabbi Joey Haber

I once took a trip with my wife to Dubai. At one point during the trip, our tour guide brought us to a spice market. We spent around an hour perusing through the market, marveling at the countless different types of spices that were being sold, taking in the aromas, and hearing about the different properties of the various products.

Then, after about an hour, the tour guide said that we needed to leave, because we had an appointment for a tour of the Burj Khalifa, the tallest building in the world.

As we were about to leave the area, we noticed a different market. We asked the guide what this was, and he explained that it was Dubai’s famous gold market. Gold products could be purchased there for significantly cheaper prices than elsewhere.

“Wow, so let’s go check it out,” we said. “But we can’t,” the guide insisted. “I already told you, we have an appointment at the Burj Khalifa. We need to run.”

I told my wife that we were living through a classic mashal. What we experienced was, truly, the story of so many people’s lives.

Instead of bringing us to the gold market, and allowing us to buy precious jewelry, the guide kept us for an hour at the spice market and then rushed us out to see a tall building. We spent an hour looking at spices, when we could have been checking out gold.

Our “tour” of this world brings us opportunities to acquire “spices” and to acquire “gold.” The “spices” are enjoyable, and have a pleasing and alluring “aroma,” but offer little long-term value, as opposed to the “gold,” the mitzvot that we are able to perform during our brief stay in this world. Unfortunately, however, many people get distracted by the “spices,” and end up without any “gold.” They are too preoccupied with vanity, with fleeting pleasures and delights, and fail to make time to acquire “gold,” to involve themselves in the things that really matter. Each morning, before Shema, we pray that Hashem should lead our hearts to love and fear Him. The question arises; how can we pray to Hashem that we should love and fear Him? Is this not our responsibility? The Talmud teaches, “Everything is in G-d’s hands, except the fear of G-d.” Hashem controls everything except our decision of how to act. We are given free will, the choice to do the right thing or the wrong thing. Why, then, do we pray to Hashem that we should love and fear Him?

Rav Moshe Feinstein answered by noting that we don’t ask Hashem to give us love and fear, but rather that He should direct our hearts toward love and fear. We ask Hashem to help us by removing the distractions that lead us away from Torah and mitzvot. We ask Him to keep us away from the “spices” so that we can focus on the “gold,” on the things that really matter. Of course, the choice of whether to go to the “spice market” or the “gold market” is ours. But we pray for Hashem’s help, asking that He keep us away from the distractions that pull us away from the important and valuable things in life. One of the purposes of Yom Kippur is to bring us to the “gold market,” to redirect our focus and attention. We withdraw from everything else in life, even our basic needs, and spend the day immersed entirely in kedushah. We go to the extreme of forgetting about everything, including food, and remain in the synagogue the entire day, evaluating ourselves, reassessing our choices in life, and talking to Hashem. We remind ourselves of the difference between “spices” and “gold,” that what really matters in life is our relationship with Hashem, and the many meaningful contributions that we can and should be making.

Let us take advantage of this precious opportunity to redirect our focus onto the “gold,” and commit ourselves to pursue that which has real value, and which lends our lives true meaning and significance.

By Rabbi Moshe Meir Weiss

One of the most urgent segments of our Rosh HaShannah and Yom Kippur liturgy is the proclamation we say with great feeling, “Us’shuvah us’filah u’tzedakah ma-avirin es ro-ah hagizeirah – And Repentance, and Prayer, and Charity remove a bad degree.” As we are getting closer to the Judgment Day, it behooves us to arm ourselves heavily with these three ingredients to ensure that nothing unpleasant, chas v’shalom, happens to ourselves and to our loved ones during the upcoming year. Today, I would like to zoom in on the third of these powerful weapons, namely tzedakah. The Rambam in the tenth perek of Hilchos Matnos Aniyim makes a truly incredible statement. “Chayavim adam l’hizaheir b’mitzvas tzedakah yoseir mikol mitzvas asei sheb’Torah – A person is required to be careful with the commandment of charity more than with any other positive precept in the entire Torah. Wow!! Bear in mind that amongst the 248 positive mitzvahs in the Torah are such heavyweights as learning Torah, keeping Shabbos, wearing tzitzis and donning tefillin. All of these mitzvahs are complex and necessitate supreme precision to fulfill them properly. Yet, the Rambam says that even more care is needed for the mitzvah of tzedakah.

The Rambam then proceeds to prove this remarkable point from the verse describing why Hashem chose Avraham Avinu as the father of the Jewish nation. There the posuk states, “Ki yidativ lamaan asher yitzaveh es bonov v’es beiso acharov v’shomru derech Hashem laasos tzedakah…– I loved him because I know that he would instruct his children and his household after him in the way of Hashem to do charity…” Thus, the Rambam concludes that the number one reason to choose Avraham as our first father is his dedication to tzedakah. This puts the mitzvah of tzedakah on a very lofty spiritual pedestal. Take note that the Rambam doesn’t simply state how important charity is. Rather he highlights how careful we must be to fulfill this mitzvah properly.

Let me shed some light on one of the demands of this lofty mitzvah. The Gemora relates that after the destruction of the Temple, Reb Yochanan Ben Zakkai was taking a walk during a time of severe famine and he noticed a Jewish woman of noble bearing and regal carriage bending down and picking out barleycorns from the dung of animals. Moved by this sad sight, he asked the woman who she was. She answered that she was the daughter of Nakdimon Ben Gurion, one of the wealthiest men in pre-destruction Yerushalayim. She said to Reb Yochanan, “Rebbe, do you remember my kesuvah?” “Yes,” he exclaimed, “you were promised a dowry of one million golden dinarim. My daughter,” he continued, “what happened to all of your father’s wealth?” “He lost it all because he didn’t give proper tzedakah,” was her response.

The Maharsha is quick to explain that Nakdimon Ben Gurion definitely gave charity. The Gemora reveals to us that when he would go to the study hall, servants would roll out fresh carpets for him to walk upon. After he entered the study hall, he would command his servants to leave these carpets behind for the poor to take. Nevertheless, says the Maharsha, Hashem took away his wealth because he didn’t give charity in the correct proportion to his great wealth.

What a scary thought! Many wealthy people comfort themselves with the fact that they give move charity than the average person. At times, their conscience might gnaw at them saying that they could give even more. But their guilt is assuaged when they tell themselves that they give more than their fellow man which by itself affords them ample protection. This Gemora is a wake up call that this is a wrong way of thinking. Nakdimon Ben Gurion certainly gave more than the average man to tzedakah but his daughter was condemned to pick out barley from feces because he didn’t give enough. In a similar vein, we are taught in Masechtas Kallah that Rebbe Akiva noted that Rebbe Tarfon was not giving sufficient charity according to his ability. Rebbe Akiva approached Rebbe Tarfon and asked him if he wanted to invest in a great real estate opportunity. As you can imagine, any venture that was suggested by the great Rebbe Akiva was extremely attractive and Rebbe Tarfon readily acquiesced, handing over to Rebbe Akiva the large sum of 4,000 golden dinarim. Rebbe Akiva took the money and promptly gave it to the poor. A while later, Rebbe Tarfon asked Rebbe Akiva to show him his investment. He was curious to see what Rebbe Akiva had bought for him; a farm, a vineyard, a bank!!! Rebbe Akiva surprised him by taking out a Sefer Tehillim and showing him the verse in Number 112, “V’tzidkoso omedes lo-ad – Your charity remains forever,” and informed him that this was his investment. And, as the Chofetz Chaim embellishes, the comment about real estate was not a white lie at all. Rather, Rebbe Akiva was helping Rebbe Tarfon invest in real estate in his Afterlife, for charity remains forever. Once again we see that Rebbe Akiva was helping Rebbe Tarfon to give the rightful amount of charity, commensurate with his wealth.

How often there is an appeal in shul and everyone answers with the same one hundred or one hundred and eighty dollar response. It is incumbent upon us to realize that we must give according to our success and not just according to the amount that everyone else is giving. It is only then that we can truly merit the full protection of the third ingredient or Repentance, Prayer, and Charity.

The Rambam assures us that no one will ever become poor from giving. Then he goes even one step further and assures that no bad will ever come upon a person from his charitable activities. That tzedakah is linked to our health is also absolutely clear. The Kitzur Shulchan Orech cites the famous Medrash for Shir HaShirim, “Tira d’lo tiftach l’anya, tiftach l’asya – The door that doesn’t open up for the poor will open up for a doctor.” And of course the Gemora teaches us in Baba Basra, “Tzedakah tatzil m’maves – Tzedakah saves us from death.”

In preparing our defenses for the Day of Judgment, we have many weapons. Saying “Amein, y’hei shmei rabba,” can tear up an evil degree. Learning Torah can ward off retribution. Doing teshuvah and petitioning Hashem with meaningful prayer are also extremely potent. There is something however truly unique with the mitzvah of tzedakah: While all of the other weapons at our disposal can save us from leaving this world before our keitz, our designated time, one of the only ways to actually add years to one’s keitz is through the mitzvah of tzedakah, as the Gemora teaches us in Baba Basra [11], Hashem added twenty-two years to the life a Benyamin HaTzadik for taking care of a woman and her seven children during a time of famine.

May it be Hashem’s will that we have the smarts to give generously according to our ability and in that merit may we be zoche to a Kesiva v’chasima tova u’mesuka, always being able to give and never needing to take.

By Rabbi Elimelech Biderman

The Tune

The tefillos of Yom Kippur are sung in special melodies, which have been sung for centuries. The holy sefarim explain that these tunes annul the harsh judgment.

As it states (Tehillim 47), Zamru Leilokim, prune away the harsh judgment with song.” We can explain this with a mashal. The king’s son became insane. He sent him to an asylum, and paid a lot of money for his care.

Eventually, the son became better. But the director of the asylum didn’t want to tell that to the king. He didn’t want to lose the high income he was receiving from this royal patient; he kept the prince locked inside his asylum. The prince was wise, and he sought ways to free himself from his unlawful imprisonment. He tried writing to his father, telling him that he was better, but the director destroyed all those letters. The clever child wrote a letter to the king, but this one looked totally different than all the others. He scribbled all over the page; it looked like a very insane child wrote it. Only a discerning eye would notice the words camouflaged within the scribbles. When the director saw that letter, he was glad to send it to the king, for it would prove to the king that his son was still ill and needed professional care. When the king received the strange letter, he studied it closely. (He loved his son, so he took the time to study the letter, even though it appeared like nonsense.)

The king was able to read the words concealed under the pictures and scribbles. It read, “I am already well. Bring me home.” We say many tefillos to our King, our Father in heaven, but the angels intercept our tefillos and do not let them go up to heaven. So we sing melodies. The malachim don’t see importance in them, and they allow the songs to go up to heaven. They don’t know that concealed within these tunes are all our requests for the upcoming year. Hashem understands our concealed message, and grants us all our wishes.

The Great Battle

The Mishnah in Avos (5:7) writes, “Ten miracles happened to our forefathers in the Beis HaMikdash…” One of them is that the cohen gadol never became impure on Yom Kippur, and therefore, every Yom Kippur the cohen gadol was able to preside over the avodah. Cohanim would keep the cohen gadol awake all night, so he wouldn’t fall asleep and become impure. If they saw him falling asleep, they would snap their fingers to awaken him… ”(Yoma 1:7). Taking that into account, the Tosfos Yom Tov asks, why was the cohen gadol’s purity a miracle? He was awake all night, and cautious from tumah! The Tosfos Yom Tov answers, “The yetzer hara and the yetzer tov fight like two sworn enemies. When one of them sees his end is near, and that he will soon lose the battle, he becomes stronger and fights even harder, because he knows that if he loses this battle he has lost everything. And since the night of Yom Kippur is, an especially holy night for the cohen gadol, because the next morning he will carry out the avodah in the Beis HaMikdash to atone for the entire Jewish nation for all their sins, the yetzer hara and the Satan try hard, with all their might to make him sin and to make him tamei. This is the reason the cohen gadol needed so much shemirah.” It was a miracle, because the yetzer hara knows the greatness of Yom Kippur and the holiness of the avodah. He worked hard to make the cohen gadol impure. But he remained pure, and that’s a miracle.

On a personal level, when one sees that his yetzer hara is very strong, that is a good sign. That is a sign that the yetzer hara is afraid of him, and he is therefore trying very hard to get him to sin. Similarly, if a generation sees the yetzer hara is battling against them with all its might, that’s a sign the yetzer hara is afraid of what they can accomplish. And it’s a sign the yetzer hara knows its end is near, and he must fight with all its might to survive.

Hashem’s Joy

Hashem’s Joy on Yom Kippur In Tehillim (139:16) it states, “Hashem created days, and one is Hashem’s day.” Tana d’Bei Eliyahu (ch.1) writes, “This pasuk is referring to Yom Kippur. Hakadosh Baruch Hu had immense joy to give this day to the Jewish nation with love. This can be explained with a mashal of servants who were cleaning the king’s palace. When the king went outside, he saw all the garbage that was thrown out, and he was extremely happy. This is how it is on Yom Kippur… When Hashem forgives the sins of the Jewish nation…He’s extremely joyous… Hashem says ‘Rejoice immensely because I am forgiving the sins of the Jewish people.’”

Rebbe Simchah Bunim of Peshischa zt’l tells another mashal to help us understand Hashem’s immense joy on Yom Kippur: A compassionate father saw his son was in immense pain. Doctors said he is suffering from worms. They gave him medicine, and all the worms came out. When the father sees the worms, he is very happy. Hashem is similarly happy when He sees that all our sins were taken out from our system. The Midrash (Tana d’Bei Eliyahu Zuta, end of ch.4) tells, “The day Moshe went up to Har Sinai for forty days [on Rosh Chodesh Elul until Yom Kippur, to bring down the second luchos] Bnei Yisrael decreed a fast day. On the fortieth day [Yom Kippur] they decreed another fast day. They started to fast on the preceding night, so they would be protected from the yetzer hara. In the morning, they went towards Har Sinai. They were crying as they came towards Moshe, and Moshe was crying as he came towards them. Their cries went up before Hashem, and then Hashem’s compassion was roused on Bnei Yisrael and He accepted their teshuvah… Hakadosh Baruch Hu said, ‘Bnei Yisrael, I swear by My name and by My throne that your tears will become immense joy. This day will be a day for atonement for you, for your children, and for your grandchildren, for all generations.’” Reb Simchah Bunim of Peshischa zy’a told the following parable: Someone’s home was very dirty, and although he tried many times to clean it, he didn’t succeed. He thought of a plan. He invited the king to his house. The king’s servants came to this man’s house to clean it, so it would be fitting for the king’s visit. The man gained double: He had the merit to host the king, plus his house was cleaned. This is what happens on Yom Kippur. As we say in the zemiros of Motzei Shabbos, “Al Chatai”, for my sins, “Avor Tavor”, come over to visit me. We earn double: Hashem comes to us, and our sins are removed.

By Ephraim Fischbein

A.J. Dillon has spent the past several years establishing himself as one of the NFL’s most powerful running backs. Known throughout football as “Quadzilla,” the 6-foot, 247-pound running back has rushed for 2,488 yards and 16 touchdowns during his NFL career, while adding 89 receptions for 784 yards and two touchdowns. After beginning his career with the Green Bay Packers and spending time with the Philadelphia Eagles, Dillon is now entering his seventh NFL season with the Carolina Panthers.

But there is another part of Dillon’s story that makes him especially interesting to the Jewish community.

Dillon is proudly Jewish.

Growing up in Connecticut, Dillon attended Hebrew school and was raised with Jewish traditions and holidays. His mother’s sideof the family is Jewish, and he has spoken openly about how Judaism was a major part of his childhood. He has also discussed what it was like growing up as a Jew of color and challenging misconceptions about what a Jewish person looks like.

As his football career became more demanding, Dillon found that balancing Judaism and professional football was not always easy. The NFL schedule can make it difficult to observe holidays and maintain the same Jewish routine he had growing up, but he has continued to look for ways to stay connected to his Jewish roots.

In this special Jewish Vues interview, Dillon talks about growing up Jewish, attending Hebrew school, his family, Jewish holidays, being a Jew of color, balancing Judaism with the NFL and the importance of maintaining his Jewish identity.

What does being Jewish mean to you personally?

Being Jewish is a big part of who I am. It was a major part of my upbringing and my family. My mom’s side of my family is Jewish, and we grew up observing the holidays and participating in Jewish traditions. It is something I am proud of.

What was your Jewish upbringing like growing up in Connecticut?

My mom’s side of the family was very Jewish. All my life growing up, I was around Judaism. I went to Hebrew school and we observed the holidays. It was just part of our family and part of our lives.

Do you have any special memories from Hebrew school?

Hebrew school was a big part of my childhood. It was something that I did growing up and it connected me to Judaism and to my family.

When did football become such a major part of your life?

Football became a huge part of my life as I got older. Once I started getting more involved in sports, my schedule became much busier. There were practices, games, traveling and everything that came with being an athlete.

How did your family help keep you connected to Judaism?

My family has always been very important to me. Growing up, we did the holidays and traditions together. Those experiences stayed with me even as football became a bigger part of my life.

Have you ever experienced someone being surprised that you are Jewish?

Yes, definitely. There are people who have certain ideas about what Jewish people look like, and when they meet me they don’t necessarily expect me to be Jewish. I think that is part of why I am comfortable talking about my Jewish identity.

Do you feel that being a Jewish NFL player gives you a responsibility to represent the Jewish community?

I think having a platform gives you an opportunity to represent the things that are important to you. I am proud of being Jewish, and if talking about my experiences can help or educate others, then I am happy to do that.

Have you found ways to celebrate Jewish holidays while playing in the NFL?

It can be challenging because of the schedule, but I try to find ways to stay connected. Sometimes it means celebrating with family when I can, and other times it means finding another way to observe or participate.

How important is your family in helping you maintain your Jewish connection?

Very important. My family is a huge part of who I am. The Jewish traditions I grew up with came from my family, and those are things that stay with you.

What has been the reaction from teammates when they learn that you are Jewish?

I have been fortunate to have a lot of support. My teammates and people around me have generally been very respectful of my background and my Jewish identity.

What does it mean to you to be one of the relatively small number of Jewish players in the NFL?

I am proud of it. There aren’t a lot of Jewish players in the NFL, so I think it is important to embrace it and be comfortable talking about it.

What advice would you give a young Jewish child who wants to become a professional athlete?

Be yourself. You don’t have to choose between being Jewish and being an athlete. There will be challenges, and you may have to find your own balance, but you can be proud of both parts of who you are.

What would you like Jewish kids reading this interview to know about you?

I would want them to know that you can be proud of who you are and pursue whatever dreams you have. Being Jewish is something I am proud of, and I think everyone should be proud of their own identity and their own story.

By Ari Hirsch

Camp Kaylie is entering an exciting new chapter.

After 15 years of providing an unforgettable summer experience for children, Camp Kaylie is preparing to expand in a major way. This coming summer, Camp Kaylie will have a second campus, opening the door to even more campers and an exciting new future for the popular Ohel camp. In an exclusive interview with The Jewish Vues, Camp Kaylie Director Rabbi Eli Brazil shared details about the new campus, plans for Summer 2027, the tremendous response from families, and some of the new staff members joining the Kaylie team. Rabbi Brazil, will be entering his 13th summer as director in 2027.

A Second Campus Becomes Reality The idea of a second Camp Kaylie campus has been in the works for several years.

Two years ago, Ohel CEO David Mandel announced at the Ohel Annual Gala that the Harvey and Gloria Kaylie Foundation had purchased property for a second Camp Kaylie campus. The property was located five minutes from the existing campus.

David Brecher, Jay Kestenbaum, Elly Kleinman, Mel Zachter, Danial Jacobson, David Mandel and other Ohel Camp Kaylie Board members invested time and effort developing plans and obtaining the necessary permits. However, the process with the original property purchased was taking longer than expected. Then, this summer, an unexpected opportunity presented itself.

As some camps faced various challenges, a camp director made the decision to sell his camp and approached Ohel. Baruch Hashem, Camp Kaylie was able to secure the purchase of the second property. “This is a camp,” Rabbi Brazil explained. “It has a pool, a lake, a gym, a shul, and all the facilities that we need.” The exact location is not being announced just yet. Rabbi Brazil said the new campus is close to the current Camp Kaylie, and the location is expected to be announced within the next two or three weeks.

A Unique Summer 2027

Summer 2027 will be a unique transition year for Camp Kaylie.

Because of the timing of the acquisition and the need to prepare the new campus, the boys and girls will utilize the two campuses during different periods of the summer. The exact schedule and arrangements were still being finalized at the time of the interview. By Summer 2028 Be’ H, the vision is for each gender to have its own full summer campus, with both programs operating on a regular two-month schedule.

Making the New Campus “Kaylie”

The new campus is already beautiful, Rabbi Brazil said, but Camp Kaylie plans to invest heavily in it over the next year or two. The goal is to transform the property into a campus that feels just like Camp Kaylie and offers the same high level of programming, facilities, and atmosphere that campers and parents have come to expect.

More Than 1,200 Applicants!

The response to Camp Kaylie has been remarkable.

More than 1,200 applications came in during the first three days of registration.

The current Camp Kaylie campus has a capacity of approximately 500 campers, and the administration is working through the applications to accommodate as many children as possible. Camp Kaylie will continue to operate fully integrated with typical kids and kids with special needs sharing and participating in all activities and events.

The second campus will ultimately allow Camp Kaylie to serve significantly more families and provide an opportunity for children who otherwise might not have been able to attend.

What About the Staff?

With two campuses comes the challenge of building and coordinating two strong staff teams. 

Rabbi Brazil said the staffing arrangements are currently being worked out. Rabbi Shalom Rosner will continue to serve as Manhig Ruchani. Some of the existing staff will continue in their current roles with the boys and those with the girls with additional arrangements made for those who will work across both campuses.

Rabbi Eli Brazil, Avi Weber, and David Sharvit will be involved in both campuses.

And there will be plenty of new faces.

New Stars Joining the Kaylie Team Among the new staff members joining Camp Kaylie are Rabbi Yaakov Sait of Yeshivat Netiv Aryeh and Rabbi Aryeh Leibowitz of Sha’alvim.

Rabbi Brazil also revealed that more key staff members are being brought on board, particularly on the girls’ side.

On the boys’ end, Rabbi Storch will be joining as a mashgiach. He will give shiurim and spend time with campers and staff, with the goal of inspiring and connecting with the boys throughout the summer. Rabbi Brazil said Camp Kaylie is continuing to look for additional “superstars” to join the team.

Two Rabbi Aryeh Leibowitz’s?

There is also a humorous challenge facing the administration: There are actually two Rabbi Aryeh Leibowitz’s involved with Camp Kaylie. One is Rabbi Aryeh Leibowitz from North Woodmere who leads Camp Kaylie’s masmidim Kolel, while the new staff member is Rabbi Aryeh Leibowitz of Sha’alvim.

A New Chapter for Camp Kaylie

After 15 years, Camp Kaylie is preparing to take a major step forward.

Rabbi Brazil said he is extremely excited about what lies ahead and views the expansion as a tremendous opportunity.

He expressed tremendous hakaras hatov to Hakadosh Baruch Hu for the way everything came together. “We always try to do things the right way,” he said. “Baruch Hashem, Hashem has helped us along the way.”

With a second campus, new staff, more space, and more than 1,200 families already showing tremendous interest, Camp Kaylie is entering a new era.

For the thousands of children and families who have made Camp Kaylie part of their summers over the past 15 years, the next chapter promises to be an especially exciting one.

By Rabbi YY Jacobson

“Coronation Night” – that is how one of the great spiritual masters would define the night of Rosh Hashanah.

In a 1974 sermon, Rabbi Yosef Dov Soleveitchik (1903-1993), one of the great Jewish thinkers of the last century, related that when he was a young child learning in cheder (Jewish day school), in the Russian village of Chaslavitch, in the days preceding Rosh Hashanah, he could recognize in his teacher an extraordinary sense of trepidation.

“Our teacher, who was a Chabad Chassid (disciple), said to us: ‘Do you know what Rosh Hashanah is? The Rebbe, the Tzemach Tzedek would call the night of Rosh Hashanah – ‘Karanatzia Nacht’ (‘Coronation Night’). “Do you know whom we will be coronating?” the teacher asked the children.

The young Soleveitchik prodigy responded in jest: “Nicholas.” (This was several years before the 1917 Russian Revolution, when Nicholas still served as the Russian czar).

And the poor teacher of Chaslavitch responded: “Nicholas? He was coronated years ago. Why do we need to coronate him again? Besides, he?! He is not a real king…” (This was the authentic Jewish internal pride a poor Jew had in the shtetl, something sorely lacking in so many successful and affluent Jews).

“Tonight, my dear children, we coronate G-d; we place a crown on G-d… “And do you know who places the crown?” The teacher continued. “Yankel the Tailor, Berel the Shoemaker, Zalman the water-carrier, Yossel the painter, Dovid the butcher…” Rabbi Soloveitchik concluded: Over the years, I have given many sermons and written many discourses on the concept of Rosh Hashanah, but nothing ever made me feel the true depth and power of the day as the words of my childhood teacher. Every year, when I recite in the Rosh Hashanah prayers the words, ‘Rule over the whole world in Your glory,’ I remember my teacher in Chaslavitch.

The Essence

How much of Judaism is compressed in this brief conversation between the teacher and students? In a few words, a poverty-stricken Jewish teacher in a small shtetl in Russia gave his seven-year-old students the core, the essence, the very marrow of Jewish existence, of Jewish thought and experience.

Now he needed not explain to them why they should marry Jewish girls, continue living as Jews, be proud of their Jewishness, as so many teachers and educators today. It was more than obvious: Who would want to miss out on the opportunity of coronating G-d…

Why Bother?

But why does G-d need us to coronate Him? If G-d created us, does He really need us to declare Him king? He is the boss regardless. And what does it mean that G-d is our king? Imagine you assemble 15,000,000 ants and declare yourself king over them. When 50,000 of them then turn left instead of right, you kill them in a single instance. Does that make you king over them? G-d gave us our entire existence; our entire being and life force are from Him. Relative to Him, we are far smaller and far less significant than an ant in the presence of a human. Can He then be our king? Is that not an insult to Him?

Yet here lay one of the great and daring ideas of Judaism. G-d, the perfect endless one, desired to be king not through power or by the dictates of nature. He desired to be chosen as king; He wanted a relationship with someone distinct from Him who would freely choose to construct a bond with G-d. It is our opportunity to choose trust, love, and oneness. So, an infinite, omnipotent G-d suspends His infinity, suppresses His endlessness, and conceals His omnipotence, to allow space for an intelligent, independent, and self-oriented human being who is then capable of choosing G-d as his or her king.

And where do I coronate Hashem? In those very spaces where I do not feel His presence, where I feel so detached, alone, and afraid, in the intimate spaces of my brain and heart that do not trust and do not feel infinite oneness with infinite bliss. That is where G-d “can’t” do the coronation. He, so to speak, “needs” me to choose trust and connection. It is in that space where I feel so separate and anxious that I, and only I, can coronate Him.

The Night

This, the spiritual masters explained, is the meaning of Rosh Hashanah, the day when the first human was created. It is the day when small, frail, vulnerable, and lowly human beings invite G-d to serve as their King.

G-d could place His own crown on His head, but then He would be a dictator, not a king; the relationship would be coerced, not chosen. So, G-d waits all year for this great moment for which the entire universe was created – the moment when you and I coronate Him as our king.

Rosh Hashanah is the most moving day in the Jewish calendar. More than any other day, it embodies the meaning of human existence and the vulnerability of a G-d who linked His fate to man’s.

Happy Coronation Night. May we feel the presence and love of the Divine in every space of our heart and life. And as we say in the Rosh Hashanah prayers, may the entire world experience their true oneness with the Divine, and the world will be ONE.

By Rabbi Efrem Goldberg

There are moments in life when we suddenly become aware of our breathing. A frightening diagnosis, a phone call in the middle of the night, turbulence on an airplane, waiting for news about someone we love, a siren in Israel, or an antisemitic incident that once would have seemed unimaginable, can make our chest tighten, our heart accelerate, and our breathing become shallow. At those moments, we either instinctively know what to do, or someone reminds us that the way to stay calm is to slow down and take a deep breath. As we enter Rosh Hashanah 5787, I suspect many of us could use a deep breath. The last few years have been relentless. October 7 and its aftermath, a prolonged war, the extended confrontation with Iran, rising antisemitism around the world, and an increasingly unsettling sense that assumptions we once took for granted can no longer be assumed, have all left us exhausted.

All of that is before we even consider what is happening in our individual worlds. Some are waiting to find a spouse, yearning to have a child, navigating illness, caring for aging parents, struggling with children, worrying about finances, or carrying a private pain nobody else can see. We are functioning, moving, and doing what needs to be done, but sometimes it feels hard to breathe. Perhaps that is why one of the most important messages of Rosh Hashanah is something extraordinarily simple: remember to breathe. Not because of a new meditation technique or the latest self-help book, but because of the Torah’s description of the creation of the first human being, the event we commemorate on Rosh Hashanah: ַו ִַּיּיֶצֶר ה׳ ֱ-אֱֹלֹקים ֶאֶת־ ָָהָאָָדָם- ָעָָפָר ִמִן-־ָהֲָאֲָדָָמָה ַ.-ו ִַּיַּּפּח ְּ-בַּאַָּפּיו ִנְִׁשַׁמַת- ַחִַּיּים ַו ְַיְִהִי – ָָהָאָָדָם ְלְֶנֶֶפֶׁש ַחַָּיּה “Hashem formed man from the dust of the earth, and He breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living being.” The body had already been formed, the organs were there, and the physical infrastructure was complete, but Adam wasn’t yet alive. Life began with a breath. The Nefesh HaChaim focuses on the Torah’s unusual description, vayipach b’apav, G-d “blew” into Adam. When someone blows, explains Rav Chaim Volozhiner, the air comes from deep within the person. The Torah is teaching us something profound about ourselves. The neshama within us originates, as it were, from the deepest place, from Hashem Himself. Our neshima, our breath, points us toward our neshama, our soul.

That connection is embedded in the final words of Tehillim: “Kol ha’neshama tehalleil Kah, Let every soul praise Hashem.” Chazal hear another meaning in those words: Al kol neshima u’neshima she’adam nosheim, tzarich l’hallel laKadosh Baruch Hu, for every breath a person takes, he should praise Hashem.

Every breath is a gift, but perhaps there is something more. Breath isn’t merely something for which we praise Hashem. Breath itself can become an expression of faith.

When we panic, our breathing becomes shallow and rapid. When we feel threatened, overwhelmed, or out of control, our body often knows it before our mind has even processed it. Our heart races, our muscles tighten, and our breathing changes. That is why controlled breathing is used by people operating under extraordinary pressure. Navy SEALs famously use a technique known as “box breathing”: inhale slowly through the nose for four seconds, hold for four, exhale slowly for four, and then hold again for four before repeating the cycle. The point isn’t that the danger has disappeared or the circumstances have suddenly changed. What has changed is the ability to remain composed and respond rather than simply react.

That is an extraordinarily Jewish idea. Emunah doesn’t mean nothing frightening will happen, that everything will unfold according to our plan, or that we deny danger, pain, and uncertainty. Emunah means remembering, even from inside the narrowest place, that we are not alone. Sometimes taking a deliberate breath can be more than a physiological exercise; it can be an act of emunah, a moment of reconnecting our neshima with our neshama and remembering the Source of both. Usually, on Rosh Hashanah, there is a physical expression of that journey in the shofar. A shofar is a remarkably simple instrument. There are no strings, reeds, or keys, and it doesn’t generate its own sound. It takes our breath and amplifies it. The Sfas Emes explains that when we blow the shofar from the breath deep inside ourselves, we are returning to that original breath of creation. We are declaring that beneath all the distractions, mistakes, anxieties, and distance of the past year, the breath Hashem breathed into us remains. The neshama and our relationship with its Source remain intact. We take the very life He placed within us and return it to Him as a sound, and in doing so we acknowledge and coronate Him as the Source of that life.

This year, however, there is a fascinating twist. The first day of Rosh Hashanah is Shabbos and there will be no shofar. We will recite Malchiyos, Zichronos, and Shofaros. We will speak about the shofar, study its pesukim, remember its sounds and reflect on its meaning, and yet the room will remain silent. Perhaps that silence contains a message of its own. The shofar may be silent, but we are still breathing. The instrument isn’t producing a sound, but the breath that would have traveled through it remains inside us.

Perhaps on the first day of Rosh Hashanah, Hashem asks us to encounter the message of the shofar even before we hear its sound. Can we find the breath without the shofar? Can we recognize the neshama without needing to be awakened by the blast? Can we remember Who breathed life into us even in the silence? On the second day, when we will, please G-d, hear the shofar, we will take that breath and send it through the narrow opening until it emerges from the broad end.

The shape of the shofar itself captures the journey.

The Rebbe Maharash explained that it begins narrow and becomes wide, reflecting the words min hameitzar karasi Kah, anani bamerchav Kah. We call out from constriction and seek expansiveness. We move from feeling trapped to discovering space, from breathlessness to breath.

Even the sounds of the shofar tell that story. We begin with a tekiah, a long, whole, confident sound. Then comes shevarim, reflecting the times life breaks us and leaves us groaning, our breath interrupted. Sometimes it becomes a teruah, short, staccato bursts that sound almost like the breath of anxiety and urgency. But we never end with shevarim or teruah. After the broken sounds comes another tekiah. Brokenness doesn’t get the last word, nor does panic. We return to wholeness and eventually reach the tekiah gedolah, the great, sustained breath.

Halacha itself associates breath with life. The Gemara in Yoma discusses searching through the rubble of a collapsed building on Shabbos to determine whether someone is still alive. How far must we search? Until we can determine whether there is breath at the nostrils, based on the verse, “All in whose nostrils was the breath of the spirit of life.” To breathe is to be alive, but Rosh Hashanah challenges us not merely to be biologically alive. It asks whether we are spiritually alive. Are we living deliberately or reacting constantly? Are we connected to the Source of our breath, or have we become so distracted by the noise around us that we have forgotten where our life comes from?

Our world doesn’t make that easy. We live hunched over screens, bombarded by notifications, breaking news, WhatsApp messages, emails, and endless reasons to be outraged or afraid. We rarely sit still, experience silence, or take a full breath before reaching for the next thing demanding our attention. Maybe that is part of the gift of this unusual Rosh Hashanah. The first day is silent, with no shofar to awaken us, only the quiet of Shabbos and the opportunity to become conscious of the breath that Hashem continues to place within us every moment.

Before asking what we will accomplish this year, perhaps we should ask a more fundamental question: What is giving us life? What animates us, fills our lungs and our souls, and what are we living for? On Rosh Hashanah we celebrate the birthday of humanity by returning to humanity’s first moment. Hashem breathed into Adam and Adam came alive. This year, before the shofar ever sounds, we can take a slow, deep breath and remember that we are alive, that our lives are gifts, and that there is a neshama inside each of us that no failure, distraction, disappointment, or difficult year can extinguish. We don’t control everything that will happen this year, but we know Who gave us this breath and Who will be with us through whatever comes.

The world may still feel narrow. There are real things to worry about, real challenges to confront, real enemies to defeat, and real problems we cannot wish away. Emunah isn’t pretending that the meitzar isn’t narrow. It is believing that there can be a merchav on the other side and that Hashem is with us as we travel from one to the other.

So sometime on the first day of Rosh Hashanah, when there is no shofar to hear, create a moment to hear its message anyway. Put down the machzor for a few seconds, close your eyes if it helps, and take a slow breath. Inhale for four seconds, hold for four, exhale for four, and hold again for four. With the first breath, think: Hashem gave me life. With the second: Hashem is with me. With the third: I don’t have to control everything. With the fourth: I can face whatever this year brings. Then, on the second day, when the shofar finally sounds, listen differently. Hear your own breath in its cry, the breath Hashem first breathed into Adam and continues to give each of us. Hear it travel from the narrow opening to the wide one, from meitzar to merchav, and allow it to carry our prayer that whatever 5787 brings, we have the faith, strength, and presence to face it.

We came into this world with Hashem’s breath, and each Rosh Hashanah brings an opportunity to be renewed by becoming conscious of it again. These days, in many ways, we are all SEALs, exposed to extraordinary pressures and challenges and trying not to become overwhelmed by them. We cannot control all that is happening around us, but we can pause, breathe deeply, reconnect our neshima to our neshama, and remember Who is ultimately in control.

Let this be the year we return to our breath, and through it, return to ourselves and to Hashem.

By Rabbi Shay Tahan

A Jewish neighborhood.

A controversial and deeply divisive mayor.

A crowd of admirers—and one woman standing alone in protest.

When Mayor Mamdani walked into Eichler’s in Boro Park, he was greeted not with hostility, but with smiles, handshakes, cheers, gifts, and admiration. Members of the Jewish community gathered around him, eager to welcome the city’s newly elected mayor. For a moment, the scene seemed to send a powerful message: Boro Park was ready to embrace Mamdani.

But then there was the woman who refused to join the celebration.

Standing amid the crowd, she protested against the mayor and the spectacle unfolding around her. While others saw an opportunity to welcome the city’s new leader and establish a relationship with him, she saw something very different: an unacceptable display of admiration for a politician whose positions have raised profound concerns among many Jews.

Who is right?

Is greeting Mayor Mamdani simply smart politics and responsible community relations? Can a Jewish community maintain cordial relations with a mayor while firmly rejecting positions it considers dangerous or objectionable? And where is the line between diplomacy and endorsement?

To understand where the proper balance lies, we must turn to the Torah and the teachings of Chazal.

The Torah presents several striking examples of Jews showing honor and deference to people in positions of power. Perhaps the most famous is Yaakov Avinu’s encounter with Eisav.

Eisav was no ordinary political adversary. He was Yaakov’s brother who harbored hatred toward him and came toward him with four hundred men. Yet when Yaakov encountered Eisav, the Torah tells us that Yaakov bowed before Eisav seven times. He also sent him an enormous gift and addressed him respectfully. Yaakov’s conduct certainly cannot be understood as an endorsement of Eisav’s values. Eisav represented a worldview fundamentally opposed to that of Yaakov and his descendants. Nevertheless, Yaakov understood that there are circumstances in which showing respect and seeking peace with a powerful individual is appropriate. Perhaps this is how we can understand the warm welcome given by many members of our community to Mayor Mamdani. Their greeting does not necessarily mean that they endorse his political positions or worldview. Perhaps they were demonstrating respect toward a powerful political figure while seeking to establish a productive relationship with the person who now holds authority over New York City.

The Torah provides another remarkable example in the way Yaakov Avinu interacted with Pharaoh.

Pharaoh was not merely a political leader with whom the Jewish people happened to disagree. He was the ruler who enslaved Bnei Yisrael and decreed that their male children be thrown into the Nile. Yet when Yaakov stood before Pharaoh, the Torah tells us: “And Yaakov blessed Pharaoh.”

This is remarkable. Yaakov stood before the ruler of Egypt, a king whose government would eventually enslave his descendants, and yet he did not treat him with contempt. He was able to maintain his own beliefs and principles while simultaneously showing respect to the king.

The lesson is important: respecting a ruler does not necessarily mean respecting everything the ruler believes or does. One can recognize the authority of an office, maintain a relationship with the person occupying it, and speak respectfully while firmly opposing his policies.

But the Torah and Chazal also present the opposite approach.

In the story of Purim, Mordechai finds himself in a very different situation. When Haman leads him through the streets of the city on the king’s horse, Mordechai does not respond with the deference one might expect toward the king’s representative. When Haman helps Mordechai mount the horse, Mordechai kicks him with his foot before climbing onto the horse.

Rather than showing Haman the honor ordinarily accorded to a representative of the king, Mordechai treated him with open contempt. His conduct reflected a deliberate refusal to honor Haman, despite the authority he wielded.

Chazal themselves address this very tension. The Gemara in Megillah (6b) teaches: “.אם ראית רשע שהשעה משחקת לו — אל תתגרה בו” “If you see a wicked person whose hour is smiling upon him, do not provoke him.” The Gemara explains that when a wicked person is enjoying success and power, his position is particularly formidable. The Gemara then discusses the apparent contradiction between this teaching and the statement that it is permissible to provoke the wicked in this world, offering several distinctions. One of the conclusions is: “When his hour is smiling upon him, it is different.”

Chazal are therefore recognizing an important principle: the proper response to a problematic or even wicked individual may depend not only upon who he is, but also upon the circumstances and the degree of power he currently possesses.

Accordingly, since the mayor appears to have “the hour smiling upon him” and currently holds considerable political power, there may be a strong argument for greeting him warmly rather than provoking him. From the perspective of the Gemara in Megillah, diplomacy and restraint may therefore be the wiser course.

But there is an important limit to this approach.

In Sotah (41b), the Gemara relates the famous incident involving King Agrippas during the mitzvah of Hakhel. Agrippas stood before the people and read the Torah. When he reached the words — “You may not appoint over yourself a foreigner” — he began to cry, because of his lineage.

Seeing the king’s distress, the people called out to him — “You are our brother, you are our brother.”

The Gemara then makes a shocking statement: “At that moment, Israel became deserving of destruction because they flattered Agrippas.” The Gemara is not teaching that every expression of respect toward a king is forbidden. The problem was that the people crossed the line from legitimate respect into חנופה. They told Agrippas something that was not true simply to make him feel better. This distinction is crucial. There is a difference between respecting a person’s position and flattering the person himself. There is a difference between diplomacy and admiration, and between maintaining a relationship with a powerful leader and publicly identifying ourselves with everything he represents. Let’s go a step further: In recent years, we have witnessed two radically different approaches within the Jewish world.

On one side are those who believe that Jews must avoid unnecessary confrontation with powerful figures and nations. Some groups, most notably Neturei Karta, have even gone so far as to embrace or publicly engage with some of Israel’s most bitter enemies. Their approach is based on the belief that confrontation and political power do not necessarily protect the Jewish people, and that accommodation and opposition to confrontation may offer a safer path. Others have taken almost the exact opposite approach.

They believe that after nearly two thousand years of exile, the Jewish people have entered a fundamentally different stage of history. We are no longer a powerless minority dependent upon the goodwill of foreign rulers. Hashem has granted us a Jewish state, political influence, military strength, and a renewed sense of national identity.

Their message is therefore very different: We should no longer bow our heads before the nations. We should stand tall as Jews and express our Jewish identity and pride openly. Perhaps the difference lies in how we understand the era in which we are living. There are two fundamentally different understandings of our present situation, and each naturally produces a very different approach.

Those who believe that we remain fully in exile—even while living in the Land of Israel—will naturally view our relationship with the nations through the lens of galut. Throughout the generations, Jews lived under foreign rulers and understood the importance of maintaining peaceful relations with those who held power. Chazal taught us to respect government authority, to avoid unnecessary confrontation, and to conduct ourselves wisely before the nations.

In galut, the Jew often had little choice but to recognize the power of the ruler standing before him.

But there are others who believe that we are living in the final stages of the geulah. They see the return of the Jewish people to the Land of Israel, the establishment of Jewish sovereignty, and the renewed strength and confidence of the Jewish people as signs that we are no longer living in the same historical reality that defined Jewish life for centuries. If that is indeed the reality of our times, perhaps the Jewish response should also be different.

Perhaps we can finally raise our heads. Perhaps we can express Jewish pride publicly without constantly worrying about how the nations will react.

Perhaps we can protest political leaders without feeling that we might lose their approval.

And perhaps we can say clearly: We will work with you when necessary, but we will not pretend to admire what we believe is wrong. Perhaps the answer determines how we should interpret what happened at Eichler’s. There is nothing inherently wrong with meeting a mayor. There is nothing wrong with speaking to him, working with him, or even welcoming him into our community. Political relationships are necessary, and a responsible Jewish community must maintain relationships with those who govern it. But we must be careful.

A handshake is one thing. A public celebration is another.

Respect for an office is one thing. Admiration for a political worldview is another. Diplomacy is one thing. Flattery is another. And perhaps the woman who stood alone in protest was raising the question that the rest of us need to ask: When we welcome a powerful political leader into our community, are we simply being diplomatic—or are we sending a message that we have embraced him and what he represents?

That is the line we must learn to recognize in my opinion.

By Rabbi Reuven and Shira Boshnack

Dear Rabbi and Shira , Hi. I’m a weekly reader of your column. I figured this was the right place to ask my question. On my friend’s very first date, she got in a fight with the person she was set up with. It got so bad that he pulled over on one of the service roads of Ocean Parkway and demanded she get out of the car. While there are scarier possibilities that could have happened, I started to wonder what are “best practices” that one should utilize while dating. -Seeking Safety in Brooklyn

Dear Seeking Safety, This is an important conversation to have. As much as we like to assume that everyone is going to be respectful of boundaries and date in the healthiest way, we should always exercise care in how we date and interact to ensure everyone’s safety. Trust your intuition– Your mind is processing and scanning all the time, and sometimes will pick up on cues that something is not safe. If you feel something is off, it probably is. Stand your ground– If a request to do something, makes you uncomfortable, express it. If the question being asked is inappropriate, you don’t have to answer it. It might be uncomfortable especially if you don’t know the person well, but you’re are entitled to stick to your principles.

Keep contact– Let your family know where you are and where you are going. Make sure your cell phone is fully charged before you leave for your date.

Date in a public place, where there are plenty of people. A good litmus test can be- is this location and situation appropriate to the laws of yichud? These laws were created to ensure that when there is a meeting between two people, there are plenty of witnesses and people are less likely to act inappropriately.

Open your own beverages, don’t share or exchange drinks, don’t drink anything which tastes unusual. As stated above, most people are nice, normal and respectful, but always be vigilant.

Get home safe– If you are the person who is driving home, make sure that your date gets into their home safely. If they drop you off, make sure that they arrive home safely.

Good luck and stay safe.

Rabbi Reuven and Shira Boshnack.

By Rabbi Moishe Dovid Lebovits

The kashrus of honey and products made from honey has been the topic of discussion from time immemorial. We will discuss the halachos regarding the kashrus of honey, and other honey products.

What is Honey?

Honey comes from a German word “hunaga” which means golden. Honey has long been recognized as a remedy for many ailments for thousands of years. Many times when one has a cold it is used as a remedy to cure a sore throat, among many other uses. Honey is produced in the following manner. The bee flies to a flower, takes the nectar out of the flower and stores it inside their stomachs, and then returns to the hive. In the hive the bee regurgitates the nectar, adds enzymes to it and then passes it to worker bees. These bees then fan their wings creating a strong draft which makes most of the water evaporate from the nectar. Bees get rid of the extra water by swallowing and regurgitating the nectar over and over. The finished product is honey. Its flavors depend on the flowers from which the bees harvested their nectar.

According to the above it would seem at first glance that honey is the by-product of the bee since they swallow it. Therefore, it should be forbidden based on the Gemorah in Bechoros which says anything which comes out of a non-kosher [animal etc.] is tomei.

Why is Honey Permitted?

The Gemorah mentioned above says two reasons why honey is permitted.

Honey is not a secretion of a bee; it is just stored in the bee. According to this reason, honey from other insects would also be permitted.

There is a gezeiras hakusev which permits honey from a bee. Based on this reason, honey from other insects would not be permitted.

According to these two reasons, honey is a kosher product as codified in the Shulchan Aruch (we will discuss later on kosher status for Pesach).

Beeswax Beeswax is a substance which is secreted from the wax glands in a bee’s stomach. This emerges as a transparent liquid that the bee chews and molds into the cell on their comb. The honey combs are melted and filtered to produce a clean wax. Its color may vary from white to yellow or brown, which is because of the pollen that they may have eaten. The bees use this wax to create a honey comb in which honey is stored. In the honey comb, the bees grow and form a larva into mature bees.

Beeswax is used in a wide variety of things, such as a coating for fruits, jelly beans, candles, ear plugs, cosmetics, polishes, sewing, and soap making.

Is Beeswax Kosher?

According to the two reasons mentioned above why honey is permitted, they would seem not to apply to beeswax since it is a secretion and it is not honey from a bee. There are many sources in Chazal which would imply that beeswax, although a secretion of the bee, is permitted. The Levush says the beeswax is the excretion of the processing of the honey, [and since honey is permitted so too is beeswax]. The Tur says in regard to Hilchos Bedikas Chometz that we check with a wax candle, but not with a candle made out of [animal] fat since it may drip on the utensil and make the utensil non-kosher. From the fact that we can use wax candles and there is no concern that the dripping will make the utensils non-kosher is a proof that beeswax is kosher.

In addition, many use a wax candle and extinguish it on a utensil and there is no concern about making the utensils non-kosher.

The Rama says the custom is to light with a wax candle for neiros Chanukah.

The Mishpatim Yesharim was asked about the kosher status of a beverage made by boiling beeswax in water. He was concerned that maybe chelev was mixed in there, but he does not mention a concern of beeswax being non-kosher.

Contemporary Opinions

It is possible to say that wax has no inherent taste, but is a waste product and therefore not subject to the halachos of “anything which comes out of a tomei is tomei.” The opinion of Harav Shlomo Zalman Aurbach zt”l is that beeswax is permitted because it is not a food and is like dirt, and even if one were to chew it and extract honey from it, this is not considered an eating. This is the reasoning of Horav Moshe Feinstein zt”l to permit shellac which comes from a non-kosher insect.

Harav Yisroel Belsky zt”l maintains that beeswax is permitted to be eaten and this is the custom of Klal Yisrael, without anyone disputing the fact.

Bee Pollen Bee pollen is a yellowish or greenish substance. Pollen sticks to the many hairs that are on the bee’s body when the bee visits the flower. The bee then moves the pollen to an area on its hind legs and is then pressed into pollen baskets. The bee adds traces of saliva to make a more effective press. The bee pollen is collected off the bees’ legs by special devices placed at the entrance to the hives.

Bee pollen has many healthy vitamins and enzymes. In addition, it rejuvenates the body, stimulates organs and glands, and brings about a longer life span.

Kashrus Status

Pollen is not a secretion of a bee and therefore does not pose any kashrus issues.

Bee Bread

Bee bread is a mixture of honey and pollen and is a kosher food.

Royal Jelly

Royal Jelly is an extremely nutritious, thick, milky, white creamy substance located on the top of the queen bees. The bees produce it as food for a developing larva and as the unique diet for the queen bee. Without this, the queen bee would fail to develop properly. It accounts for their incredible size and longevity. They live forty times longer than the worker bees, seven years as opposed to seven weeks.

It is considered a health food due to its richness in protein, amino acids, vitamins, and fatty acids.

The following is a list of benefits that Royal Jelly offers: It increases life span, tones and strengthens your skin. It strengthens and stimulates your immune system, helps heal wounds, and gradually decreases pains. It also increases appetite, relieves weak and tired eyes, and many other benefits. Some want to say that royal jelly should be kosher since it is honey-like and it may apply to the gezeiras hakusev applied to permit honey.

However, this is not true because royal jelly is a secretion from the bee, and it tastes different than honey. Some say it is not fit to be consumed by humans, in which case the jelly would be permitted, but this is not the case.

Bee Propolis Bee propolis has been around for thousands of years and is sold as a health supplement. It offers effective antibacterial, antiviral, antiseptic, antifungal, and antibiotic properties. It heals burn wounds, it is effective in treating gingivitis and bronchitis. It is sold as an ingredient in many products such as toothpaste, soaps, creams, mouthwashes, and lipsticks. One can see that bee propolis is very useful in many areas.

Propolis is a resin that bees collect on their legs from trees and use it in their hive as a sealant and for other purposes. They carry it on their hind legs. Some say that the bees add saliva and other secretions to the propolis.

Propolis is comprised of resins (45-55%), waxes and fatty acids (25-35%), essential oils (10%), pollen (5%), and other minerals (5%). The above portion of propolis is kosher. The question is in the other part of the chemical make-up of propolis. Even if one were to assume that the other 5%, which are minerals, are from non-kosher materials, since it is a non-food item it is butel b’rov. Since it is a non-food item, it is another reason to permit it just as beeswax.

If saliva is what the last 5% of the propolis are made from, then it is permitted since honey is made with some saliva from the bee. However, if the saliva would be forbidden, then the honey would be forbidden as well. The consensus among the contemporary poskim is that bee propolis is permitted.

Selected Halachos of Honey Beracha

The beracha on honey is a shehakol, and the beracha achrona is boreh nefoshos. Some say the reason is because it is something which does not grow from the ground, to which one recites a shehakol. Many times it is only eaten as a tafel and the beracha on the ikkur would exempt the honey from a beracha.

Rosh Hashanah and Honey Dipping

We all know since we were young that we dip the apple and challah into honey on Rosh Hashanah. This custom is not mentioned in the Gemorah or Geonim, but is nonetheless the overwhelming custom of Klal Yisrael. A few points worth addressing are: Why do we dip the apple in honey as opposed to other fruits? When do we do the dipping? Should we also dip the challah in salt as well as honey? Until when is the custom to dip challah into honey?

We will begin to discuss each one of the above in order as presented.

The reason for eating the honey on Rosh Hashanah is for us to have a sweet new year.

The custom of some is to dip an apple into a bit of honey, while others dip it three times. Some say that the dipping into the honey (and other simonim) is done on both nights, while others say it is only done on the first night. The custom of most people is according to the first opinion quoted. Some say dipping the apple in the honey is done after kiddush. The custom of many is to do this after washing and eating some bread. When we dip the apple in the honey, no beracha is made on the honey since the apple is the ikkur.

Some say dipping the apple is based on the reason of kabbalah. The Ben Ish Chai says many reasons for this; one which is understandable and does not seem to be based on kabbalah is the following: An apple has taste, it looks and smells nice, and this is a good sign for us on Rosh Hashanah. Many poskim say that the beracha on the fruit should be said and a bit should be eaten before reciting the customary yihi ratzon in order to avoid any hefsek between the beracha and the eating. B’dieved it is not a hefsek if the yihi ratzon was said before eating the apple.

Many have the custom to dip the challah into honey on Rosh Hashanah. Some have the custom to dip the challah into salt on one side and honey on the other.

The custom of many is to dip the challah into honey until Shemenei Atzeres.

Pesach

Potentially, honey can be adulterated with additives such as corn syrup (which is not eaten by those who do not eat kitniyos). Some honey producers have been found to mix the inexpensive corn syrup into honey, and illegally label and sell it as “pure honey,” with no mention of this almost undetectable “filler.” Although this practice is an exception, one should, nevertheless, only purchase pure honey for Pesach, with a reliable Pesachdik hechsher. This problem does not impact the use of honey during the rest of the year.

Bishul Akum on Honey

There are two basic exceptions which, if a food falls into any of these two categories, then the food is not subject to the halachos of bishul akum. The food may be cooked by a non-Jew and eaten by a Jew l’chatchilah. A food which can be eaten raw is permitted for a non-Jew to cook since the cooking is not changing the food because it can be eaten without the cooking.

The issur of bishul akum is limited to foods which are served on a king’s table (a.k.a. olah al shulchan melachim) to be eaten with bread or as an appetizer. The reason is since if the food is not fit to be served on a king’s table, one will not invite someone over to eat, we are not concerned for intermarriage, and since one will not invite someone over, we are not concerned of a non-Jew mixing non-kosher into the kosher food.

Since honey is edible raw, there is no concern of a non-Jew cooking it.

Wishing all of Klal Yisrael a Happy and Healthy Sweet New Year!!!

By Rabbi Gil Student

We believe, with complete faith, that Mashiach will come and we wait daily for his arrival. Does that mean that he can come any day? On the one hand, this is all a theoretical exercise. When he comes, he comes. We won’t tell him, “Sorry, it’s the wrong day.” However, the Sages discussed this, which means there is value in learning it.

I. When Can’t He Come?

Two Gemara passages imply that Mashiach cannot come any day, but they seem to contradict each other. The Gemara (Rosh Hashanah 10b-11a) quotes R. Eliezer as saying that Mashiach will come during the month of Tishrei. R. Yehoshua disagrees and says that Mashiach will come during the month of Nissan. At first glance, it seems that both R. Eliezer and R. Yehoshua believe that Mashiach can only come during one month a year but they differ on which month. Even if we are unsure who is correct, that leaves ten months during which Mashiach definitely cannot come. However, their views actually are more specific. The Gemara continues (ibid., 11b) by bringing prooftexts for each of the views. R. Eliezer bases his view that Mashiach will come in Tishrei on the verse, “And it shall come to pass in that day, that a great shofar shall be blown” (Is. 27:13). He connects that shofar with the shofar of Rosh Hashanah. R. Yehoshua bases his view that Mashiach will come in Nissan on the verse, “It is a night of watching (leil shimurim) for the Lord” (Ex. 12:42). The night of the Exodus is a night that is always special for redemption. It seems that R. Eliezer believes not just that Mashiach will come in Tishrei but on Rosh Hashanah, the day we blow shofar. And R. Yehoshua believes Mashiach will come the first night of Pesach, the leil shimurim. Those very specific predictions are problematic because of a different passage. The Gemara (Eruvin 43a-b) teaches that if someone vowed to be a nazir on the day that Mashiach comes, he may not drink wine any day because Mashiach might arrive on that day – except for Shabbos and holidays. Eliyahu will come the day before Mashiach and we have a tradition that Eliyahu will not come on the day before Shabbos or a holiday and disrupt people’s preparations. Since Eliyahu will not come on the day before Shabbos or a holiday, and he will come the day before Mashiach comes, therefore Mashiach will not come on Shabbos or a holiday.

II. Two Approaches

Rav Aryeh Leib of Metz (18th cen., France; Turei Even, Rosh Hashanah 11b) points out the contradiction. According to the Gemara in Eruvin, Mashiach will not come on a holiday. However, according to the Gemara in Rosh Hashanah, R. Eliezer believes Mashiach will come on Rosh Hashanah and R. Yehoshua believes he will come on Pesach, both of which are holidays. Rav Aryeh Leib offers two possible resolutions of this apparent contradiction: 1) Maybe someone who vows about the day Mashiach comes refers specifically to the daytime. If we do not merit Mashiach’s arrival due to our repentance and good deeds, he will come at a pre-determined time after the history of exile has run its course, at a special time during the year, either Pesach at night or Rosh Hashanah at night. However, if we earn a shorter exile, then Mashiach will come any day during the daytime but not during the daytime on Shabbos or a holiday. 2) Perhaps R. Eliezer and R. Yehoshua do not mean that the pre-determined time of Mashia ch’s arrival (if we do not merit it earlier) is specifically on the holidays of Rosh Hashanah and Pesach. Maybe they mean it will happen during the months in which Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur occur. In that way, Mashiach can come any day of the year except for Shabbos and a holiday if we earn it, otherwise in either Tishrei or Nissan, but not on Shabbos or a holiday. (See also Responsa Chasam Sofer, vol. 6 no. 88; Responsa Kesav Sofer, Orach Chaim, no. 53.)

III. Mashiach Is Not The Redemption

Rav Baruch Frankel-Te’omim (19th cen., Galicia; Glosses to Turei Even, ad loc.) distinguishes between the day of the redemption and the day Mashiach arrives. First Eliyahu will come. The next day, Mashiach will come. There will be a war and then there will be a day of redemption for all Jews around the world. The Gemara in Eruvin is discussing someone who vows to be a nazir when Mashiach comes, which could be any day except for Shabbos and a holiday. R. Eliezer and R. Yehoshua in Rosh Hashanah discuss when the final redemption will take place, whether on Pesach (Nissan) or on Rosh Hashanah (Tishrei). They are talking about different events so there is no contradiction. Rav Ya’akov Ettlinger (19th cen., Germany; Arukh La-Ner, Rosh Ha-Shanah 11b s.v. be-Nissan) follows a similar path by distinguishing between the redemption and Mashiach’s arrival. He notes the order of the blessings in the Shemoneh Esreh (as discussed in Megillah 17b). The blessing for the ingathering of exiles (teka be-shofar) comes before the blessing for Mashiach (es tzemach), implying the redemption will come first. However, Rav Ettlinger quotes a Zohar (Parashas Shemos) which says that Mashiach will come before the ingathering of exiles. He says that apparently we do not know clearly the order of events. Surprisingly, he does not quote Rambam (Mishneh Torah, Hilkhos Melakhim 12:2) who likewise says that we do not know the order of events. According to Rav Aryeh Leib’s first explanation, Mashiach can come on Rosh Hashanah at night (according to R. Eliezer) but not during the daytime. According to his second explanation, Mashiach can never come on Rosh Hashanah. According to Rav Frankel-Te’omim, Mashiach will not come on a Shabbos or a holiday. After Mashiach comes, the redemption will occur on Rosh Hashanah according to R. Eliezer or on Pesach according to R. Yehoshua. And according to Rav Ettlinger, the redemption might precede Mashiach’s arrival and will be on Rosh Hashanah according to R. Eliezer.

By Rabbi Joey Haber

I once flew to Miami for one night, to deliver a talk.

I returned to Brooklyn the next morning, taking a very early flight out of Miami. It was too early to pray Shaharit before the flight, so I had to pray after I arrived back in New York.

By the time I got to Brooklyn, it was around 9am. I figured it wouldn’t look right for a Rabbi to show up at a 9am minyan in a community synagogue, because people would not realize that I had just flown in from Florida, and would be unimpressed that I am praying so late in the day. I therefore decided to pray in an Ashkenazic synagogue, assuming that nobody there would know me.

I was there in the synagogue, and sure enough, in walks a fellow from our community, whom I knew.

Oddly enough, the first thought that went through my mind was, “What’s this guy doing at such a late minyan?! That isn’t right!” The fact that I was at a late minyan was understandable – I had just flown in from Miami. But the fact that he was at a late minyan initially struck me as improper… We have a natural tendency to look this way at other people’s behavior. Our initial reaction is negative and critical. Rather than think that maybe he was up all night with one of his children, or maybe he was working late, or maybe he, like me, just returned from a trip, did not immediately enter my mind. This is something to think about as we approach the judgment of Rosh Hashanah. The basic mitzvah of shofar on Rosh Hashanah requires blowing a series of teru’ah sounds, and a teki’ah sound before and after each teru’ah. Different opinions exist as to what the word “teru’ah” really means, whether the teru’ah is what we call a teru’ah, what we call a shevarim, or a combination of both. We therefore blow all these sounds in order to cover all possibilities.

We can gain deeper insight into the teki’ah and the teru’ah by looking at the situations in which these sounds were blown in the Torah. We read in the Torah that Moshe would blow a teki’ah in order to assemble the leaders, or the entire nation, to convey to them Hashem’s instructions. The teki’ah, a straight, smooth sound, thus has a positive association. The teru’ah, however, was blown when it was time for the people to embark on a journey, or to go out to war. This sound is thus associated with fear and uncertainty. Indeed, the Gemara says that the teru’ah simulates a crying sound, expressing anxiety and dread.

Taking this one step further, the Rabbis explain that the smooth teki’ah sound symbolizes Hashem’s attribute of kindness, while the “crying” of the teru’ah symbolizes Hashem’s attribute of strict justice. What we try to do on Rosh Hashanah is to “surround” the din (judgment) withchesed (kindness). Rosh Hashanah is a day of judgment, but we have the ability to “smother” the judgment with kindness, to earn Hashem’s grace and mercy as He judges us. This is the symbolism of the teru’ah surrounded on both sides by a teki’ah.

And one way we do that is by judging other people with grace and mercy. If we are kind and compassionate in the way we view other people, then Hashem is kind and compassionate in the way He views us. But if we judge other people critically, without giving them the benefit of the doubt or trying to understand why they act and speak the way they do, then this is how Hashem is going to judge us. Of course, this takes a good deal of effort, and a good deal of creativity. We need to train ourselves to come up with possible explanations in our mind for why people do what they do, rather than instinctively criticizing them. If we make this effort, and do everything we can to view other people in a favorable light, then Hashem will view us in a favorable light, as well, and inscribe us all in the book of life, health, happiness and prosperity, along with all Am Yisrael, Amen.

By Rabbi Yissocher Frand

The second Mishna of tractate Rosh Hashana teaches “On Rosh Hashana all who enter the world pass before Him (for judgment) like Bnei Maron” (sheep being counted). However, the Gemara there quotes an opinion that “Man is judged daily” [Rosh Hashana 16a]. At first glance, these two opinions seem to conflict with one another. Apparently, Judgment either occurs once a year or it occurs on a daily basis. The two opinions seem to be mutually exclusive.

Rav Eizele Charif tries to reconcile these statements by introducing the concept that that in reality, there are two types of judgment. When a person starts his year, it has been determined that he has certain abilities, a certain status, and certain physical and financial attributes. A status quo for the coming year is determined on Rosh HaShana. However, this “baseline” can be altered during the year — for better or for worse — based on the actions of the individual during the year. However, when we approach the judgment of the New Year, there is no status quo. We do not approach the Almighty with a presumption of what has been (chazaka d’m’ikara). We do not walk into Judgment on Rosh HaShana with the idea “I have been alive until now, I will remain alive this coming year; I have been healthy and wealthy until now, so it will all continue indefinitely during the coming year”. That is not a correct attitude on Rosh HaShana. During the year, our allotment and budget has already been determined. We have been budgeted a certain amount of dollars, and health, and success in our endeavors and we proceed to spend against that pre-determined budget, even though that budget can be raised or lowered within the parameters of “Man is judged daily”. However, when Rosh HaShana’s judgment for the New Year arrives, there is nothing that is a given.

Rav Pam once commented on the Penitential prayer that we say in Selichos prior to and during the Yomim Noraim, “Like paupers and beggars do we come before You, knocking on Your door.” The simple interpretation is that we are paupers because we do not have sufficient good deeds to our credit. However, Rav Pam says that it is to be interpreted literally — when we appear before the Almighty on Rosh HaShana we are penniless. What does it mean we are penniless? I have money in the bank, I have a portfolio, I have a house, and I have assets! What does it mean, “I’m a pauper”?

Rav Pam explains that it means that nothing is a given. We start out afresh. There are not any “chazakas”. “You were healthy until now, but today there is a fresh judgment regarding what is going to happen now and for the coming year.” “You had success until now. Today there is a fresh Judgment.”

The reason we do not tremble before the Yom HaDin is because it is very hard for us to actually believe this idea. If a person is 50 years old, he figures that he has been through all this previously and things always seem to remain fairly stable. He assumes “Look, I just went for a physical and the doctor says I am doing quite well.” “I have been in my business or profession for 30 years; some years I do a little better and some years a little worse, but I have always had a steady income. What do you mean that I might not have parnasa this coming year?” We tend to assume that we are going into the Day of Judgment with a strong status quo in our favor. That is not true. It is very difficult for us to internalize this concept but the status quo is not guaranteed. If we think about things we have seen and heard about during the past year, it will become all too clear how life can change in a minute. People are swept away by natural tragedies, by sudden changes of fortune, by unexpected diagnoses, and by unforeseen political changes. These sudden changes in one’s health or fortune or personal status are the most shocking things that can happen to a person. Yesterday, everything was wonderful. Overnight, things can change in such a way that a person is no longer able to function. However, such events do occur. That is the Day of Judgment of Rosh Hashana. There are no presumptions of status quo. We cannot be lulled into this false sense of security that we have been healthy, wealthy, and wise until now, presumably it will continue like that as well.

On Rosh Hashana, all bets are off. Like paupers and penniless people do we knock on Your doors. This is the reality. This is why the Din of Rosh Hashana is so awesome and scary.

By Rabbi Moshe Meir Weiss

Rosh HaShanah is upon us. Our fate and the fate of our loved ones is being written up by Hashem to be sealed on the upcoming Yom Kippur. The smart petitioner knows that the best way to ask Hashem for another good year is to give Him a good reason why He should treat us well. Let me share with you, my dear readers, a single kabalah / commitment, that could alter our entire way of living for the New Year. It is sure to please Hashem and influence Him to grant us a sweet New Year.

The great Ibn Ezra teaches us, “She’kol hamitzvos ikram haleiv – The essence of all the commandments is the heart that we put into them.” This echoes the famous Gemara in Sanhedrin [106b] and in the Zohar [3:281] which strongly state, “Rachmana liba bo – The Merciful One wants our hearts.” Shlomo HaMelech teaches this emphatically in Mishlei [23:26], “T’na beni libeich Li – Give (to Hashem) my son, your heart to Me.” The prophet Yirmiyahu rebukes us when we do things without thinking of Hashem, as it says in Yirmiya [2:8] with the powerful words, “Tofsei haTorah lo yida’uni – Those who hold on to the Torah (and they’re ‘frum’) don’t know Me.” If we are not careful, we can go through our lives practicing Torah and mitzvos but neglect the essence, which is the connection with Hashem. As the great Rav Moshe Chaim Luzzato, zt”l, zy”a, proclaims, “Hashleimus ha’amiti hu rak hadveikus bo Yisborach – The true perfection of life is when we achieve connection with Hashem. And this is what Moshe Rabbeinu emphasizes to us: Life boils down to, “Mah Hashem Elokecha shoel mei’imach, ki im liyira – What does Hashem ask from you but that you should see Him and be aware of Him.” This is the objective that we pray for in the tefillah of U’va l’Tzion: V’yaseim b’libeinu ahavso v’yiraso v’la’asos r’tzono ul’avdo b’leivav shaleim, l’ma’an lo niga larik – Please put in our heart the love and awareness of Hashem, that we understand that we are doing His will to serve Him with a whole heart so that we should not toil in vain.” In this prayer we also supplicate succinctly, “V’hachein l’vavam Eilecha – Direct our hearts to You.” Let our lot not be with those that the Navi Yishaya chastises. Let not your mitzvos be merely, “K’mitzvas anashim m’limudo – Commandments done robotically and just out of habit.”

Now, let’s get practical. Here’s my suggestion to you. Ask yourself, “How often during the day do I think about Hashem?” Remember, we say at the end of Bentching, “V’dor’shei Hashem lo yach’sru chol tov – Those who seek out Hashem (by thinking about Him) will not lack from any good.”

Don’t worry! I’m not going to leave you without suggestions. Rather, I’m going to take you on my own personal journey of how I am working to think more often about Hashem.

Let’s start first with the mezuzah. Here’s my strategy. Try to do this drill five times a day. We pass scores of mezuzos every day. Here’s the discipline. Do this before you kiss the mezuzah. Because once we kiss the mezuzah, it’s just another reflexive act done without thought. Let’s pick a mezuzah-moment: You’re returning home from work, from shopping, or from exercising and you encounter the mezuzah at the entrance to your home. Before kissing the mezuzah, reflect upon the fact that the mezuzah represents the true Title and Deed to your home for it really belongs to G-d. Thank Hashem for allowing you to live in this home. Then, give the mezuzah a kiss. Now, that was an exciting moment with Hashem.

At another time during the day, when you enter your kitchen, before kissing the mezuzah, ponder that Hashem will watch you while you are eating, will protect you from choking, and will help you with your digestion. Then, kiss the mezuzah. Another time, before entering the kitchen, you might focus on the fact that you have a well-stocked refrigerator and never lack for food. Rav Vichtig of Queens told me that in his youth, poverty was so great that there were times when he went to bed without eating. He couldn’t sleep because of hunger pains. Today, we don’t know about such things. The only situation we have is deciding what we should eat. Perhaps a plum, an ice-cream sandwich, yogurt, or some cold cuts. For this, we should surely thank Hashem for, before kissing the mezuzah. Likewise, when we enter our master bedroom, if we’re married, we can thank hashem for the blessing of having a partner. If we are unmarried, we can thank Hashem for a comfortable bed and for the blessing of sleep. Then, kiss the mezuzah. These are all glorious moments with Hashem.

A man who ties the tefillin to his arm and head has a wonderful opportunity to meditate on connecting his mind and his heart to his Creator. For when we put on tefillin, we are putting Hashem upon us. As the Gemara in Menachos says, “Hashem aleihem yichyu – When Hashem is upon them, (those who wear tefillin), they will live.”

Shabbos is a wonderful time to think about Hashem for it is the day that we reflect and acknowledge that the world did not come about from a big bang or evolve during millions of years. The world was created by Hashem in six days and He rested on the Shabbos. It is the day that we desist from any creative labor whatsoever, to remember once a week that we have a Boss in heaven Who can tell us what to do and what not to do.

When we daven properly, we take three steps forward to enter Hashem’s Palace and we can connect directly with Hashem. Our daily 100 brachos are 100 wonderful opportunities to meditate about Hashem as long as we slow down and say meaningfully, “Baruch Attah Adona-i,” thanking Hashem for all our blessings. Every day, we open our eyes and say hello to Hashem with the declaration, “Modah ani L’fonecha, thanking Him for another day of life and we end our day with “Shema Yisroel, Hashem Elokeinu, Hashem Echad,” declaring the Oneness of Hashem. What a wonderful commitment for Rosh HaShanah, when we once again coronate Hashem as our King, to tell Hashem that we plan to think about Him on a regular basis in the coming year. In this merit, we are sure to get the blessing of the verse, “B’chol drachecha dei’eihu – In all your ways you should acknowledge Him, “V’Hu siyasher orchosecha – And He will make straight your path.”

(My wife, Shoshy Weiss, LCSW-R, is offering “IFS Inner Circle,” a small group for women, limited to 7 participants, for authentic sharing, connection, and growth through the IFS method. Registration is now open. Beginning after Sukkos (date TBD), the group will meet once a week for 75 minutes. For more information and to see the full ad, call/text 845-270-3699 or visit ShoshyWeissIFSTherapist.com.)

As we conclude the year of 5786, I’d like to thank the The Jewish Press for spreading my words of Torah to Jews all over the globe, and to wish my dear readers and families to be inscribed in the Book of Good Health, Happiness, Sweetness, and Everything Wonderful.

APPLE CIDER DONUT CAKE

INGREDIENTS:

For the Cake:
Yellow cake mix
3/4 cup apple cider
1/4 cup water
1⁄2 cup apple sauce
3 eggs
1 tbsp brown sugar
1 tsp vanilla
1/8 cup cinnamon
1⁄4 cup sugar
1⁄4 cup melted margarinE
For the Dipping Glaze
1 cup powdered sugar
1⁄4 cup apple cider

DIRECTIONS:

In a large mixing bowl, beat the dry cake mix, apple cider, apple sauce, water, and eggs.Add in the
brown sugar and vanilla to the cake mix batter. Pour mix into a well greased 7” bundt pan. Preheat
oven to 350 degrees. Place bundt pan on center rack and bake for 45 minutes. Test with a toothpick
by sticking into the middle of the cake, if it comes out clean it is ready. Remove from heat and allow
to cool on a wire rack for 20 minutes.
Apple Cider Dipping Glaze: While the cake is cooking, prepare apple cider glaze. Add powdered sugar and remaining apple cider
to a small bowl and whisk to desired consistency. In a separate bowl. Mix cinnamon with sugar.
Once the cake has cooled, brush the entire surface with melted margarine. Rub cinnamon sugar mixture until evenly coated.
Serve warm with apple cider glaze dip (or drizzle glaze on top of the cake) and enjoy!

STUFFED CABBAGE

INGREDIENTS:

3 lbs chopped meat
1 cup rice uncooked
1 cup water
Salt, pepper, garlic, onion to taste
1 Head frozen and defrosted
cabbage
Sauce
3 16 oz cans tomato sauce
1⁄2 cup duck sauce
1⁄2 cup ketchup

DIRECTIONS:

Combine meat, rice, water and seasonings. Mix well. Separate leaves from cabbage.
Form a small log of meat and place in cabbage leaf. Roll up. Repeat for remainder of
meat and cabbage. Combine sauce ingredients in large stock pot and bring to low
simmer. Add cabbage rolls to sauce. Cover and simmer on low flame for 2 1⁄2 to 3
hours. Alternatively, you can also cook in the oven but I prefer it on the stovetop.

FIG AND BALSAMIC GLAZED CHICKEN

INGREDIENTS:

chicken
3/4 cup fig preserves
1/4 cup balsamic vinegar
1/4 cup water
salt, pepper, garlic and
rosemary
figs

DIRECTIONS:

This amazing delicious chicken dish comes together in just a few minutes.
Perfect for Rosh Hashanah and all your holiday entertaining.
Season chicken with salt, pepper, garlic and rosemary
Mix 3/4 cup g preserves with 1/4 cup balsamic vinegar and 1/4 cup water. Rub
into chicken. Add some freshly cut gs
Bake in 350 degree oven uncovered for 1.5 hours.

APPLESAUCE CAKE

INGREDIENTS:

1 box yellow cake mix 
1 (3.4 ounce) package instant
vanilla pudding mix
1⁄2 teaspoon ground nutmeg (you
can totally leave out if you don’t
have or don’t like nutmeg)
1⁄2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 cup applesauce
1⁄4 cup vegetable oil
4 eggs
1⁄2 cup water

DIRECTIONS:

Applesauce cake – sounds weird right? But trust me – this cake is so moist and
delicious – no one needs to know that it starts with a cake mix! Easy to make and
delicious. Make it for Shabbos this week- you won’t regret it.
Preheat oven at 350 degrees F. Spray bundt pan with baking spray
In a large bowl, stir together cake mix, instant pudding mix, nutmeg, and cinnamon.
Add the applesauce, oil, eggs and water. Blend for 3 to 4 minutes using an electric
mixer. Pour into prepared pan.
Bake for 50 to 55 minutes in the preheated oven, or until a toothpick inserted in the
center comes out clean.

By Rabbi Elimelech Biderman

During Aseres Yemei Teshuvah, some people ask for a drop more money, or a little bit more success, etc.

But we can ask for so much more, and Hashem will give it to us. This is the time when our tefillos are answered. And as the Aruch l’Ner writes, our tefillos at this time will certainly be answered. Therefore, why shouldn’t we ask for a lot?

Rebbe Naftali of Ropshitz zt’l told the following story: An enemy soldier aimed and shot his rifle at Czar Nicolai. A soldier loyal to Nicolai saw this and shouted loudly. Because of the shout, Nicolai’s horse jumped. This saved Nicolai’s life, as the bullet hit the horse instead of Nicolai himself. “You saved my life,” Nicolai said to the soldier. “Your shouts caused the horse to leap, and that saved me. How can I repay you?”

The soldier replied, “I don’t get along well with the commander of my unit. I want to be moved to a different brigade.” “No problem,” Nicolai said. “Your request will be fulfilled. But you are a fool, because you could have requested so much more, and I would have given it to you. You could have asked to be the general, and I would have granted that to you.” Rebbe Naftali of Ropshitz zy’a taught that people are just as foolish when they ask for small things from Hashem. They can ask for so much more, and Hashem will grant it to them.

The Midrash tells a story that happened when Alexander Mokdon came to Eretz Yisrael. A Yid came forward, greeted Alexander, and blessed him.

Alexander rewarded him with a city. Alexander’s servants asked, “He is a poor man. He would be satisfied with a smaller present too. Why did you give him a city?” Alexander replied, “When one gives a present, it should be a present in the eyes of the giver, and not according to the perception of the receiver.”

The Lev Simchah zt’l repeated this Midrash and explained that when Hashem gives us presents, it should also be according to how Hashem understands the notion of a present.

As we say in Tefillas Tal (said on Pesach): “Friend, according to Your assessments, establish our name.” This means that Hashem should give us kindness as He understands kindness, for that will be a much greater kindness than when it is given according to our limited perception.

By Rabbi Aryeh Lebowitz

And they spoke to him (Yaakov) all of Yosef’s words that he spoke to them, and he saw the wagons that Yaakov sent to carry him, and the spirit of Yaakov

their father was brought to life!

Bereishis 27:27

Publishing a sefer involves a tremendous amount of hard work and dedication. When all that effort finally culminates in receiving the first copy of the book, there is an incredible sense of joy and accomplishment. On such an occasion, should the author recite shehecheyanu? Should he make a seudah? And would it make a difference if the book is published during the Nine Days (between Rosh Chodesh Av and Tisha B’Av)?

Two Reasons to Recite Shehecheyanu

There are two possible reasons to argue that a person should recite shehecheyanu when he publishes a sefer. First, the Tur (Y.D. 270) quotes his father, the Rosh, that it is a mitzvah for every Jew to publish sefarim. He understands that the goal of the mitzvah to write a sefer Torah is to facilitate Torah learning, and therefore he expands the obligation to include all sefarim, including chumashim, mishnayos, gemaras, etc. This is accepted l’halacha in the Shulchan Aruch (Y.D. 270:2). Thus, when someone publishes a book, in addition to the general mitzvah of studying and spreading Torah, he fulfills the special mitzvah of publishing a Torah book. Moreover, the Rema (Y.D. 28:2) writes that when one shechts an animal for the first time, he should recite a shehecheyanu when performing the mitzvah of kisuy hadam, and it is logical to assume that the Rema would say the same thing the first time a person fulfills any mitzvah for the first time. On the other hand, the Mechaber writes (O.C. 22:1) that one who puts on a tallis for the first time should recite a shehecheyanu, but only because it is no less than what would be required for any other new garment. This implies that the Mechaber, unlike the Rema, holds that the mitzvah itself is insufficient to require a shehecheyanu.

The Magen Avraham (1), though, suggests that there is a difference between a common mitzvah (tzizis), which would not warrant a shehecheyanu upon its initial performance, and a rare mitzvah (kisuy hadam), which would warrant a shehecheyanu. On the other hand, the Taz (1) suggests that one always recites a shehecheyanu on a new mitzvah, as does the Shach (Y.D. 28:5). Based on this discussion, everyone would seem to agree that one should recite a shehecheyanu on publishing a new sefer, since this would be a fulfillment of a rare mitzvah.

Second, the Sefer Chasidim (1020) writes that when one finishes a “melacha gedolah” — “a great project,” even when it’s not a mitzvah, he should recite shehecheyanu. Thus, besides the consideration for the mitzvah that is fulfilled when publishing a sefer, the joy of completing the book with all the work involved should be enough reason to say shehecheyanu.

The Poskim

Many poskim write that a person should in fact say shehecheyanu when he publishes a sefer, though some are hesitant. Rav Yaakov Emden (Mor U’Ketziah 263) writes that there is certainly a chiyuv to recite a beracha, since there is no greater joy in this world than simchas HaTorah, and the writing and publishing of a sefer brings incredible joy. Similarly, the Netziv (Ha’Amek She’eilah 171) recommends reciting shehecheyanu when finishing a sefer, and he goes on to elaborate on what each word of the beracha means in the context of the joy of Torah. The Minchas Elazar (4:65) also writes that he would recite a shehecheyanu with shem u’malchus whenever he completed a new volume. In the introduction to the Minchas Yitzchak, Dayan Weiss rules that one who writes a sefer is in fulfillment of v’atah kisvu lachem and should say a shehecheyanu upon doing so, just as would one who completes a sefer Torah.

The Chida writes in his commentary to the Sefer Chasidim that based on what the Sefer Chasidim, as cited above, says, one who finishes a sefer must recite a beracha, but the Chida himself is unsure, and suggests reciting it without shem u’malchus. The Shut Yad Yitzchak (2:259) also argues that one should not recite shehecheyanu when completing a sefer, because he cannot be certain about the quality of his Torah or whether it will be accepted in the community. Similarly, the Kaf HaChaim (223:26) and Rav Elyashiv (m’pi ha’shemuah) both hold that one should only recite a shehecheyanu for a new sefer in the presence of a new fruit or garment, thereby removing the safek. Otherwise, he should say it without shem u’malchus.

However, even if there is no obligation to recite shehecheyanu when publishing a sefer, there is a strong argument that it is permissible and not a beracha l’vatalah. As a general rule, the Bach (29) writes that if one feels an overwhelming sense of joy and wants to recite a shehecheyanu, he is permitted to say it even if he is not technically obligated to do so. He explains that shehecheyanu is the exception to the general rule that one may not recite a beracha unless mandated by Chazal.

Similarly, the Yeshuos Yaakov (225:3) writes that the rule of “safek berachos l’hakel” does not apply to shehecheyanu, and that if one feels any safek as to whether he should say it, it is a sign that he should do so.

The Three Weeks and Nine Days

Although there is a custom not to purposefully do something that would require one to recite shehecheyanu during the Three Weeks, if a situation presents itself that warrants the beracha, one should say it. Thus, for those who maintain that one says a beracha on a new sefer it would be true during the Three Weeks as well. Additionally, Rav Yaakov Emden argues that since a sefer brings joy not just to the author, but to all who will learn from it, the correct beracha is not shehecheyanu, but hatov vehameitiv, which is said on good tidings and events that affect more than one person. If this is the correct beracha, there certainly is no problem reciting it during the Three Weeks. We avoid shehecheyanu because we don’t want to thank Hashem for specifically bringing us to “this time,” but there is no objection to reciting hatov vehameitiv, as it makes no mention of the time period.

The joy that accompanies the publishing of a sefer may also be sufficient reason to allow one to eat meat as part of a seudah during the Nine Days. The Teshuvos Tiferes Shmuel (55) writes that one who completes a sefer on erev Pesach is permitted to have a seudah instead of fasting. This would seem to indicate that one would also be permitted to eat meat at the seudah if it takes place during the Nine Days. Similarly, the Teshuvos Chikekei Lev (Y.D. 56) writes that one who finishes a sefer is permitted to have a seudah, even if it is in the middle of his aveilus or on a day when he would have to fast. He adds that even one who merely edits, lays out, or sponsors the sefer is permitted to eat on such an occasion. Some argue that according to the authorities that if one cannot make a shehecheyanu with shem u’malchus for a new sefer, a person could also not make a seuda with meat during the Nine Days. This is especially true according to the Yad Yitzchak, who argued that we cannot be certain of the level of the Torah in the sefer and therefore should not make a beracha on it. Nevertheless, considering that the minhag is to permit eating meat during the Nine Days for a siyum, regardless of whether the mesayeim has truly mastered the mesechta, it stands to reason that one who completes a sefer should be permitted to do so as well.

By Rabbi Dr. Yaakov Abramovitz

Teshuvah requires a supporting “cast”

As Rosh Hashanah approaches, we are reminded that sincere teshuvah requires serious introspection and conscientious planning for a better year. The shofar alerts us that the time has come: We need to confess our wrongdoings, break habits, regret the past, and commit to a brighter future. And if all that sounds too hard, don’t worry about it – just feed your sins to the fish.

Wait – what?!

How does Tashlich work? How can we “throw our aveiros away” – just like that? Where is the hard work and commitment?

I once heard from Rabbi Dovid Orlofsky shlita that Tashlich is not, in and of itself, an act of repentance. Instead, it is the symbolic gesture we perform to inspire ourselves to begin the daunting teshuvah process at this critical time.

It can feel overwhelming to approach Hashem with a mental list of all the things for which we need to seek atonement, all the ruts we hope to escape from. And with year after year of failed resolutions, too many regressions back into old ways, we may feel that it is impossible to really change. We are at risk of throwing up our hands and declaring it a lost cause. We resign ourselves to a dreadful realization: “Maybe I am not capable of change; maybe this is just who I am.”

What is the answer to these all-too-familiar feelings?

Tashlich!

We arrive at the riverbank, sins in hand, and declare that we have the ability to throw them into the depths of the water. This allows us to externalize our aveiros; they are not intrinsic to our identities. Despite how many times we have struggled to shake off these patterns of behavior, they never truly become part of our inherent selves. We would never – could never – throw our arms or legs into the river; we are too attached to our bodies. The ritual of casting our mistakes to the fish forces us to declare, “No, these aveiros are not who I am. They are just habits that I have been holding. I can cast them away any time that I want – just like that!”

Because we often do not feel this way naturally, Tashlich helps evoke this perspective of optimism. If we can properly internalize this message of Tashlich, then we can be instilled with hope that we do, in fact, have the ability to change. While it may not be a formal act of teshuvah, Tashlich emboldens us with the confidence to start the process of genuine self-improvement as we begin the new year!

By Chaya Sora Jungreis-Gertzulin

This Erev Rosh HaShana marks twenty-five years since 9/11. For those of us who lived it, it is a day that will forever be etched in our hearts. The images of the burning towers are hard to forget. It is a moment in time when we will always remember where we were as we heard the news of the planes striking the World Trade Center.

It was a crisp, early autumn day. The sky was a beautiful clear blue. All was right in the world… or so we thought. I had jury duty and was on my way to Court Street in Brooklyn. After settling in, my number, amongst others, was called up to receive instructions. Honestly, like so many others, I was wondering what I could say to get out of it.

Just minutes later, someone came running in. We heard the panic in her voice as she screamed out that the towers were hit. At first, it was hard to grasp. It sounded surreal. How could it be. And then, reality set in. The wailing sirens of firetrucks, police cars and ambulances pierced the walls of the courtroom. One of the potential jurors cried out, “Pray. Pray to your G-d, however He may be. But pray.”

Everyone tried to call their loved ones, myself included, as my husband worked in the Wall Street area. But it was to no avail, as there was no cell service. So many questions, so many worries, and no answers. The court proceedings came to a halt before they even started. All the jurors were dismissed and told to go home. But that was easier said than done. The subways were shut down. Taxis were nowhere to be found, and the few busses that were running had massive crowds pushing to board. Thus began my seemingly endless walk home, some five miles away. Many others were walking as well, but it was an eerie silence, each person alone with their thoughts, their worries, and their prayers. 9/11 was exactly one week before Rosh HaShana. I remember the plumes of smoke still rising into the air as our family went into Manhattan for the annual HINENI Rosh HaShana program. The atmosphere in shul that Rosh HaShana was more somber than at any other time I could remember. The events of the past week weighed heavily on all.

When my husband, who was our baal tefilla, reached the words of U’nesaneh Tokef, one of the most stirring and heartrending prayers of the Days of Awe, you could almost feel the trembling in the room.

“Who will live and who will die; who by water and who by fire…” That was 2001. Fast forward a quarter of a century. We are now in 2026. The words of U’nesaneh Tokef are part of our tefilla, but we tend to think that we will be spared.

Who could have imagined that all these haunting words are today’s news. “Who will live and who will die; who by water and who by fire; who by sword and who by beast; who by famine and who by thirst; who by storm and who by plague; who by strangulation and who by stoning; who will enjoy tranquility and who will suffer; who will be impoverished and who will be enriched…” Today, we are living through not one, but all of these happenings. Acts of terrorism, mass shootings, senseless wars, storms, earthquakes and volcanic eruptions, hurricanes, tornadoes, tsunamis and flash flooding, wildfires, hunger and drought, crime and murders, financial upheaval. More than a millennium ago, the navi Amos rang the alarm bells. “Can a shofar be blown in a city and the people not tremble?” (Amos 3:6) It is said that the wail of the shofar is like the plea of a child to his father. “Please, Avi, my Father, HaShem, help. I need You.”

The cry of the shofar penetrates our soul. As the Rambam teaches, “Uru yesheinim mishnaschem, Wake up you sleepers from your slumber.” Both Amos and generations later, Rambam, see the shofar as a spiritual wake-up call. We must listen to the shofar, and allow its piercing cry to be our internal alarm clock. Our “shofar within”. To wake up, open our eyes, and smell the coffee. To look at the world around us, reflect upon our lives, and focus on the lessons we must internalize.

The shofar calls out to us in so many different ways. On a personal level, it awakens in us the slumbering neshama. It reminds us that HaShem gives us the wherewithal to remove a harsh decree through teshuva, tefilla and tzedaka. Additionally, Amos speaks about the shofar calls in our cities. 9/11 was a major shofar call. Our wake-up call to the rise of worldwide terrorism and anti-Semitism. At first, we trembled, but with time, we quieted our fears. We calmed our inner voice. We became complacent and comfortable with our lives. We told ourselves that terrorism only happens in Eretz Yisroel, that in America we are safe.

Even in Israel, those living in Yerushalayim, Tel Aviv, Haifa, and Netanya would say, not by us, only by the border towns. And even those in the southern border towns felt safe. Not by us, after all, we hire Palestinians to work in our kibbutzim. We are friendly. We cross the border and bring in those in need for medical treatment.

And then came October 7. We believed we were safe and secure until something jolted us awake. A deafening shofar call. Wake up. Terrorism is everywhere. In the south of Israel and the north. Even in the main cities. In France and England. In Belgium and Spain. In Australia and South America. In the US and Canada. It is global. HaShem is sending us shofar calls – warnings. We only have to heed the three-word formula written in the machzor.

“U’teshuva, u’tefilla, u’tzedakah, Repentance, prayer and charity, remove the harsh decree.”

Before the baal tokea blows the shofar, he recites a bracha, “lishmoa”, to hear the sound of the shofar. As the Rambam teaches, it is a mitzva to listen to the sounding of the shofar – even for the one who is blowing. Lishmoa, to listen and internalize. To take it one step further and let the cry of the shofar make a difference in our life.

This Rosh HaShana, may the sound of the shofar be the voice of emuna. The hope and belief that we will soon realize the words of the navi Yeshayahu, “Vehaya bayom hahu, and it will be on that day, yitaka b’shofar gadol, that a great shofar will be blown…” (Yeshayahu 27:13). The day we will merit to hear the shofar gadol, the great shofar of Moshiach.

The question isn’t whether the shofar is sounding. The

When Rabbi Shmuel Silber steps into the role of executive vice president of the Orthodox Union this November, he will be assuming one of the most consequential rabbinic leadership positions in American Orthodox Jewish life.

But he will not be doing so alone.

As Rabbi Silber prepares to take on the OU’s EVP role in November, Rabbi Dr. Josh Joseph, who previously served as executive vice president and chief operating officer, will become the organization’s chief executive officer. The new leadership structure is designed to create clearly defined areas of responsibility, with Rabbi Silber focusing on Torah, public policy, hashkafic and halachic guidance, while Rabbi Joseph oversees the management, business, strategy, and professional operations of the OU.

In an exclusive interview with the Jewish Vues, Rabbi Silber spoke at length about his new role, his relationship with the late Rabbi Moshe Hauer, zt”l, his vision for the OU, the importance of Ahavas Yisrael and achdus, and his plans to spend his first months listening and learning.

Rabbi Joseph, in his own responses, offered insight into the new leadership structure, his relationship with Rabbi Silber, his memories of Rabbi Hauer, and his vision for where the OU can go in the years ahead.

Together, their comments provide a picture of an OU entering a new chapter while seeking to build on the tremendous foundation established by Rabbi Hauer.

Rabbi Silber does not see his new position simply as a new title, nor does he view himself as replacing the man who occupied the position before him.

Rabbi Moshe Hauer, zt”l, who served as the OU’s executive vice president from 2020 until his untimely passing last fall, was, in Rabbi Silber’s words, a “generational leader.” He was also Rabbi Silber’s close friend, mentor, and, in many ways, a guide to the responsibilities of communal leadership.

Rabbi Silber therefore approaches his new role with a combination of humility, reverence for the past, and an unmistakable sense of responsibility for the future.

“I am not filling Rabbi Hauer’s shoes,” Rabbi Silber says. “Rabbi Hauer’s shoes cannot be filled.”

What he hopes to do instead is continue the derech Rabbi Hauer established.

That distinction goes to the heart of Rabbi Silber’s approach to leadership. He does not speak primarily about power, prestige, or institutional authority. He speaks about Ahavas Yisrael, achdus, Torah, spiritual growth, and service to Klal Yisrael.

For more than two decades, Rabbi Silber has served as the rabbi of Suburban Orthodox Congregation Toras Chaim in Baltimore, transforming and growing a community into one of the city’s vibrant centers of Torah and communal life. He is the founder and dean of the Institute for Jewish Continuity, which provides contemporary Torah learning, incorporating Chassidic influences, to adults across a wide range of backgrounds and levels of observance.

His communal work has also extended beyond Baltimore. As founding rabbi of the Berger Towers community in Katamonim, Jerusalem, Rabbi Silber has been involved in providing rabbinic leadership and hashkafic direction to the community.

A musmach of Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary at Yeshiva University, Rabbi Silber also holds a master’s degree in secondary Jewish education from the Azrieli Graduate School. Over the course of his rabbinic career, he has had the privilege of learning from and building relationships with some of the leading Torah personalities of the contemporary Jewish world, including Rabbi Mordechai Willig, Rav Asher Weiss, Rabbi Aharon Feldman, Rabbi Yaakov Hopfer, Rabbi Boruch Neuberger, and others.

Now, after 23 years in Baltimore, Rabbi Silber is preparing to take his experience as a mara d’asra, educator, communal builder, and talmid chacham onto a national and international stage.

FROM EAST BRUNSWICK TO BALTIMORE

Rabbi Silber’s journey to the OU began far from the organization’s Manhattan headquarters.

He grew up in East Brunswick, New Jersey, and began his rabbinic career in Fair Lawn, New Jersey, where he served under Rabbi Benjamin Yudin. It was there, Rabbi Silber recalls, that he received not only his first experience in rabbanus but also an introduction to the responsibilities that come with serving a community.

After three and a half years in Fair Lawn, he and his family moved to Baltimore.

The timing was significant. Suburban Orthodox Congregation Toras Chaim had lost its previous rabbi, Rabbi Ervin Preis, zt”l, several months earlier.

More than two decades later, Rabbi Silber remains deeply connected to the community he came to serve.

“Baltimore is a fantastic community of Torah, of ruchnius, and of growth,” he says, describing a city filled with rabbanim, shuls, batei midrash, yeshivas, and communal leaders.

It was in Baltimore that Rabbi Silber developed much of his philosophy of communal leadership — one rooted in personal relationships, Torah, and an expansive conception of responsibility for the Jewish people.

That philosophy will now travel with him to the OU.

“RABBI HAUER’S SHOES CANNOT BE FILLED”

The circumstances surrounding Rabbi Silber’s appointment inevitably bring Rabbi Moshe Hauer to mind.

Rabbi Hauer’s sudden passing left a profound void in the Orthodox community. During his tenure at the OU, he emerged as a major public voice for American Orthodoxy, advocating on issues ranging from antisemitism on college campuses to support for Israel and the plight of the hostages following October 7.

But to Rabbi Silber, Rabbi Hauer was not simply an institutional leader.

He was his friend.

And he was his mentor.

“When I came to Baltimore a number of years ago, he was a couple of years older than me, but he really extended his hand to me as a chaver and as a mentor,” Rabbi Silber recalls.

Rabbi Hauer helped him navigate his first rabbinic position and taught him what communal leadership could look like. Over time, their relationship grew into one in which Rabbi Hauer became, in Rabbi Silber’s words, “almost like a rebbi in Jewish communal service.”

That makes stepping into Rabbi Hauer’s former position particularly meaningful.

Yet Rabbi Silber is emphatic that he does not intend to imitate him.

“Rabbi Hauer was a unique and singular personality,” he says. “I think he was a generational leader.”

Instead, Rabbi Silber sees Rabbi Hauer’s greatest contribution as having established a path for the OU’s future.

“What Rabbi Hauer did alongside Rabbi Joseph was create a derech. He created a vision. He showed the world, he showed the OU, what is possible with that seat of leadership.”

In that sense, Rabbi Silber says, he does not have to reinvent the position.

“He just has to be a mamshich.”

A continuer.

Rabbi Joseph, who worked alongside Rabbi Hauer for six years, describes their relationship in similarly personal terms.

“Rabbi Moshe Hauer, zt”l, was not just an esteemed colleague; he was a close friend and a mentor,” Rabbi Joseph says.

The two actually shared a unique connection from their roots. Both were born and raised in Montreal, and their parents lived literally a kilometer from one another, although they did not actually meet until both came to the United States.

“Over our years together, we developed an incredibly close relationship and shared leadership model,” Rabbi Joseph says. “We navigated many global challenges and the day-to-day challenges that come with an organization the size of the OU.”

Rabbi Joseph remembers Rabbi Hauer as “a magnificent and impactful public voice of Klal Yisrael,” whether testifying before Congress or delivering a shiur.“Working alongside him was a masterclass in profound Torah scholarship, extraordinary empathy, and unwavering commitment to the community,” he says.

Rabbi Hauer also had a phrase that Rabbi Joseph remembers particularly well: “Our eyes are bigger than our hands.”

The meaning, Rabbi Joseph explains, was that the vision for what can be accomplished for the Jewish people is boundless, but people are ultimately limited by the physical hands they have to do the work.

“When he passed away so unexpectedly last fall, it left our entire community in shock and created a devastating void,” Rabbi Joseph says.

That void has helped shape the OU’s new structure, but neither Rabbi Silber nor Rabbi Joseph sees the future as an attempt to duplicate the past.

Instead, the goal is to continue the mission while creating a leadership partnership suited to the OU’s future.

WHY THE OU?

For Rabbi Silber, the appeal of the OU is not primarily institutional.

It is the breadth of the organization’s reach.

He points to OU Torah, kiruv initiatives, advocacy, JLIC, OU Israel, and the organization’s many programs serving Jews throughout the United States and Israel.

And, of course, there is OU Kosher.

“The OU is at the forefront of spiritual development for Klal Yisrael,” Rabbi Silber says.

What impresses him most is the sheer number of Jews touched by the organization.

“When you look at the number of people across the world whose spiritual development is anchored in the programming that the OU does, it’s incredible.”

He also sees the organization’s work in Israel as evidence that the OU’s mission extends far beyond the American Jewish community.

He points to the work of OU in Israel including initiatives serving new olim, Anglo communities, and at-risk teens.

“This is an organization that’s transforming Jewish life wherever there is Jewish life,” Rabbi Silber says.

For him, joining the OU means becoming part of that broader mission.

“To be part of it, to just be part of this beautiful, holy enterprise, is the zechus of a lifetime.”

THE LEADERSHIP QUALITY HE VALUES MOST

Asked about his greatest strength as a leader, Rabbi Silber initially hesitates.

He is uncomfortable speaking about his own virtues.

Instead, he reframes the question.

The essential quality for a leader of the OU, he says, is Ahavas Yisrael.

The reason is simple: The OU is not merely serving an institution. It is serving Klal Yisrael.

“This is a leadership position for Klal Yisrael,” he says. “The OU has the ability to have a hashpa’ah, to really have an incredible influence on many different segments of the Jewish community.”

That influence, he believes, demands an unconditional love for one’s fellow Jew.

“For a leader to be effective in any way… is to have a love for your fellow Jew.”

It is a philosophy that also explains his emphasis on achdus.

Rabbi Silber repeatedly returns to the idea that Jewish communal leadership must bring people together rather than deepen divisions.

His aspiration is not simply for the OU to expand its programs or increase its reach.

He wants the organization to help elevate the spiritual life of the Jewish people.

LEARNING BEFORE LEADING

Rabbi Silber does not intend to arrive at the OU on his first day with a long list of changes.

His first priority is learning.

“The first thing I’m going to do is to learn,” he says.

The OU, he notes, is a massive organization with an enormous number of initiatives, departments, professionals, volunteers, and lay leaders.

Before deciding where he wants to make his mark, he wants to understand the people already doing the work.

He describes the OU as his “new kehillah.”

“I want to get to know the congregants, to get to know my new kehillah,” he says.

That means meeting the professionals throughout the organization, understanding its programs, learning its strategic plan, and developing relationships with his new partners.

Among those partners will be Rabbi Dr. Josh Joseph.

TWO LEADERS, TWO LANES

Rabbi Silber speaks enthusiastically about working alongside Rabbi Joseph.

The two men have known one another for years, but their relationship has deepened considerably during the period leading up to Rabbi Silber’s appointment.

Rabbi Joseph says they actually go back quite a ways, having overlapped in semicha and shared overlapping circles of friends. The process surrounding the new leadership structure, however, has allowed them to connect much more closely.

“I have begun to get to know Rabbi Silber well over the last couple of months during this process, and it has been an absolute pleasure,” Rabbi Joseph says.

What he has already seen in Rabbi Silber, he says, is particularly significant for the position he is about to assume.

“He is supremely talented at connecting with people and building deep, genuine relationships,” Rabbi Joseph says. “He has his finger on the pulse of the spiritual, emotional, and social needs of families and individuals and I’m excited to see that scale nationally.”

Rabbi Joseph explained that the change reflects the OU’s unique structure as a lay- leadership-driven organization.

“The OU is a lay-leadership driven organization, led by our senior lay leader, President Mitchel Aeder,” Rabbi Joseph said. “In order to help launch the organization forward, the board designed a new leadership structure to clearly define lanes of operation for the EVP and CEO.”

The two areas of responsibility differ, but Rabbi Silber sees them as deeply connected and offers a memorable description of the distinction.

“Rabbi Dr. Joseph is responsible for running the guf,” he says. “He’s responsible for running the body of the OU, and I… have the opportunity and the zechus to run the neshamah, to run the soul of the OU.”

The metaphor is more than clever terminology.

Rabbi Silber sees the two responsibilities as fundamentally interconnected.

“The soul can’t exist without the body, and the body can’t exist without the soul.”

He also expresses deep appreciation for what Rabbi Joseph has done since Rabbi Hauer’s passing, when Joseph was effectively carrying responsibility for the organization’s professional leadership.

Now, Rabbi Silber says, they can build something together.

He hopes the relationship will develop beyond an institutional partnership.

“Hopefully… what will become the best of friends.”

A FAMILIAR FACE AT OU KOSHER

Rabbi Silber will also work alongside Rabbi Moshe Elefant, who continues to lead OU Kosher.

For Rabbi Silber, the relationship carries a personal connection to the organization’s kashrus division.

During his years at Yeshiva University, Rabbi Silber studied Yoreh De’ah under Rabbi Menachem Genack, the longtime CEO of OU Kosher.

He remembers Rabbi Genack bringing stories from the world of OU Kosher into his shiur.

Now, Rabbi Silber will have an opportunity to see that world from the inside.

He is particularly interested in learning about the technology and infrastructure behind the organization’s global kashrus operation.

Rabbi Silber sees Rabbi Elefant and the kashrus team as critical partners in the broader mission of the OU.

A VOICE IN WASHINGTON

The OU’s national role also means that Rabbi Silber will increasingly find himself engaged in public policy and advocacy.

Asked what he would say if given the opportunity to sit down with President Donald Trump, Rabbi Silber’s first instinct is not to make a demand.

It is to express gratitude.

He says that leaders and organizations can sometimes focus primarily on what they wish a politician had done differently.

But, he argues, the Jewish community should also recognize allies.

“I think what we have in our President of the United States is an ally, is a supporter of the Jewish community here, a supporter of the State of Israel,” he says.

Were he sitting with the president, Rabbi Silber says, his first message would be one of hakaras hatov.

“Thank you.”

He would then offer a prayer that the president be granted the strength and moral clarity to continue supporting the Jewish people and the State of Israel.

It is another example of Rabbi Silber’s instinct to begin from appreciation rather than confrontation.

LOOKING FIVE YEARS AHEAD

While Rabbi Silber is emphasizing listening and learning as he begins his tenure, Rabbi Joseph is already focused on the opportunities ahead for the OU.

His vision begins with the fundamental goal of bringing more Jews closer to Hashem through Torah and mitzvos.

“This isn’t just about Orthodox Jews; it is about reaching across the breadth of Klal Yisrael with warmth, curiosity, and Jewish pride,” Rabbi Joseph says.

One major opportunity, he believes, is expanding youth engagement.

Through JSU, the Jewish Student Union under NCSY, the OU is actively working on plans to grow its engagement from approximately 20,000 teens a year to 40,000 and ultimately 100,000 teens annually.

Rabbi Joseph also points to the OU’s work through Teach Coalition, utilizing education tax credits to make Jewish education more affordable while expanding access to students who currently lack it.

Another major priority is deepening the Anglo-Israel experience.

“Just a few years ago, we had no campus couples in Israel,” Rabbi Joseph says. “Today, we have 17 JLIC couples on 11 campuses and in 4 young professional communities in Israel, serving the growing English-speaking community.”

The OU is also surveying more than 450 shuls in Israel that have 20 or more Anglo families in order to better understand and support their religious and spiritual vibrancy.

For Rabbi Joseph, achieving these goals will require the organization to think beyond individual departments and programs.

“We will need to work across our various organizational units treating our people, relationships, and data as shared enterprise capabilities all aligned in service of Hashem,” he says.

For Rabbi Silber, these broader goals fit naturally into the mission he hopes to advance through the OU’s spiritual leadership.

BALTIMORE WILL REMAIN HOME

Although the OU is headquartered in New York, Rabbi Silber does not intend to immediately leave Baltimore.

During his first year, he expects to spend several days a week at OU headquarters while continuing to work remotely from Baltimore.

Over time, he expects that his presence in New York may increase as the responsibilities of the position require.

For now, however, the community that has been his home for more than two decades will remain an important part of his life.

And perhaps that is fitting.

Rabbi Silber’s understanding of national Jewish leadership was formed through the experience of local rabbanus— through knowing congregants personally, building institutions, teaching Torah, navigating communal challenges, and developing relationships.

He now brings that experience to an organization serving communities far beyond Baltimore.

THE REBBEIM WHO SHAPED HIM

Rabbi Silber’s leadership philosophy did not develop in a vacuum.

He identifies Rabbi Mordechai Willig as his primary rebbi and someone to whom he continues to turn.

He also describes a close relationship with Rav Asher Weiss of Eretz Yisrael, particularly during the past period, when Rav Weiss helped guide him through significant decisions.

But Rabbi Silber’s list of influences is broad.

He speaks with appreciation about the rabbanim and Torah leaders with whom he has had relationships throughout his years in Baltimore, including Rabbi Aharon Feldman, Rabbi Yaakov Hopfer, Rabbi Boruch Neuberger, and Rav Sheftel Neuberger, zt”l.

He also confirms that he learned in Rav Hershel Schachter’s shiur at Yeshiva University for a year.

Yet when it comes to personal life questions, one relationship remains especially central.

“The person who I really ask my life shailos to is Rabbi Willig.”

WHAT WILL SUCCESS LOOK LIKE?

It might be tempting for a new leader entering such a prominent position to immediately announce an agenda.

Rabbi Silber resists that temptation.

He says it is too early to define success in concrete terms.

First comes learning.

Then comes agenda-setting.

Then comes measurement.

But beneath the institutional language, his personal definition of success is already clear.

He wants to strengthen achdus.

He wants to elevate the spiritual lives of Jews.

He wants to connect communities in America and Israel.

And he wants the OU to continue serving as a vehicle for those goals.

“I hope that more than anything, I will have Siyata Dishmaya,” he says.

Because ultimately, Rabbi Silber does not view the position as something he can accomplish through his own talents alone.

He views it as a shlichus.

“I would love to be able to do more than anything is to create achdus within the ranks of the Jewish people, to amplify the spiritual level… of Klal Yisrael.”

Rabbi Silber brings his own leadership style and vision to the role, while building on the strong foundation already in place.

He is not promising to remake the Orthodox Union.

He is not arriving with the claim that he alone possesses the answers to the challenges facing the Jewish people.

Instead, he speaks about continuing a derech, learning from those already doing the work, building relationships, loving every Jew, and asking for Siyata Dishmaya.

Rabbi Joseph, meanwhile, brings a deep familiarity with the OU’s operations and a vision for expanding the organization’s reach, particularly among young people, Jewish education, and the growing English-speaking community in Israel.

Their responsibilities may be different, but the stated goal is shared.

For a rabbi who has spent more than two decades building one community, Rabbi Silber’s next chapter will involve serving an entire network of communities.

And if Rabbi Silber’s own words — together with Rabbi Joseph’s vision for the organization — are any indication, the OU’s next chapter will be built around a partnership between Torah and professional leadership, between the neshamah and the guf, and ultimately around a shared commitment to serve Klal Yisrael.

Rabbi Silber intends to approach that enormous responsibility in the same way he approached rabbanus in Baltimore: with Torah, humility, Ahavas Yisrael, and a deep sense that leadership is ultimately a privilege to serve.

By Rabbi Reuven and Shira Boshnack

Dear Rabbi and Shira, Thank you for your column! I read it with my family every week and we enjoy discussing it! I am in a relationship with a wonderful young lady, and things are progressing well. I suffer from an anxiety disorder and am not sure at what point I should get engaged. In light of my condition, when is it responsible to start a life and family? -Scared to Start

Dear Scared to Start, It’s responsible of you to consider these things, and brave to talk about these things in the open! The more awareness that we have surrounding mental health and it its intersection with life and relationships, the more we can decrease the stigmas surrounding mental health, as well as create healthy relationships all around. People who have mental illnesses can have long-term strong, mutually supportive and healthy relationships!

Everyone’s specific situation is different, and we highly recommend you discuss these questions with a mental health professional.

Here are some points to consider.

Do you have episodes which incapacitate you? How long do they last? Are you able to sustain relationships with your family and friends? Have you had another girl friend? Were you able to sustain a relationship with her for a long period of time? Why did you break up? Were you anxious about making a commitment? If so, discuss this with a mental health professional.

Are you able to hold down a job that produces significant revenue? How long have you done that? Have you maintained your job with other stressors in place including a girlfriend and family stress? Do you have a backup plan in case you cannot meet your responsibilities due to debilitating episode? Will you have enough money to provide for your family during a relapse? Do you have supportive family?

While showing up to a date is an achievement, it is a small slice of your life. Your life with your spouse and your disorder is going to be more complicated. They will see you at your best and at your worst. You will not be able to hide symptoms from her, and she must have an honest understanding and assessment of your state.

Part of life as a responsible spouse includes the emotional and financial contributions you will make to your family. You must be able to meet the financial commitments, including rent/mortgage and utilities and of course tuition. If you cannot hold down a job due to the stress of having a job, or with the added family 0pressures of having a wife and children, you should discuss what skills or interventions you must make to enable yourself to do so.

Have you discussed your mental health condition with the young lady you are dating? At what point do you plan to? It is important to consider the ill will which concealing this from your future spouse will engender. This of course does not mean you should blurt it out on the first date, but after getting to know each other well, should be a topic of conversation, like all other matters of import as the dating becomes more serious.

As with any disclosure, people will respond differently. Some people won’t consider your mental health condition an issue. Everyone has struggles and that a long-term relationship means supporting each other through difficulties. Other people may not be able to handle their concerns, leading them to end the relationship. Lastly, a large proportion of people will respond to a partner’s mental illness with uncertainty or curiosity. As they learn more about the facts and your treatment plan, they’ll grow more comfortable and learn how to support you. A relationship can grow stronger through this process.

Rabbi Reuven and Shira Boshnack.

By Rabbi Moishe Dovid Lebovits

Everything that will take place this year was already decreed on Rosh Hashanah, so why daven?

There are many different approaches to answer this question, and many of them are based on material that was discussed in the preceding chapters. The main idea we will discuss here is that tefillah has the ability to change what was decreed on Rosh Hashanah.

Changing the Decree

Although Hashem decrees what will happen throughout the year, tefillah is a connection to Hashem that one gets even if he is not making a request. Furthermore, just because Hashem decreed that we should get something, this does not mean we will get it if we don’t ask for it. If it was decreed, for example, that we should have rain, it is possible that it will come at the wrong time unless we daven that it should come at the right time. The following scenario can explain this concept: When a person opens a bank account, the only way to withdraw a large sum of money is with the approval of a bank manager. Once he gets permission, he will receive the amount of money he wants to withdraw. Davening is the “money” we receive, but if we don’t ask for it, we won’t get it. Although the money is in the “account” from when Hashem decrees it on Rosh Hashanah, there is no way to access it without asking Hashem for permission and davening for it.

In the tefillos of the Yamim Nora’im, we say that through teshuvah, tefillah, and tzedakah, the decree can change. The Zoharsays that if a person pours out tears before Hashem, even if there is a decree for punishment, it is ripped up. The Gemara says that screaming in tefillah is beautiful before and after the decree is determined. Tosfas says that the decree of the tzibbur can be ripped up.

Others say that we are all born with a certain mazel that determines whether we will be smart, tall, short, experience pain, and so on. Every person must experience certain things as part of his lot in life. In addition, a person can be punished for things he did. Although we know that everything is for the best, we still daven that tribulations should end. Isn’t this a contradiction?

When we daven, it’s in order to change the punishment but not the mazel. Davening can make the punishment go away, but it won’t change one’s mazel.

A Sword Resting on One’s Throat

The Gemara says that even if a sword is resting on one’s throat, he should not refrain from asking for mercy. Even if one is told in a dream that tomorrow he will die, he should not stop asking for mercy. This is different than the Gemara mentioned above that since a dream is part of nevuah, in essence the decree was set. Yet still, one should daven. The Me’iri says that even if a decree is set on Rosh Hashanah, it can be annulled through teshuvah. If an individual is in trouble and needs help, he can daven even though his future may have already been decided. The Steipler Gaon says that human action and segulos will not change what was decreed on Rosh Hashanah. Only tefillah and teshuvah can change the decree.

Yitzchak Avinu had to daven in such a way that he could “break” nature in order that Rivkah should conceive. From here we see that tefillah can change even that which was decreed, and we must do our part to daven.

The pasuk says that Yaakov Avinu took sword and bow. Targum Onkelos says that this refers to different methods of tefillah. Why didn’t the pasuk simply enumerate the different methods of tefillah? The Torah is teaching us a lesson: the only method we have to fight off an enemy, whether physical or spiritual, is tefillah.

Judged Each Day

The Tzidkas Hatzaddik says that although we know that what is decreed for us that year is set on Rosh Hashanah and sealed on Yom Kippur, in order for the good part of the gezeirah to be implemented, one must daven each day. Otherwise, one will not get what he asked for on Rosh Hashanah. In a way, davening is the way we do our part. In addition, although a decree is issued on Rosh Hashanah, there is an opinion that one is judged each day. Because of this, we must daven every day. By doing so, one can rip up the decree that was set on Rosh Hashanah.

Three Kinds of Decrees

The Pele Yoetz says that there are three types of decrees. One type of decree cannot be helped by tefillah, which means that even after one does everything he can to get rid of it, it still remains. Another decree is meant for a short time and will be taken away even without tefillah. The third decree is set and will only be rescinded if one davens that it should be taken away. One should therefore view himself as being in this third category. He should always daven, especially since most decrees fall into this category.

Why Daven if Some People Have Everything without Davening?

A common difficulty people have with davening is seeing others who may not be the best daveners being blessed with wealth, health, and nachas. If this person doesn’t daven properly but has everything, why should we make an effort to daven? The first thing to remember is that Hashem has His ways. Just because other people get what they need without davening does not mean we should be doing this as well. In addition, the main purpose of davening is the connection with Hashem. A person who does not daven and still has what he needs is missing out on the most important relationship in his life. It’s also possible that the merits of this person are minimized because his needs are granted without him asking for them. Furthermore, no one can know what goes on behind closed doors. It’s impossible to know what pain one may be experiencing even if he looks like everything is fine.

As mentioned above, Hashem desires our tefillos. If everyone who davened well got what they needed, and all those who did not daven did not get what they needed, there would be no test for us to daven. Therefore, Hashem may give things to people who do not daven as a way to test others to see if they will daven. Furthermore, other people may be davening for those who do not daven, and this may be the cause of the good that these individuals receive.

When people receive a livelihood without asking for it through tefillah, they are like animals being fed by Hashem. They lack a relationship with Hashem and are no different than a young child who is fed without asking for it. There is no reason to be jealous of such people. We have the ability to ask and beseech from Hashem and build a constant relationship with Him.

What a zechus!

By Rabbi Gil Student

I. Undistinguished Fathers

A chazzan who leads the synagogue services represents the community before G-d, so halachah asks more of him than a good voice. Ideally he should be righteous, humble, acceptable to the congregation, well versed in Torah, in addition to having a good voice (Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chaim 53:4). However, his family background is also important. If a man is personally righteous but comes from a non-religious home, this might have bearing.

Rashi (Gen. 25:21) asks why Yitzchak’s prayer for Rivkah’s infertility was accepted more than Rivkah’s own prayers. He quotes the Gemara (Yevamos 64a) that the prayer of a tzadik ben tzadik, a two-generational righteous person, is stronger than that of a tzadik ben rasha, a first-generational righteous person. Therefore, Yitzchak ben Avraham’s prayer was accepted over Rivkah bas Besuel’s. If so, perhaps a community should prefer a chazzan whose father is righteous over a ba’al teshuvah, someone who was not raised observant. Setting aside the issue of past personal behavior, is there a concern over the ba’al teshuvah’s father? Rav Asher ben Yechiel (Rosh; 14th cen., Germany-Spain) was asked about communities in Spain that appointed chazzanim from undistinguished families. The Rosh dismisses this concern. What good is distinguished lineage, he asks, if the man himself is wicked? And if someone comes from an undistinguished family but is righteous, all the better, since it is a mitzvah to draw close those who come from afar (Responsa 4:22). His son, Rav Ya’akov, quotes this ruling in his important work, the Tur (Orach Chaim 53). But it leaves open the question whether the same logic applies when the chazzan’s father was not only undistinguished but unobservant? Later authorities are divided on this point.

II. Unobservant Fathers

Rav Yoel Sirkes (Bach; 17th cen., Poland) cites Rav Shlomo Luria (Maharshal; 16th cen., Poland) as adding a qualification. Someone with an undistinguished father is acceptable but when two candidates are otherwise equal, the one whose father is righteous should be preferred (Bach, Orach Chaim 53, s.v. ve-kasav Maharshal).

Rav Avraham Gombiner (17th cen., Poland) follows this approach and writes that it is proper to look for a chazzan who is himself the son of a righteous man (Magen Avraham, Orach Chaim 53:8). Rav Yisrael Kagan (Chafetz Chaim; 20th cen., Poland) rules likewise (Mishnah Berurah 53:13).

Rav David Segal (17th cen., Poland) makes the Rosh’s logic more explicit. He notes that the Rosh does not merely tolerate a candidate from an undistinguished family; he says it is good to draw close those who come from afar. In other words, if there are two righteous candidates, one the son of a righteous man and the other the son of a wicked man, we should prefer the son of a wicked man (Taz, Orach Chaim 53:3).

III. Middle Ground

Between the Rav Gombiner’s preference for the son of the righteous father and the Rav Segal’s preference for the righteous man who overcame a deficient family background, Rav Shneur Zalman of Liadi (early 19th cen., Russia) stakes out a middle position. He first repeats that it is good to seek a chazzan who is the son of a righteous man. He then immediately cites the other view as well, that the prayer of a righteous son of a wicked man may actually be heard more readily. In practice, he concludes, the matter depends on the relative strengths of the two candidates: one man’s humility against the other’s ancestral righteousness (Shulchan Aruch Ha-Rav, Orach Chaim 53:7). This shifts the question away from a fixed rule about pedigree and toward a comparison of character. A religious upbringing gives someone something real: models, habits, inherited merit. Growing up without it can produce something else: humility, independence, and the achievement of having built a religious life rather than inherited one. The issue is less about who his father was than about what that background actually produced in the man standing before the congregation. More recently, Rav Moshe Sternbuch (cont., Israel) addresses this exact question. He explicitly points out something often implicit in previous discussions. There are many ways to measure the quality of a chazzan, among them his pedigree. But which qualities have higher priority than others? Rav Sternbuch argues that pedigree ranks last among them all. Only if the two candidates are equal in every other way, do we consider the righteousness of their fathers. Otherwise, we prioritize other considerations.

Additionally, someone who exhibited self-sacrifice in leaving the non-religious ways of his upbringing holds a quality not found in someone who was raised religious. Moreover, it is not clear that a non-religious father who never had a proper Jewish education can be considered wicked.

Rav Sternbuch concludes that if the two candidates are truly equal, the son of the righteous father should be preferred. But if the man from the non-religious home is more righteous or brings greater merit by spreading Torah, he should be chosen instead (Teshuvos Ve-Hanhagos, vol. 4, no. 9).

It is worth noting that some codes, when discussing the qualifications of a chazzan, do not mention this issue at all. Rav Ephraim Margoliyos (19th cen., Ukraine) lists the qualifications for serving as a chazzan for Selichos and the High Holidays, and does not mention pedigree (Mateh Ephraim 581:26-28). Rav Shlomo Ganzfried (19th cen., Hungary does likewise (Kitzur Shulchan Aruch 128:7). Rav Yitzchak Fuchs (cont., Israel) quotes the limitation of pedigree, as ruled in Mishnah Berurah, but concludes: “In practice, the one among the congregation who is greatest in wisdom and good deeds is the most appropriate one [to serve as chazzan]” (Tefillah Ke-Hilchasah 26:3). While acknowledging the pedigree rule, he effectively nullifies it by lowering its priority beneath the qualifications of personal wisdom and righteousness. In this way, recent authorities acknowledge that family background and childhood training matter. However, they emphasize that what a person does with his life matters even more.

By Rabbi Joey Haber

The “highlight,” so-to-speak, of the Rosh Hashanah prayers is the sounding of the shofar. In all, 100 sounds are blown over the course of the prayer service on Rosh Hashanah.

What is the meaning and significance of this mitzvah, and what should we be thinking and feeling when we hear the shofar sound?

To introduce the answer, let’s consider an analogy to a very common situation: a mother comes home and sees a big mess in the house. She turns to her kids and asks them to spend a few minutes straightening up. She goes upstairs to change.

When she comes back down, she sees the exact same mess, and the kids sitting in the exact same places where they were beforehand. They completely ignored her request, as though she did not even exist. This simple scenario helps us understand the concept of teshuvah, repentance, which is what the shofar blowing is all about.

Whenever we sin, whenever we do something wrong, we are, in effect, ignoring Hashem. We’re acting as though Hashem is not here with us, as though He is not part of our lives. After all, if we made Him part of our lives, if we were aware of His presence, then we would never have dared to do something He told us not to do. So, each time we commit a sin, we are pushing Hashem out of our lives a little more.

Teshuvah is the desire to bring Hashem back into our lives. It is a fierce, desperate longing to restore that relationship, the feeling that we cannot live without Him, that we need Him with us.

This explains the Gemara’s famous teaching that when a person performs teshuvah sincerely, his sins are not just erased but transformed into merits. This is astonishing – our sins can become mitzvot if we perform teshuvah properly.

We actually receive reward for the sins! How does this work?

The answer is that when we perform teshuvah, the distance created by the sin makes us long for closeness with Hashem even more. We feel disconnected from Him, and this makes our yearning much stronger.

It thus turns out that the sin led to a strengthening of the person’s bond with Hashem, and so it is transformed into a mitzvah.

The sound of the shofar has no words. It is a cry from the innermost depths of our souls. We are crying out for closeness with Hashem. We are yearning for a stronger relationship. When we hear the shofar sound, we should be thinking about how much we want and need Hashem in our lives, and how much we regret driving Him out of our lives through our mistaken behavior. This isn’t about being sad; it’s about longing and yearning, a desperate feeling of needing someone whom we had pushed away. If we can experience this longing on Rosh Hashanah, then we will transform our misdeeds into great sources of merit, and, no less importantly, we will put ourselves in a position to make this coming year much better than the previous year, a year when we avoid many of the mistakes we’ve made in the past, and when we truly live with Hashem each and every day.

By Rabbi Moshe Meir Weiss

As we get closer and closer to Rosh HaShanah, the day that our fate and the fates of our loved ones are decided, I would like to share with my dear readers some vital, lifesaving strategies.

The Orchos Chaim l’HaRav Luniel, zt”l, zy”a, makes the following stupendous statement, “Harotzeh l’harich yomim, hevei marbeh b’achim v’rei’im – If someone wants to lengthen his days, let him increase his relatives and friends.” The idea behind this is that Hashem will not take someone away from this world, even if they don’t deserve to be here, if they are very needed by someone else. Thus, it says by Nadav and Avihu, who were Divinely executed for a sin in the Mishkon, that if they would’ve been married or if they had children they would not have died, since fulfilling their wife’s needs or their children’s needs would have saved them.

It is therefore imperative, as we approach Rosh HaShanah, to ask ourselves, “Am I a worthy eizer, helper to my husband?” “Do I fulfil v’simach es ishto, making my wife happy?” Successfully carrying out these actions could literally be a matter of life and death. Similarly, are we a support and a presence in the lives of our children, grandchildren and great grandchildren? The Chasam Sofer, zt”l, zy”a, cites the verse, “V’hosircha Hashem b’fri bit’n’cha – And Hashem will give you additions because of the fruit of your womb. He interprets this to mean, “If we make ourselves useful to our descendants, Hashem will keep us around longer because of this.” The same thing is obviously true when we are a source of support, comfort, and joy to our elderly parents. When we go out of the way to be there for them, even when it is time consuming and difficult, we protect ourselves with the Divine assurance of, “L’ma’an yarichun yomecha – In order that you should prolong your life.” There are many examples of making ourselves needed, such as when we are a source of solace and strength to a lonely widow, widower or divorcé, are thoughtful, patient, and empathetic with a person going through a divorce, or encouraging and inspiring to an older single.

Remember the Golden Rule: Hashem doesn’t take someone away when they are needed. Another important strategy, as we start intensifying our prayers with the saying of Selichos, is to remember that if our mouths are sullied by lashon hara / sinful gossip, ona’as devarim / hurtful words, or nival peh / vulgarities, that mouth cannot possibly be effective in petitioning Hashem for one’s needs.

Yet another important consideration is that, at this time of the year, we approach Hashem with a posture of brokenness and humility, knowing full well the litany of vices and shortcomings that we have tallied during the previous year. Since we approach Hashem like a poor man begging for mercy, it behooves us to beef up our tzedakah, our charity output until, “It hurts,” as Rav Moshe Wolfson, zt”l, zy”a, would say. In that way, measure for measure, may Hashem shower us with His beneficence although we are unworthy.

Of course, the greatest merit of all is adding to our Torah study budget. As we all know, “Talmud Torah k’neged kulom – The learning of Torah equals the sum of all other mitzvos put together.” The Gemara teaches us categorically that Torah is, “Meigan u’matzlei – It shields and It saves.” What better way to ask for a new year than to show Hashem that we want to use our time to learn Torah? For Torah is the very reason that Hashem created the world. As it says, “Bereishis bara Elokim,” and Rashi says, “Bishvil haTorah shenikreis Reishis – [That G-d created the world] for the Torah, which is called Reishis.”

[My wife, Shoshy Weiss, LCSW-R, is offering an exciting Zoom opportunity called, “IFS (Internal Family Systems) Inner Circle.” This Zoom group, for women only, will be a safe and secure place for authentic sharing, connection, and growth through the IFS method. This group will be limited to 7 participants so it will be an intimate and productive program. We will begin after Sukkos (date/day/time TBD), and sessions will be weekly for 75 minutes. Registration is now open. For more information and to see the full ad, call/text 845-270-3699 or visit ShoshyWeissIFSTherapist.com.] If we are fulfilling Hashem’s plan, then He will certainly want to keep us around.

May we be successful with these strategies and in their merit may Hashem bless us with long life, good health, and everything wonderful.

By Rabbi Yissocher Frand

Parshas Vayelech contains the six hundred and thirteenth mitzvah of the Torah – the commandment to write a Sefer Torah [Devorim 31:19]. The Pnei Yehoshua cites in his commentary on Tractate Kiddushin that the fact that the number of letters in a Torah scroll is 600,000 alludes to the name Yisrael (Yud Shin Reish Aleph Lamed), which itself is an acronym for the expression: Yesh Shishim Ribbo Osios L’Torah (There are 60 myriad letters in the Torah.) It is thus not coincidental that the number of Jewish souls counted in the census of the Exodus was this same number of 600,000. That number corresponds with the 600,000 letters in a Torah scroll.

The Pnei Yehoshua explains, based on the Zohar, the Shnei Luchos HaBris and many other Kabbalistic sources that every Jew has within his soul one particular mitzvah attached to one particular letter in the Torah.

Rav Asher Weiss, in his Sefer on Chumash, makes a comment that I have thought about in the past, but I never knew how to fully explain it. Whenever I go to a Siyum Sefer Torah, I am always amazed at how much people get into the ceremony and how they manifest such sincere jubilation on that occasion. Today, thank G-d, one can open up any Aron Kodesh in virtually any shul and find a surplus of Sefrei Torah. Basically, we are talking about just adding one more Torah to an Aron Kodesh that already has more Torahs than the congregation needs. And yet somehow, the joy of a Siyum and a Hachnosas Sefer Torah ceremony is something that touches every Jew and brings out a Simcha that far exceeds what one experiences on most other occasions. How does one explain this? Rav Asher Weiss suggests that this is because of the above referenced mystical connection between a Jew’s soul and the Sefer Torah, which has a letter within it which is linked to that soul. There is therefore a connection between every Jew and every Sefer Torah. It consequently becomes a personal simcha. No one ever wonders why a Jew is joyous at his own child’s wedding or his own son’s Bar Mitzvah. “It is because it is me, it is my child, it is my grandchild. Of course I am jubilant.”

I feel a connection to every single Sefer Torah. It is not only because now we have another Sefer Torah which we did not have before. No. It has nothing to do with that. It has to do with the mystical spiritual connection between a Jew and one of the 600,000 letters in every Torah scroll. Using this idea, Rav Asher Weiss explains a very famous Gemara [Avodah Zarah 18a] that we recount on Yom Kippur: Rabbi Chananya ben Tradyon went to visit Rabbi Yosi ben Kisma when the latter took sick. Rabbi Yosi ben Kisma said, “Chananya my brother, don’t you know that this nation (the Roman Empire) has been empowered from Heaven for they have been allowed to destroy His House, burn His Sanctuary, kill his pious ones, and cause to perish his precious ones. Her might persists and I have heard about you that you sit and occupy yourself with Torah and gather congregations publicly to study with you. You openly display the Torah lying in your bosom. Rabbi Chananya responded, “May they have Mercy from Heaven.” Rabbi Yosi answered back to him, “I have given you a logical argument (why you should stop your public teaching) and you answer back ‘They should have Mercy from Heaven.’ I will be surprised if they don’t burn you and your Sefer Torah at the stake…” The Talmud in fact concludes that the Romans found Rav Chananya ben Tradyon publicly teaching Torah. They took him out, wrapped the Sefer Torah around his body and burned him at the stake. They placed moist clumps of cotton on his heart to increase the pain and slow down the process of his death.

His disciples saw what he was going through and they asked him, “Rebbi, what do you see?” He responded famously, “I see the parchment being consumed but the letters are flying off and they remain.”

The response of Rav Chananya ben Tradyon regarding the letters flying off the parchment appears to be allegorical. What is the deeper meaning of this conversation?

When the students asked their teacher “What do you see?” they were asking “What is going to be the future of Klal Yisrael? The Romans are in charge. They are killing everybody. What is going to be? They have destroyed the Bais HaMikdash they are destroying everything connected with Torah. What is the future going to bring? How is Klal Yisrael ever going to survive this?”

Rav Chanina ben Tradyon told them “The parchment is burning” – they can extinguish the bodies of Klal Yisrael, but “the letters are flying away” – the letters of the Torah which are linked to the souls of the Jewish people – these will remain forever. The letters flying away are a metaphor for the souls of the Jewish people which correspond, through a mystical link to the souls of every member of the Jewish people. The Romans can destroy the synagogues and the study halls and even the Beis HaMikdash. They can destroy the “body”, but not the “soul”. The souls of the Jewish people, like the letters of the Sefer Torah will endure forever. “…It will not be forgotten from the mouths of his descendants…” [Devorim 31:21].

By Rabbi Elimelech Biderman

The Rambam describes the various steps of teshuvah: “What is teshuvah? One must leave sin… and sincerely decide that he won’t do this sin again… He must regret … and say viduy…” (Hilchos Teshuvah 2:2).

The first step of teshuvah, stated in this Rambam, is to “leave the sin.” It isn’t sufficient to regret your wrong deeds and to say that you will improve. Teshuvah is to change; to stop sinning, and to do the mitzvos that you were neglecting until then. Some people don’t realize that. They think it’s sufficient regret their sins. They cry on Yom Kippur, “I sinned. I did wrong,” and they think that’s enough. But it isn’t sufficient. If he doesn’t translate his remorse into improved actions, an essential aspect of teshuvah is lacking.

The Rambam also writes: “What is considered teshuvah gemurah (complete teshuvah)? When one encounters the sin he had transgressed in the past once again, [he has the opportunity to sin again] and he refrains and doesn’t commit the sin because of his teshuvah (and not out of fear, or because he doesn’t have strength)…” (Hilchos Teshuvah 2:1). Once again, the Rambam is stating that a primary aspect of teshuvah is improving. Teshuvah gemurah, complete teshuvah, is when one doesn’t repeat his past sins. We can compare this to a person who owns a construction supplies store. Along one wall of the store are the bricks; another section carries lumber. He also supplies mortar, and other equipment. The store however, wasn’t a good investment; it was constantly losing money, so he decided to sell pharmaceuticals instead. But a decision isn’t sufficient. He must translate that decision into action. He must take out all the bricks, plywood, and building materials, and replace them with shelves stacked with medicines. He also needs to change the sign on the store. Deciding to change, without doing anything, isn’t sufficient. The same is with teshuvah. Deciding to change one’s ways certainly is the first step, but it can’t end with just a decision.

A fool, on the way to Warsaw, accidentally boarded the train traveling in the opposite direction. Someone asked him, “Where are you traveling to?”

“To Warsaw.”

“You’re on the wrong train. You’ll never reach Warsaw on this train. It’s going the opposite direction.”

“Thank you so much for telling me,” the fool said. “I didn’t realize.” He then promptly took a seat facing the opposite direction. We laugh when we read this story, but are we any different when it comes to teshuvah? When we realize that we’re going in the wrong direction in life, do we change our ways? Or do we just imagine how good it would be if we could change our ways and ultimately remain the same.

The Chofetz Chaim told the following mashal: A contagious, fatal disease was spreading through a small town. When one of the residents discovered that he caught the disease, he immediately packed his bags and hired a wagon driver to bring him to the nearby city where there was a doctor and a hospital that could cure him.

A neighbor asked him, “Why are you leaving town? You know that you aren’t the only person who caught the dreaded disease. Many people are ill in this town, but they just remain in their beds, in their homes. So why must you be different?” The ill person replied, “I don’t care what the others do. My life is in danger, and I have to save myself…” Likewise, the Chofetz Chaim said, when someone is clearly aware that the days of judgment are approaching, and he needs to do teshuvah to be saved, the yetzer hara comes to him and says, “You are not the only person who will be standing in judgment on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. The entire world stands in judgment. But we don’t see them changing their ways. They are complacent, happy to remain as they were until now. Why can’t you be like them? Why must you be different?” He should tell the yetzer hara, “I don’t care what the others do. There’s going to be a great judgment, my life is at stake, and I have to repent and improve, to save myself.”

By Rabbi Moshe Elefant

Since honey is produced by bees, and bees are not a kosher species, how can honey be kosher?

That’s a great question which is in the Gemarah. The Gemarah says honey must be Kosher. How do we know this? Because Eretz Yisroel is called “Eretz Zvas Chalav U’Dvash.” So, there’s no way that the Torah would’ve compared Israel to something that isn’t kosher. But why indeed is it kosher? The Gemarah says that honey is not digested by the bee. The bee swallows the pollen from the flower and secretes it from its body the same way that it ingested it. The bee has nothing to do with the making of the honey; it’s just like a bag holding the food.

The Question is, can that be applied to other foods? And that’s a very interesting question because there’s another very popular food ingredient called shellac, which is the secretion of another bug. The question is, does that have the same properties as honey? Rav Moshe Feinstein held that it did and that’s why the OU certifies shellac for food.

Is one allowed to eat an esrog and, if yes, can one eat the esrog on Sukkos itself?

There’s nothing wrong with eating an Esrog.

You can’t eat your esrog on Sukkos because once the Esrog has been designated for a mitzvah, you can’t eat it until the Yom Tov is over. Even an esrog that was bought to decorate the Sukkah, can’t be used on Sukkos to eat. If you just want to buy an esrog as a fruit, that’s fine. You need to make sure that if the esrog is from Israel, there are no issues with terumos and masros, but otherwise you can eat an esrog. Many have the minhag to eat an esrog on Tu B’shvat and pray for a nice Esrog for the next year.

Can one eat Cheerios during the Aseres Yemei Teshuva (ten days from Rosh Hashana to Yom Kippur) or Shabbos and Yom Tov for those who only eat Pas Yisroel on those days?

What about other breakfast cereals? Must they be Pas Yisroel?

There are differing opinions as to whether Cheerios is considered pas. The OU poskim do not consider it pas, because of the size of the individual pieces and the manner in which it is made. Likewise, wheat flake cereals are not considered “bread-like” and therefore do not need to be pas Yisroel. Corn and Rice Cereals are, by definition, not bread items. For a current OU Pas Yisroel list please see https://oukosher. org/blog/articles/pas-yisroel-list-5780/

This month many of the bakeries sell raisin challah.

Many local bagel stores recently stopped selling cinnamon raisin bagels.

Are raisins kosher to eat?

The OU’s position is that raisins are kosher. The only issue that comes up with raisins is that you can find insects in raisins. The Halacha is very concerned about the consumption of insects; it can involve 4-5 aveiros every time you ingest one. However, the halacha is that an insect only becomes prohibited once it has left the fruit where it was formed. The Prid Megadim and other commentators suggest that raisins don’t have that issue and even if a raisin did have an insect, it wouldn’t pose a Kashrut issue. Therefore, the OU does certify raisins.

What foods should one eat at the seuda ha’mafsekes (last meal) on Erev Yom Kippur?

Shulchan Aruch (Orach Chaim 608:4) writes that on Erev Yom Kippur, one should eat light foods that are easily digestible, so one will be able to daven on Yom Kippur with proper concentration. There is a common custom to dip challah in honey. Mishnah Berurah (608:16-18) writes that one should not overeat. It is proper to serve chicken, red meat, and especially fatty meat, should be avoided. Wine and other intoxicating beverages should not be served. One should avoid foods that are overly spicy or vinegary. Sesame should be avoided, since it can cause reflux. Based on the Tur (Orach Chaim 604), some have a minhag to eat fish on erev Yom Kippur. However, Kitzur Shulchan Aruch (131:12) writes that it should not be served at the seuda ha’mafsekes, but rather should be eaten earlier in the day.

What needs to be toiveled? Is there a general rule?

The Halacha is that Kli Seuda, utensils used for food, need to be toiveled. Deoraisa, only something made of metal needs to be toiveled so pots, pans etc. Glass needs to be toiveled Derabanan. Earthenware poses a problem. Earthenware doesn’t have to be toiveled however, glazed earthenware is often glazed in glass. If it’s a thin layer, it’s not as big of a question as with a thick layer. I learned from my Rebbeim to toivel glazed china but everyone should ask their own Rabbi.

CROCKPOT HONEY BALSAMIC BRISKET

INGREDIENTS:

3 -4 lb second cut
brisket or deckle
1 1/2 cups water
2 tsp seasoned salt
2 tsp garlic powder
1 1/3 cup balsamic
vinegar
1 cup ketchup
1/2 cup packed
brown sugar

1/2 cup honey
2 tbsp Worcestershire
sauce (make sure you
buy the one without fish)
3/4 tsp salt
a pinch of black pepper
1/8 teaspoon red pepper
flakes
2 tsp minced garlic

DIRECTIONS:

Add the meat to a slow
cooker. Top with
remaining ingredients –
cook on high 8-10 hours
or turn to low before
Shabbos. Meat will fall
apart and shred with two
forks. Serve with rolls,
coleslaw and pickles.

HARISSA AND SILAN GLAZED CARROTS

INGREDIENTS:

Les Petit Carrots
1/4 cup olive oil
1/4 harissa
1/4 silan

DIRECTIONS:

I’m so excited about this recipe. It’s perfect for Rosh
Hashanah. It uses some of the simanim and it’s
delicious.
Mix 1/4 cup each olive oil, harissa and silan (date
syrup). Pour over the carrots and roast at 375 for 45
minutes – 1 hour until carrots are softened.
So easy to make and full of flavor.

DUTCH APPLE CAKE

INGREDIENTS:

1 package yellow cake mix
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1⁄4 teaspoon ground cloves
1 cup applesauce
1 1/3 cups peeled and very finely
chopped apples (2 medium)
1 cup raisins
1 cup chopped pecans
1 cup powdered sugar
2 tablespoons maple syrup
Soy Milk

DIRECTIONS:

Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease and flour a 10-inch fluted tube pan; set

aside. Prepare cake mix according to package directions, except stir cinna-
mon and cloves into dry cake mix and substitute applesauce for the water.

Stir in apples, raisins, and pecans. Pour batter into the prepared tube pan,
spreading evenly. Bake for 60 to 70 minutes or until a wooden toothpick
inserted near the center comes out clean and top springs back when lightly
touched. Cool in pan on a wire rack for 10 minutes. Remove cake from pan;

cool completely on wire rack. For icing, in a small bowl stir together pow-
dered sugar and maple syrup. Gradually stir in enough soy milk to reach

drizzling consistency. Spoon icing over cooled cake.

By Rabbi Aryeh Lebowitz

And Miriam the prophetess, the sister of Aharon, took the drum in her hand, and all of the women followed her with drums and dances.

Shemos 15:20 Introduction

A number of Orthodox Shuls have either suggested appointing or actually have appointed women to serve as their presidents or on their board of directors. Assuming that the community is one in which women are generally taking leading roles in communal activities, is there any halachic objection to women serving in these roles? To the extent that there are halachic sensitivities, is it an absolute prohibition, or is it something that allows for some degree of leeway depending on the community?

The Source

The main objection to having a woman serve in a position of authority comes from a comment in the Rambam (Hilchos Melachim 1:5). The Torah instructs (Devarim 17:15), “Som tasim alecha melech,” “You shall appoint a king over you,” and the Sifri (Shoftim 157) derives from this that we specifically appoint a king and not a queen. The Rambam elaborates that this applies not only to actual royal appointments, but to any position that requires an official appointment and constitutes authority over others (serarah). This would likely preclude a woman from serving as a shul president, since it is an appointment that carries a certain level of authority.

Rav Moshe’s Explanation

Rav Moshe Feinstein (Igros Moshe, YD 2:44,45) suggests that the Rambam is based on a Gemara in Yevamos (45b), which rules, based on the same pasuk, that a ger is not permitted to be appointed as a king, nor may he be given any position of authority. Thus, the Rambam is simply applying the Gemara’s reasoning to the Sifri. When one is excluded from the right to be appointed as a king, he is similarly excluded from all positions of authority.

Defining Serarah

In order to know what the Rambam would prohibit, it is essential to understand what constitutes a position of serarah. The Gemara in Kiddushin (76b) teaches that a ger should not be given the job of inspecting vendors’ weights and measures. Rav Moshe (YD 4:26) explains that although this is certainly not a prestigious position, it is one that allows the individual to oversee and work against what others in his field – even those who hired him – are trying to accomplish. In this case, the local vendors might be attempting to cheat with their weights and measures, and it is the inspector’s job to keep their dishonest proclivities in check. In contrast, a CEO of a company, who is obviously in a more prestigious and authoritative position, is not there to work against anyone in the company, but to more generally manage and make important decisions for the company. Based on this definition, Rav Moshe rules that a ger can serve as a rosh yeshiva or a mashgiach in a yeshiva, even though he has the authority to throw students out of the school. This is because a rosh yeshiva works for the yeshiva’s board of directors and is supposed to implement their demands, not to work against them. Thus, we find that in a wide range of religious communities, women serve as principals and heads of school. On the other hand, a mashgiach of kashrus is considered to hold a position of serarah, since he is hired to supervise and keep the business owner in check, sometimes working against the owner’s business interests in the name of kashrus. Based on this, Rav Moshe ruled that a woman cannot serve as the chief mashgiach of a factory or facility. He did, however, permit a woman to work for a rav hamachshir and serve to implement his policies.

Other Opinions in the Rishonim

Many other rishonim seem to dispute the Rambam’s application of serarah and do permit a woman to serve in various public appointments.

Tosafos (Niddah 50a, s.v. kol), in discussing the role that Devorah played as a shofetes, cites an opinion that a woman is permitted to serve as a dayan, which is certainly a position of serarah.

The Sefer HaChinuch (497), in describing the mitzvah of appointing a king, mentions that a woman cannot be appointed to this position, while in the next mitzvah, he writes that a ger cannot be appointed to a position of serarah and makes no mention of women in this regard. This indicates that the Chinuch also argues with the Rambam. Rav Moshe points out that Rashi (Kiddushin 76b) and the Ran (Kiddushin 31a in dapei HaRif) understand that the source of the issur of serarah for a ger is the words “som tasim,” whereas the Rambam’s source prohibiting a woman from serarah is the word “melech” (velo malkah), thus indicating that they are not necessarily related. Rav Moshe adds that the Ramban and Rashba likely disagree with the Rambam as well, since they do not deal with the issue of Devorah serving as a judge, indicating that they likely have no problem with it.

However, the Ritva (Shevuos 30a, s.v. shevuas) does agree with the Rambam that a woman cannot be appointed as a dayan. Based on the fact that this is a machlokes rishonim and it is an issue of an issur d’oraysa, Rav Moshe rules that we should be machmir for the opinion of the Rambam and refrain from appointing women to positions of serarah.

A Shul President

Do we consider a shul president to be a position of serarah? According to Rav Moshe’s definition, the answer would be yes. The president and board members of a shul are there to ensure that the rabbi and the members of the shul are following their mandates appropriately, and they have to make supervisory decisions that may be in conflict with the desires and tendencies of others in the shul. Rav Moshe therefore rules that a woman may not serve as president or a board member of a shul.

Other poskim, including Rav Soloveitchik, permit women to serve on the shul board, but not as president of the shul, as they view the president as being the singular person of authority, while other board members serve merely as his deputies and do not have the power to make any decisions on their own. Rav Soloveitchik thought it wisest for women not to serve as vice president either, since the title would suggest that they are eligible to become president. Rav Chaim Dovid HaLevi (Chief Rabbi of Tel Aviv from 1973-1998) writes in a teshuvah that even according to the Rambam, a woman should be able to serve as president of a shul, since (in his opinion) serarah applies only to a position that is given through appointment or taken forcefully, not to a position that is voted on by the public or by the membership.

Other Considerations

It is important to note that a shul president spends many hours working very closely with the rabbi of the shul, and it is extremely inadvisable for a man and a woman who are not married to each other to spend so much time together. While sometimes unavoidable in a business context, it is wisest to avoid this unwanted challenge in a Jewish communal leadership context. This is true even if the halachos of yichud are strictly adhered to and everything is

By Rabbi Dr. Yaakov Abramovitz

Our lives – and the lives of our children – depend on it

After describing the choice between “life and good” and “death and evil,” Moshe urges the Jewish people, “U’vacharta ba’chayim – choose life” (Devarim 30:19). But why is that necessary? Who, if given the choice, would choose death over life, curse over blessing?

Rav Moshe Feinstein zt”l explained that the pasuk is not speaking about physical life and death, but about two very different ways of living a Torah life. One is an observance full of “life” – a Judaism infused with joy, where every mitzvah is experienced as a privilege and every opportunity to serve Hashem is a blessing. The other is a Torah life that feels “dead,” weighed down by obligations that are experienced as burdens and “curses.” Both people keep the same mitzvos. The difference is not what they do, but how they live it.

Moshe Rabbeinu is teaching that every Jew faces this choice. We can live a life of Torah that feels vibrant and alive, or one that feels heavy and joyless. “Choose life,” he implores us.

Rav Moshe added that the way we experience mitzvos has an especially profound effect on our children. He pointed to the experience of many Jewish immigrants who came to America. They sacrificed enormously to remain faithful to Shabbos, often losing one job after another because they refused to work on Saturday. Yet, when their children grew up in an America where there was far less pressure to violate Shabbos, many abandoned it willingly. How could children who witnessed such extraordinary mesirus nefesh walk away from the very values their parents had sacrificed so much to preserve? Rav Moshe explained that too often those sacrifices were accompanied by a constant refrain: “Es is shver tzu zayn a Yid – it is hard to be a Jew.” Their children certainly saw the commitment, but they also absorbed the attitude. They concluded that Torah was a burden their parents chose to endure, not a life they themselves wanted to embrace.

This, Rav Moshe explained, is why the pasuk continues, “Choose life…so that you and your children shall live.” The greatest gift we can pass on to our children is not only commitment to mitzvos, but the sense that living as a Jew is a blessing. When they see parents who genuinely cherish Shabbos, who speak positively about mitzvos, and who convey that serving Hashem fills their lives with meaning and joy, they are far more likely to want that life for themselves. In that way, your children, too, will truly live. As we take stock on the final Shabbos of the year, now is a wonderful opportunity to recalibrate our mindset before a new beginning. If we haven’t before, now is the time to choose life. As we put away our phones before Shabbos, talk about the expense and preparation for Yom Tov, or spend long hours in shul: our children are watching. Will they observe the burden of reluctance, resentment, and cynicism, or the vibrancy of pride, satisfaction, and commitment?

It’s an easy decision.

By Chaya Sora Jungreis-Gertzulin

Israel, June 1982. The First Lebanon War. It is also known as Operation Peace in the Galilee – Shalom HaGalil, for it was fought with the hope to protect the communities in Israel’s north. The prime objective was to move PLO forces away, in order to stop rockets from being fired into Israel. One of the most difficult battles was the Battle of Sultan Yakoub, where a group of tanks were ambushed by enemy forces. Twenty-one IDF soldiers were killed and over thirty were injured.

After the battle, there were three missing. Israel stands by its commitment to bring every soldier home. They didn’t give up. No matter how many years passed. It is now 44 years later, and the remains of the last missing soldier, Yehuda Yekutiel Katz hy”d were brought home. While his parents, Sara and Yosef Katz, did not live to see his return, his siblings, who never gave up hope, saw him laid to rest and sat shiva for him.

The Times of Israel reported that following a secretive recovery mission, not only did the IDF together with Mossad locate Yehuda’s body, but they were also able to find some of his personal belongings. Amongst them, was a small handwritten note found in Yehuda’s uniform pocket. IDF Sergeant First Class Yehuda Katz, a tank gunner in battle, took time out to pen personal kabbalos. The note was a list of 6 kabbalos, 6 personal commitments Yehuda took upon himself.

1. Say Tehillim every day and Tikun HaKlali.

2. Strive not to speak devarim betailim (conversations without purpose) in the Beis HaMidrash.

3. Eat with moderation.

4. Increase tefillos, tachanunim (heartfelt appeals for compassion) and hisbodedus (meditation) before Melech Malchei Hamlochim Hakadosh Boruch Hu.

5. Wake up earlier in the morning, before davening.

6. Go to mikva at least every erev Shabbos.

How great are the soldiers of Israel. Rabbi Boruch Wieder, Rosh Yeshiva of Yeshivat HaKotel, fought alongside Yehuda. He described him as “A righteous man, a scholar and a fighter, but also very gentle in spirit”.

I had the z’chus to accompany my mother on one of her many speaking tours to the IDF. I remember her describing chayalei Yisroel, the soldiers, defenders of Israel, with words in Av HaRachamin, a tefilla said on Shabbos before Musaf.

… “The holy congregations who gave their lives for kiddush HaShem, who were beloved and pleasant in their lifetime, and in their death were not parted (from HaShem). They were quicker than eagles and stronger than lions, to do their Creator’s will…” As we know, there are no coincidences, but a reason for everything that happens in the world around us. We must just look at what is occurring, and ask ourselves what is the lesson to be learned.

It is now chodesh Elul, our time to prepare for Rosh HaShanah. To contemplate how we can improve ourselves, and what changes we can make in our lives. Even decades after his death, Yehuda Katz is speaking to us. He left behind a note, a list of kabbalos that was discovered during chodesh Elul. Why Elul? Is it not a message to us that if he, a soldier fighting a most horrific battle, was able to write his list, surely, we can write ours. Yehuda’s note is a reminder to us – It’s Elul, make your list of personal kabbalos for the new year.

Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzzatto, the Ramchal, (1707-1746), writes in Mesilas Yesharim, Path of the Just, “… all circumstances in this world are tests for mankind.” It’s up to us to see our challenges as opportunities for growth. Yehuda Yekutiel certainly did. And through his list, his name, his life, lives on. A legacy of growth even during trying circumstances.

When making our lists, we need not berate and minimize ourselves. Instead of concentrating on our weaknesses, think of how to tap into our potential and increase the good we can do.

Rav Yeruchim Levovits (1873-1936), the renowned Mashgiach in pre-war Mir Yeshiva, taught “As important as it is for one to know his faults, it is even more important to know his virtues, to know what he can accomplish.” A positive, uplifting thought, as we compose our “Elul list”. To concentrate on our potential and put it into action.

There is a well-known acronym for the word Elul – “Ani l’dodi, v’dodi li, I am for my beloved and my beloved is for me”. (Shir HaShirim 6:3) Beautiful poetic words written by Shlomo HaMelech. Words that describe our love for HaShem and in return, His love for us.

There is another acronym for the word Elul. It is written in Megillas Esther, “Ish l’reyeihu, u’matanos l’evyonim, A person is for his friend, and gifts to the poor.” (Megillas Esther 9:22).

Together, these pesukim describe the avoda, tasks, of Elul. To work on both our personal spiritual relationship with HaShem, and our connection to our fellow man.

Parshas Nitzavim, which we read this week, tells us “U’vacharta bachaim, And you shall choose life.” (Devarim 30:19) We all have our plans, our aspirations, our goals. Every year, as we stand before HaShem on Rosh HaShanah, we say that this year will be different. And, at first it is. But sometimes, we slowly go back to our old ways. Let’s make this Rosh HaShanah different. Let’s write our Elul list. Let’s try to fulfill our potential. To work on having a stronger connection to HaShem, and forging sincere, heartfelt relationships with our fellow man. This year, let’s not merely write our Elul list. Let’s live it. L’zecher nishmas Yehuda Yekutiel ben Yosef. For ourselves. For Klal Yisroel. For Eretz Yisroel.

By Rabbi Eli Mansour

The Gemara (Rosh Hashanah 11a) lists several events that occurred on the date of Rosh Hashanah, the first of Tishreh. These include Sara conceiving with a child at the age of 90, after decades of infertility and desperate longing for a child. For this reason, we read on the first day of Rosh Hashanah the story of the birth of Sara’s son, Yishak Abinu. The Gemara also mentions that Rosh Hashanah was the day when Yosef was released from prison in Egypt. He had been imprisoned when Potifar’s wife falsely charged that he assaulted her, and Yosef spent 12 years in the dungeon, until he was brought before Pharaoh to interpret the king’s mysterious dreams. This led to his being named Pharaoh’s vizier. It was on Rosh Hashanah, the Gemara teaches, that Yosef was brought out of prison and taken before Pharaoh. This event is alluded to in the 81st chapter of Tehillim, which – for good reason – is the chapter we read as the “Shir Shel Yom” (daily Psalm) on Rosh Hashanah. We find in this chapter references to both the sounding of the Shofar on Rosh Hashanah (“Tik’u Ba’hodesh Shofar” – verse 4), and Yosef’s emergence as the leader of Egypt (“Edut Bi’Yehosef Samo Be’seto Al Eretz Misrayim” – verse 6) – clearly indicating that Yosef left prison on Rosh Hashanah.

The Maharsha (Rav Shmuel Eidels, 1555-1631), in his commentary to Masechet Rosh Hashanah, draws a curious connection between these two events – Sara’s conception, and Yosef’s rise to power in Egypt. In the aforementioned chapter in Tehillim, Yosef’s name appears with an extra letter Heh, such that it is written “Yehosef” instead of “Yosef.” The Maharsha writes that this extra letter came from Sara, whose name ended with a Heh. Additionally, the Maharsha adds, according to the wisdom of Kabbalah, the letter Heh at the end of G-d’s Name (the Name of “Havaya”) signifies the concept of Malchut, kingship, and it was thus added to Yosef’s name when he ascended to a position of royalty in Egypt. The commentators explain further that Sara’s name, as we know, was originally “Sarai,” which ended with the letter Yod, and it was later changed to “Sara,” which ends with Heh. The letter Yod in Gematria equals 10, and it was divided into two Hehs, as the letter Heh in Gematria equals 5. One was given to Sara, and the other was given to Yosef.

The question then becomes, why did specifically these two figures receive the letter Heh? What is their particular connection to this letter, which expresses the theme of Malchut?

The answer lies in the fact that both Sara and Yosef faced numerous hardships over the course of many years and nevertheless maintained pristine faith in Hashem. Sara was childless for many years, was twice abducted by ruthless kings, and wandered from place to place for much of her life. Yosef was cruelly banished from his home, brought as a slave to Egypt, where he was tempted by his master’s wife – and when he refused, she had him imprisoned. As mentioned, he remained in prison for 12 years. Neither Sara nor Yosef ever questioned or challenged G-d’s judgment. They fully and wholeheartedly accepted His rule over the world without complaint. And this is the greatest expression of Malchut – unconditional and unreserved submission to, and acceptance of, Hashem’s will as the ultimate good.

This is why Sara and Yosef are associated with the letter Heh – which signifies Hashem’s kingship – and why they are associated with Rosh Hashanah, the day we celebrate Hashem’s kingship.

This teaches us a crucial lesson about how we must approach Rosh Hashanah.

Many people approach this day focused solely on what went wrong during the previous year, and on their hopes and aspirations for the coming year, everything they want to be better during the new year. But they forget about all that went right during the past year, all the wonderful blessings that Hashem had granted them.

The Tiferet Shlomo (Rav Shlomo of Radomsk, Poland, 1801-1866) taught that if we want our prayers to be answered, we must first thank Hashem for all the good in our lives before proceeding to ask for what we want. We cannot enter Rosh Hashanah ungratefully, complaining about all that is wrong with our lives, without first acknowledging, appreciating and being thankful for all that is currently right with our lives. After all, Rosh Hashanah is the day when Hashem is crowned anew as king over the universe, an event to which only “VIP members” are invited – and we, Am Yisrael, are the “VIP members.” Imagine someone receiving an invitation to attend the Presidential inauguration, and he shows up with a frown, angry and agitated. When he gets a turn to greet the President, he doesn’t smile, because he’s so upset about whatever it is that’s bothering him. He would likely be thrown out of the party, and he certainly would not be invited the next time around… On Rosh Hashanah, we are the special guests at Hashem’s “inauguration.” And thus, Ezra Ha’sofer told the people on Rosh Hashanah, “Hedvat Hashem Hi Ma’uzchem” – that their source of strength and success was their joy and festivity on this day (Nehemia 8:10). We must show up on Rosh Hashanah smiling, celebrating Hashem’s kingship, grateful for all He had done for us. Each and every year throughout her years of infertility, Sara joyously celebrated Hashem’s kingship on Rosh Hashanah – just as Yosef did each and every year he spent in the dungeon. Of course, they also prayed for what they needed – but not before they felt genuine gratitude for all that they had.

Let us enter Rosh Hashanah not only with a “laundry list” of everything we want Hashem to give us, but also with sincere gratitude for all that He has already given us, and we will then be worthy of His continued grace, kindness and blessing, Amen.

By Rabbi YY Jacobson

The Scroll

This week’s parsha (Vayalech) relates the dramatic events that transpired during Moshe’s last day on earth. Among the many things he did on that fateful day was committing the entire Torah (the Chumash, the Chamisha Chumshei Torah) to writing. The Torah scrolls we use today are copies of copies of copies of the original Torah scroll written by Moshe on the day of his passing, on 7 Adar.

After completing the writing of the full Torah, Moshe commanded the Leviim, “Take this Torah scroll and place it at the side of the Ark of the Covenant of the Lord your G-d, and it shall be there as a witness for you.” The Mishkan in the desert and later the Mikdash in Yerushalayim housed the Aron Hakodesh containing Two Luchos inscribed with the Aseret Hadibrot and the newly completed Torah scroll needed to be placed at the side of this Aron.

The exact location of the Torah scroll on the side of the Aron inspired a debate between the Talmudic Sages. Rabbi Meir held that the Torah scroll needed to be placed inside the Aron, at the side of the Two Luchot. Rabbi Judah was of the opinion that a shelf protruded from the outside of the Aron and the Torah scroll was placed on that shelf.

The logic behind their argument lay in the proper interpretation of Moshe’s above-quoted words, “Take this Torah scroll, and place it at the side of the Aron.” According to Rabbi Judah, “at the side of the Aron” is to be understood literally—that the Torah scroll ought to be placed not inside but outside the Aron. Rabbi Meir, on the other hand, believes that the words “at the side of the Aron” are merely coming to tell us that the Torah scroll should be placed not between the two Luchot, but rather at the side of the Luchot, next to the interior wall of the Aron.

Three Questions

Three questions come to mind.

Firstly, why did Rabbi Meir feel compelled to impose an apparently twisted interpretation on the words “at the side of the Aron”? Why did Rabbi Meir not embrace Rabbi Judah’s simple and straightforward explanation that when Moshe instructed the Torah scroll to be placed “at the side of the Aron” he meant it literally, outside the Aron?

Second, why was there a need altogether to have the Torah scroll situated in such close proximity to the Aron?

Finally, we discussed numerous times that the Torah and all of its commandments and episodes were transcribed to serve as a Divine Blueprint for living, as a road map for life’s challenging journeys. How can a 21st-century human being glean wisdom and inspiration from an ancient commandment to place a Torah scroll at the side of an Aron, at a time when we have no Aron and no Luchot? What type of relevance can Moshe’s instruction to the Leviim carry for our lives today?

The Root vs. the Branches

Our Sages have said that the Aseret Hadibrot presented at Har Sinai and inscribed on the Luchot Habrit embodied the quintessence of the entire Torah, all Five Books. All perspectives, themes, ideas, laws, ethics, and stories of Torah are encapsulated in the brief 620 letters of the Aseret Hadibrot. The Five Books of Moshe, then, serve essentially as a commentary to the Aseret Hadibrot, elaborating and explaining the background, meaning, and significance of these ten pillars of the Jewish faith.

The Luchot constitute the source, the epicenter, the nucleus of Judaism; the Five Books are the elaboration, the explanation, the outgrowth.

The debate between Rabbi Meir and Rabbi Judah on the kinship between the Torah scroll and the Luchot is not merely a technical argument concerning the proximity of two physical entities; but rather a profound disagreement on the fundamental methodologies of the development and communication of Judaism.

How close do we need to uphold the connection between the core of Torah and its expansion? Are we capable of “leaving the box” containing the Luchot without losing the “real thing”?

This is by no means an abstract dilemma. How does one communicate ancient truths to a young generation molded in a secular weltanschauung? How does one present a Torah which is over 3,000 years old to a modern 21st-century iPhone-addict? How do we pass on the gift of “In the beginning, G-d created heaven and earth” to Stanford and Yale graduates for whom Charles Darwin holds more sway than Moshe?

Are we to present Judaism in its original form and composition, without employing modern-day terminology, techniques, and structures of thought? Or must we take Judaism “out of the box” and re-package it in contemporary language?

The argument rages to this very day. Some teachers and presenters of Judaism are accused of lacking the ability to communicate to a “new generation” of Jews, while other teachers are accused of “liberalizing” Judaism, of diluting its pristine ideas on order to accommodate the modern Jew or non-Jew. One of the Ten Martyrs executed by Rome in the second century CE was Rabbi Chutzpis HameTurgeman, whose name means Rabbi Chutzpis the Elucidator. The Kabbalists comment that to truly elucidate and present something in a new form you have to have Chutzpah, hence his name was Chutzpis.

The Light and the Vessels

The Talmud says something profoundly moving about Rabbi Meir: It is known to the creator of the world that Rabbi Meir surpassed his entire generation and he had no equal. Why then did they not establish the law according to his opinion? Because the Sages could not comprehend the depth of his wisdom.” Rabbi Meir was misunderstood by his own colleagues; his ideas were too advanced for his times.

“Meir” in Hebrew means “the Illuminator.” The light that emanated from Rabbi Meir’s mind and heart were too profound for his colleagues and students. Why? Because Rabbi Meir was of the opinion that all interpretation and development of Torah-thought must remain intimately bound with its source. The commentary and exposition may never be removed from the space of their progenitor. The Torah must be placed right near the Luchot. To dilute the light in order to accommodate the vessels will do an injustice to the integrity of the message.

According to Rabbi Judah, however, the word of G-d needs to leave the perimeters of the sacred Aron and be brought outward. Judah, Yehudah in Hebrew, means surrender or submission. One has to surrender his or her own elevated state of consciousness in order to reach out and present the Torah to the student who would not be able to absorb the intense light dwelling “inside the box.” Judaism, Rabbi Judah argued, needed to be presented in a manner that would make it accessible, relevant, and pertinent to people trained in a different mindset and even those educated in the schools of Athens. For according to Rabbi Judah this is not a cop-out, but rather a great noble act of self-surrender (Yehudah). It is easier to just repeat the old phrases and sayings, to remain secure in the ancient pathways, but you need to transcend your comfort zone in order to bring the light and truth of Torah to those outside. I once received an e-mail from a weekly reader, a very learned and observant Jew from Los Angeles: “Rabbi Jacobson, would you cease transcribing your psycho-babble and begin teaching good old Judaism.”

So, I wrote back: “You are of the opinion of Rabbi Meir; in my emails I attempt, at times, to follow the path of Rabbi Judah. May G-d be with me in my writing.”

Loyal to the Source

Yet here is the critical catch: Even according to Rabbi Judah, the Torah must always remain connected to its source by means of a plank of wood.

What this means is this: There is a difference between presenting Judaism in terminology and methodology that can speak to the mind and heart of modern man vs. attempting to prove that Judaism conforms to modern trends of thought. The former path is noble; the latter path is intellectually dishonest, as it does not seek to discover the authentic message of Judaism, only to create a fluffy Judaism that does not challenge the comfort zones of modern man.

This distinction between the two approaches has been profoundly blurred in recent years, and the results are obvious. The former approach has given countless students the opportunity to challenge themselves by the Divine truths of Torah; the latter approach has brought down Torah to suit the fancy of every imagination. In the end it comes down to the question: How confident are you in the truth of Torah? Are you employing modern thought merely to communicate Torah, or are you employing it in order to confirm to yourself and others the appeal of Judaism?

What Rabbi Judah is saying is that as far out-of-the-box as you travel, a “plank of wood” must always connect you to the original, pristine “Tablets” inside the box. The link between the nucleus of Torah and its expansions must always remain evident. If not, you may be depriving yourself and your students from the vibrant, pulsating, divine wellsprings of G-d’s word. I once had a conversation with a friend, a popular rabbi, who is heavily involved in broadcasting Judaism to the secular world. I told him that in my humble opinion, his communication of Judaism was lacking the energy that emanates from someone who is entrenched in serious Torah learning. I told him that he must dedicate time each day to study Talmud—those parts of Talmud that deal with intricate Jewish law and rituals that are abstract and not for “public consumption.” Only when he will be entrenched in the source of the wisdom, will his communication to the outside world be real and effective. He challenged my position. Yet I believe this is the truth: Only when you are submerged in the highest and deepest level of Torah study, will your communication of “sound bite” Judaism be authentic and meaningful. A “plank of wood” must always link the outside to the inside.

Who has the right to “re-package” Judaism? Only someone who is selfless (Yehuda), has no ego involved, and his only agenda is to share the word of G-d with others, a person who is completely loyal to the authentic source. But if someone lacks these qualities, they will frequently compromise and dilute, if not pervert, the pure waters of Judaism with the tarnished bacteria of trends and notions that are alien to Torah.

By Rabbi Efrem Goldberg

A fascinating debate broke out online last week over a question that sounds semantic but is actually profound.

Though it wasn’t framed this way, to me, the question being debated was essentially: is there a difference between being a Jew and being Jewish?

It began when comedian Hannah Einbinder expressed views sharply critical of Israel (not for the first time). Ben Shapiro responded, “Hannah Einbinder is about as Jewish as a ham sandwich.” He added, “If you believe that these people represent Jews or Judaism, then you believe Madonna represents Catholics or Catholicism.”

When someone, whether a celebrity or grassroots activist, invokes the “as a Jew” card to lend credibility to an argument or position that he regards as anti-Jewish, Ben’s response on several occasions has essentially been: Don’t use your Jewish identity to validate an argument that is antithetical to Judaism or harmful to the Jewish people.

Rabbi Mordechai Lightstone of Chabad.org pushed back. “There are many ways to criticize bad arguments,” he wrote. “Saying people who are indeed Jewish are about as Jewish as a ham sandwich is simply not it.” Shapiro responded: “Wrong. Using the mantle of Jewishness, something Einbinder and company demonstrate zero actual commitment to, in order to promote anti-Judaic insanity is fundamentally un-Jewish and ought to be called out as such.”

Then Rabbi Shais Taub joined the fray. “Torah is the final arbiter of all matters, including Jewish status,” he wrote. “You cannot revoke someone’s Jewishness even if you believe they are using that very status to advance ideas that are to the detriment of the Jewish people.” Rather than push such Jews away, he argued, we should devote ourselves to bringing our brothers and sisters back into the fold.

So who is right? When a Jew invokes “as a Jew” while advancing ideas we believe are deeply damaging to Judaism, Israel, or the Jewish people, do we say, “You’re about as Jewish as a ham sandwich”? Or is a Jew a Jew now and forever, and our responsibility is always to love them, embrace them, and try to bring them closer? The answer may be both. The Gemara in Sanhedrin famously describes the sin of Achan, who disobeyed Hashem’s command not to take from the spoils of ישראל אף על פי ,words the with ,Yericho הוא ישראל שחטא, even though a Jew has sinned, he remains a Jew. The Gemara offers a beautiful metaphor: A myrtle standing among thorns remains a myrtle and is still called a myrtle. Achan’s crime was devastating and damaging: he had not merely committed some private aveirah, rather his actions brought catastrophe upon the Jewish people. Nevertheless, Chazal insist that his essential identity remained unchanged.

The Gemara in Yevamos takes this even further. A convert who properly completes the conversion process is k’Yisrael l’chol devarav, Jewish in every respect. What happens if that convert later abandons Judaism? He remains a Jew. If he marries and decides to abandon Yiddishkeit, his kiddushin remains valid because he is now a Yisrael mumar, an apostate Jew, but a Jew nonetheless. The Rambam codifies the same principle regarding someone born Jewish who converts to another religion. Even if he willingly worships idols, his kiddushin remain fully binding. There is no reverse conversion. There are no backsies. Once you are a Jew, you are a Jew forever. The Gemara in Kiddushin adds another dimension. The Torah says, לה׳ אתם בנים אלקיכם,” You are children of Hashem your G-d.” Rabbi Yehuda understands this conditionally: Only when we behave like Hashem’s children are we called His children. When we do not, we lose that designation. בין כך ובין כך אתם :disagrees Meir Rabbi בנים קרויים, either way, you are called children. The Gemara supports Rabbi Meir with a series of pesukim describing Jews as foolish children, faithless children, even destructive children. The Torah is telling us something: at times we may act like terrible children, but we remain children.

Remarkably, the Rashba writes that although we ordinarily follow Rabbi Yehuda in a dispute between Rabbi Yehuda and Rabbi Meir, here the halacha follows Rabbi Meir because the pesukim brought by the Gemara support him. As any parent can relate to, no matter what we do to upset our Father in Heaven, we remain Hashem’s children. That is particularly important as we enter Elul and approach Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Some of us look back at the year and feel inadequate. We have made the same mistakes again. We have disappointed ourselves and Hashem. Maybe we wonder whether we have exhausted His patience. But still we pasken like Rabbi Meir. Banim atem laHashem Elokeichem. You are still His child and will always be his child.

Rebbe Mordechai of Kuzmir finds a beautiful allusion in the unusual formulation banim atem. Why does the Torah need the word atem? Elsewhere, regarding the rabbinic authority over the Jewish calendar, Chazal derive from the word osam: ,שוגגין אפילו אתם even—אתם אפילו מזידין, אתם אפילו מוטעין when you err unintentionally, even deliberately, even when you are mistaken. Rebbe Mordechai takes the same word with different vowelization – “Atem” – and reads the same message here: Banim atem. You remain Hashem’s children afilu shogegin, afilu mezidin, afilu mut’in. When we make mistakes, when we knowingly make the wrong choices, even when we are confused and lost, Hashem has not given up on us. This is why the Gemara says that a communal fast that does not include the sinners of Israel is not a proper fast. It is why, before Kol אנו מתירין להתפלל עם ,announce we ,Nidrei העבריינים, we permit ourselves to pray together with the transgressors. And who are the transgressors? We might imagine we are welcoming the Jew who drove to shul on Yom Kippur. But if we are honest, we are also talking about ourselves. We are all the avaryanim. None of us should imagine that we are so perfect that we automatically deserve a place in the room.

This is a running theme throughout much of Jewish law and thought. The chelbenah, the malodorous spice, was nevertheless essential to the ketores. The aravah has neither taste nor fragrance, yet without it there are no complete arba minim. Klal Yisrael includes Jews who are distant, confused, alienated, and sinful. The very word we use to describe a community, “צבור – Tzibbur,” many point out, stands for “Tzaddikim, Beinonim, V’R’shaim.”

These sources certainly sound like they support the approach of Rabbis Lightstone and Taub. A Jew is a Jew, always a child of Hashem.

So was Ben Shapiro simply wrong, is his approach extreme, unforgiving and maybe even inaccurate? Not necessarily. The Rishonim introduce another category that changes the conversation. There is Yisrael, and there is “Achicha.” Yisrael describes who you fundamentally are. Achicha, your brother, describes how you participate in the covenantal fraternity of the Jewish people and how we relate to you.

The Maharam Mi’Rutenburg distinguishes between the two. Certain Halachos are based simply on being Jewish. Gittin and kiddushin, marriage and divorce, for example, remain fully operative even for an apostate Jew. But other mitzvos are explicitly formulated in terms of achicha. The Torah commands us to return aveidas achicha, our brother’s lost object. We may not charge our brother interest. Somebody can therefore remain Yisrael while forfeiting aspects of achva. There are times we are instructed, even obligated, to treat a Jew as if he was not a Jew.

There are, in other words, two levels: דרגת אחוה ודרגת ישראל. When it comes to Jewish identity, Hashem decides who is a Jew. And a Jew is a Jew is a Jew. But achva describes the way we relate to and behave toward our fellow Jews. If someone deliberately removes himself from the Jewish people and works against them, the Rishonim recognize that those choices can affect that status and that status affects the privileges he or she enjoys and how we relate to him or her.

This is where the conversation becomes especially relevant today. The Rambam describes the poresh midarkei tzibbur, one who separates himself from the Jewish community, in startling language: פי על אף עבירות עבר שלא, even though he has committed no aveiros. Imagine someone who keeps Shabbos, is meticulous about kashrus and is personally scrupulous about halacha. But he is nivdal mei’adas Yisrael, he separates himself from the Jewish people. Continues the Rambam,בצרתן נכנס ולא, he does not enter into their suffering. He does not feel their pain. Their enemies are not his enemies. Their danger is not his danger. Their destiny is not his destiny. He conducts himself, says the Rambam, k’ilu eino meihem, as though he is not one of them. That is itself a profound religious failure and it impacts his place in the community in this world and his very entrance to the next one.

We need to be exceedingly careful here. Criticizing Israel or its government, leaders, or officers does not make someone an enemy of the Jewish people. Advocating for Palestinians does not remove someone from achva. There is plenty about Israel and about the Jewish community that can legitimately be criticized. Where exactly the line is crossed is a serious and complicated halachic question, and labels such as mumar, moser, and poresh midarkei tzibbur (and more modern terminology like “Kapo” or “self-hating Jew”) should not be thrown around casually. But there is a difference between criticizing policies and leveling blood libels against the Jewish state. There is a difference between advocating for another people and actively undermining the safety and security of your own, a clear distinction between disagreement and disassociation.

Moshe Rabbeinu provides the opposite model: Moshe ,ויגדל משה ויצא אל אחיו וירא בסבלותם went out to his brothers and saw their suffering. What helped make Moshe the quintessential leader of the Jewish people was precisely achva. He saw other Jews as his brothers. Rashi tells us that he placed his eyes and heart upon their suffering. Jewishness is not only what you eat, how you observe Shabbos, or which mitzvos you perform. It is also whose pain you feel, whose fate you share, and whom you call your brother. And that brings us back to Ben Shapiro’s ham sandwich. Perhaps what the conversation is missing is distinguishing between the noun Jew and the adjective Jewish. Jew is an identity. Jewish is a description. A Jew you are forever. Yisrael af al pi shechata, Yisrael hu. Even if you espouse ideas as non-kosher as a ham sandwich, you remain a Jew. Only Hashem determines Jewish identity, and no tweet, political position, or personal rebellion can undo it.

But are your ideas Jewish? Are your actions Jewish? Are you behaving Jewishly? Are you a representative of the Jewish people? Are you living with achva, seeing other Jews as achicha? That is a different question. In that sense, Ben’s formulation can be understood differently, and to me is compelling. He was not, to me, saying that such a person is no longer a Jew. He was saying that invoking “as a Jew” does not magically make an argument Jewish. You can be a Jew while espousing profoundly un-Jewish ideas.

Indeed, when espousing un-Jewish and anti-Jewish ideas with the introduction “as a Jew,” it is particularly dangerous and damaging. Historically, apostate Jews often walked away and disavowed their Jewish identity. They sought to assimilate, integrate, and erase their status as Jews. Today, by contrast, some of the most vociferous voices leveling false accusations against Israel have abandoned the Rambam’s basic criteria for being worthy of achva status, all while prominently waving the “as a Jew” card.

In that sense, perhaps the ham sandwich metaphor is particularly fitting. Chazal describe the pig as stretching out its split hooves, as if to announce, “Look, I am kosher,” while concealing the fact that it does not chew its cud and is therefore not kosher at all. The pig is a symbol not merely of what is forbidden, but of the hypocrisy of publicly displaying the credential that suggests legitimacy while behaving in a way that contradicts it. There is something similarly troubling about invoking one’s Jewish identity not as a source of responsibility to the Jewish people, but as a credential to lend greater legitimacy to those who attack them. The repeated declaration “as a Jew” can become the outstretched hoof, holding up Jewish identity precisely while advancing ideas profoundly at odds with Jewish solidarity and responsibility.

Rav Soloveitchik’s famous distinction between Bris Avos and Bris Sinai helps illuminate this further. Before Sinai, we already had a covenant. We were the descendants of Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov. Bris Avos makes us a family. It gives us a common history, identity, belonging, loyalty, and destiny. Then came Bris Sinai. At Sinai we said na’aseh v’nishma. We accepted Torah, Halacha, and mitzvos.

This distinction is embedded in Birchas אשר בחר בנו מכל העמים ונתן לנו :HaTorah תורתו את. First, bachar banu—He chose us, a people. Then, v’nasan lanu es Toraso—He gave us the Torah. Peoplehood precedes obligation. Bris Avos precedes Bris Sinai. Tragically, much of the Jewish world today shares our Bris Avos but not our Bris Sinai. They may not observe Shabbos or kashrus, may not believe in Torah min HaShamayim, and may know little about mitzvos. But they identify passionately with the Jewish people. Israel matters to them. Jewish suffering hurts them. Jewish celebrations move them. We may desperately want to help them discover Bris Sinai, but we already share Bris Avos. There are also Jews with whom we share Bris Sinai but who seem strangely disconnected from Bris Avos, from the larger Jewish family and its collective fate. And then there is the most painful possibility: someone who seems to reject both. Neither Bris Sinai nor Bris Avos. Neither the covenant of Torah nor identification with the fate and family of the Jewish people. Perhaps that is the person the Rambam describes as k’ilu eino meihem—someone who behaves as though he is not one of us.

So who is right, Ben Shapiro or Rabbis Lightstone and Taub? Rabbis Lightstone and Taub are unquestionably right about the Jew. Yisrael af al pi shechata, Yisrael hu. A Jew is a Jew. We don’t give up on another Jew because Hashem doesn’t give up on another Jew. Banim atem laHashem Elokeichem. We should reach out, invite, educate, inspire, put on tefillin together, share a Shabbos table, and try to awaken the Jewish soul that remains present no matter how deeply buried. But Ben is right about the word Jewish. Being born a Jew does not make everything one says a Jewish position. Invoking “as a Jew” does not give Torah credibility to an idea. Jewish identity is unconditional but living Jewishly is not. A Jew is never a treif piece of ham but an idea, even if said by a Jew, can be and sometimes it is necessary to point that out, protest and set the record straight. You can never stop being a Jew. But you can certainly stop acting very Jewish. And perhaps the challenge is not merely to decide which description applies to someone else. Elul asks each of us the same question. Hashem has already decided that we are His children. Nothing can change that. The question we have to answer is: How Jewishly are we choosing to live?

By Rabbi Shay Tahan

In this generation- the generation of the Geula, we are witnessing a remarkable and blessed phenomenon, one that would have been difficult to imagine only a few years ago. Increasing numbers of Jews from all walks of life have begun to wear tzitzit beneath their clothing and thereby embrace this precious mitzvah in a way that has become both widespread and increasingly visible. This phenomenon is particularly noticeable in the streets of Israel. It is not uncommon to see Jews who do not consider themselves religious, and who may even walk without a kippah, nevertheless wearing tzitzit, with the strings visible beneath their shirts. A mitzvah that was once associated primarily with those who were observant has, in recent years, found its way into the lives of many Jews who previously had little connection with it. This trend grew significantly following the outbreak of the war. In the midst of a period of tremendous uncertainty and danger, many Jews sought to strengthen their connection to Hashem and to the mitzvot. Tzitzit became one of the most visible expressions of this awakening. Individuals and organizations began distributing tzitzit to soldiers, and many Jews who had never worn tzitzit before began putting them on. What began in many places as an individual act of spiritual inspiration gradually became a widespread phenomenon. An additional indication of the growing popularity of this mitzvah can be seen in the remarkable development of the tzitzit and tallit market. In recent years, stores have begun offering beautifully designed tzitzit and tallit in a wide variety of styles, fabrics, colors, and materials. This is more than simply a commercial development; it reflects the fact that many Jews have come to see the tzitzit not merely as an obligation, but as something they genuinely desire to wear and identify with.

There is a special blessing in this. It is one thing for a person to fulfill a mitzvah because he feels obligated to do so. It is something even greater when a person takes pride in the mitzvah, chooses a garment that he finds beautiful and appealing, and wears it with joy. The very purpose of the tzitzit is to serve as a constant reminder of the mitzvot, and when a person is happy and proud to wear them, that reminder becomes an integral part of his daily life.

That may be the reason why this mitzvah is not obligatory in the usual sense: a person is not required to wear tzitzit unless he wears a garment with four corners, which is relatively uncommon. Nevertheless, we gladly and voluntarily wear tzitzit as an expression of our pride in wearing Hashem’s sign upon our clothing.

The renewed interest in techelet has added another dimension to this phenomenon. In recent years, many Jews have begun wearing tzitzit with a blue thread- the Tchelet, following the various traditions and research concerning the identification of the chilazon (snail). There is no denying that the renewed discussion and practice of wearing techelet has brought even greater attention to the mitzvah of tzitzit.

And now, a new trend has begun to emerge. The popular Jewish singer Ishay Ribo has been seen wearing a black shirt with black tzitzit strings hanging visibly beneath it. His distinctive appearance has attracted considerable attention, and others have begun adopting a similar style.

At first glance, this may seem like nothing more than a matter of fashion. But perhaps there is something deeper taking place. Throughout Jewish history, the way Jews dress has often reflected their identity and their connection to Torah and mitzvot. The fact that Jews today are looking for new and attractive ways to wear tzitzit may itself be an expression of a growing desire to make the mitzvah part of their everyday identity. In this article, I would like to examine the halachic advantages and concerns surrounding this new style of wearing tzitzit: a black shirt with black tzitzit strings hanging visibly beneath the garment. Is there a halachic preference for the traditional white tzitzit? Is there anything problematic about wearing black tzitzit? Does the color of the garment affect the color of the strings?

The Torah says: “Speak to the children of Israel and say to them that they shall make for themselves fringes on the corners of their garments throughout their generations, and they shall place upon the fringe of each corner a thread of blue.”

— Bamidbar 15:38 Chazal derive from the words “place upon the fringe of each corner a thread of blue” that the color of the tzitzit should correspond to the color of the garment. Thus, according to this understanding, if the garment is red, the strings should be red. Accordingly, if one chooses to wear a black garment, the tzitzit strings should likewise be black.

At first, this may seem surprising to us. We are accustomed to seeing the traditional white tallit katan, whether made of wool or cotton, with white tzitzit hanging from its corners. But what about someone who chooses to wear a colored garment? If the halachah indeed requires the tzitzit to correspond to the color of the garment, then the black tzitzit worn with a black shirt are not merely a modern fashion statement. They have a basis in the words of Chazal and in the discussion of the Rishonim.

Indeed, this very question was debated by the Rishonim. The Tur (O. C. siman 9) brings a dispute regarding the proper color of the tzitzit. The Rambam and Rashi understand the Gemara as teaching that the strings should be the same color as the garment. According to this approach, colored garments should have tzitzit corresponding to their color. However, the matter is not so simple. The Beit Yosef, in his discussion of this halachah, brings the opinion of the Mahari Chaviv, who explains that this understanding of the Rambam is a misunderstanding. According to him, the Rambam did not mean that one is obligated to make the tzitzit the same color as the garment. Rather, he understood that the Torah permits one to make the strings the same color as the garment, but one may also use white strings. Thus, according to this approach, even when the garment is colored, there is no obligation to use strings of the same color.

This dispute is highly relevant to the contemporary practice of wearing a black shirt with black tzitzit. According to the understanding of Rashi and the Rambam cited by the Tur, there is a clear precedent for matching the color of the tzitzit to the color of the garment. According to the Mahari Chaviv’s understanding of the Rambam, however, black strings are not required, since white strings may be used even with a colored garment.

The question therefore becomes: Which understanding is accepted as hehalacha? And beyond the technical question of whether black tzitzit are permitted, is there a halachic advantage to wearing them in this manner? Here we find a machloket between the Shulchan Aruch and the Rema (O.C. 9:5). The Shulchan Aruch writes that there are those who hold that the tzitzit should be the same color as the garment, and that those who are medakdek in the mitzvah follow this opinion. The Rema, however, writes that the Ashkenazi custom is to attach only white tzitzit, even to colored garments, and that one should not deviate from this practice.

Accordingly, there appears to be a distinction between the Sephardic and Ashkenazic approaches: according to the Shulchan Aruch, there is a basis for making the tzitzit the same color as the garment, while according to the Rema, the accepted Ashkenazic custom is to use white tzitzit regardless of the color of the garment.

Nevertheless, the Kaf HaChaim (O.C. 15, 36) brings that according to the teachings of the Arizal, the tzitzit should be white. He therefore writes that it is preferable to wear a white tallit, so that one fulfills the mitzvah according to all opinions when using white tzitzit. He also cites the custom of many who are careful to have both the tallit gadol and tallit katan white.

Thus, even for those who follow the Shulchan Aruch and can rely on the opinion that the tzitzit should match the color of the garment, there is an additional consideration according to Kabbalah to use white tzitzit and, preferably, a white garment. Therefore, in order to fulfill the mitzvah according to all customs, it is best to wear a white garment with white tzitzit.

Nevertheless, those who wear the newer style of colored garments with colored strings surely fulfill the mitsva and may continue doing so when the tzitzit are properly attached and meet the halachic requirements.

By Rabbi Joey Haber

A member of the Jewish community in Minneapolis once brought me to give a speech in that community, and the man who picked me up at the airport was none other than the owner of the Mall of America, the largest mall in the United States, who is a wonderful Torah Jew. In the car, he told me a beautiful story.

His wife had made a trip to Israel around Thanksgiving time, leaving him with the children. On Thanksgiving, all the kids had school except the youngest, who was getting restless at home, so the father brought her to the mall. They sat at the kosher eatery at the mall and ate some fries.

There they met a religious family from Los Angeles that was attending some event in the middle of the country. The father worked as a Rabbi in a school. They could not afford to fly, so the family decided to turn it into a road trip. They stopped off at the mall to eat. After speaking with the family for some time, the mall’s owner asked the children if they wanted free passes for some of the rides at the mall. They of course emphatically said yes. He went downstairs and, as the owner, easily obtained several passes. He came back to where the family was waiting, and he placed the passes in the mother’s hand. She looked at him in disbelief.

She explained that during the whole trip, the children were complaining that they wouldn’t be able to afford the amazing rides at the mall.

“I learn from a book about bitahon [faith in Hashem] every day,” she said, “and I told my kids that if Hashem decided that they should go on the rides, He can put the passes in my hand at any minute. And that’s just what happened.”

The owner of the mall told me how at that moment, he genuinely felt how he was just a puppet in Hashem’s show, just a pawn in His plan to help this beautiful family. He realized that he’s not the owner of the country’s largest mall, he’s not a high-flying executive – he’s just Hashem’s agent, His messenger through which His will is carried out. Nothing more.

This is an important message for us to internalize as we prepare for Rosh Hashanah. What we want on Rosh Hashanah is to arouse Hashem’s compassion, that He judges us with mercy, and not on the strict level of the law. This means that we want Him to judge us not according to our actions, based on what we’ve actually done, but based on who we really are, who we try and aspire to be. A cop once ticketed for me for speeding. What mattered to him was only that I was driving above the speed limit. It didn’t matter that I had flown back to the city that morning, was then driving home after delivering an inspiring speech, and was on the phone dealing with important community matters. We want Hashem to treat us differently, to take into account the bigger picture, how we are inherently good and want to do the right thing, even though the results aren’t always what they should be.

And the way we arouse Hashem’s compassion is by seeing ourselves the way this mall owner saw himself – humbly, as dependent entirely on Hashem. If we take the credit for our achievements, then we will be held responsible for our failures. If we pride ourselves for the good results, then we are accountable for the bad results. But if we focus not on the end results, but on our intentions, recognizing that we make our effort and then Hashem brings the outcome, then we will be forgiven for the times when the outcome wasn’t right. If we want Hashem to see the broader picture, who we really are, then we need to look at the broader picture – how Hashem controls everything – and at who we really are – just frail human beings who depend on Hashem for everything. May we all be worthy of Hashem’s mercy and compassion, and be blessed with a wonderful year of joy, health and prosperity, amen.

By Rabbi Yissocher Frand

It’s a Mitzvah to be Happy

This week’s parsha contains the mitzvah of bringing one’s first fruits (Bikurim) to Jerusalem. The farmer must thank G-d for the bounty with which he has been graced. In addition to the declaration, the Torah commands the farmer to rejoice: “You shall be glad with all the goodness that Hashem, your G-d, has given you and your household…” [Devarim 26:11] Rav Mordechai Gifter (1916-2001) asks, why it was necessary for the Torah to add the command for the farmer to be happy? The farmer has just had a bountiful harvest and has arrived in Jerusalem loaded down with first fruits. He already feels terrific. So why must the Torah specify a new positive command —be happy with all that G-d gave you? Rav Gifter explains that this command is necessary. A person could come up to Jerusalem with a bounty of Bikurim and still be thinking to himself “it could have been better!” He could be jealously looking at his neighbor’s fruits and thinking, “he had a better crop than I did”. Unfortunately, one can be blessed with the biggest bounty and yet choose not to be happy. Therefore, as part of the mitzvah of Bikurim, The Torah commands that we should be appreciative. We must look at what we have and be happy about what we have.

We must be happy with what we have even if it COULD have been better and even if our neighbor DID have a better crop. If G-d has seen fit to bless us with this, then we must be happy with it.

In fact, this may be the interpretation of the verses in the middle of the Tochacha [Curses] in our parsha [Devarim 28:47-48] “Because you did not serve Hashem your G-d, amid gladness and goodness of heart, when everything was abundant”. These terrible curses, described in graphic detail in the Tochacha, are occurring because we failed to serve G-d out of joy and happiness — when we had abundance of everything (m’rov kol). These two words (‘rov’ and ‘kol’) should remind us of an earlier passage in the Torah. Eisav is the one who said [Bereishis 33:9] “yesh li ROV” [I have plenty] and Yaakov is the one who responded [Bereishis 33:11] “yesh li KOL” [I have everything I need]. The difference between an Eisav and a Yaakov is that however much Eisav possesses, he only sees it as “plenty”. Yaakov, however, recognizes that what he has is, in fact, “kol” – everything that he needs.

The pasuk in the Tochacha is explaining that the source of a person’s unhappiness is “m’rov kol” — the fact that he views all the good things that he possesses as only “plenty”, in the same way that Eisav viewed his possessions. Anytime a person thinks that he does not have “kol” [everything], he will never be happy. The greatest amount of “rov kol” [plenty] will never make a person happy, as the Talmud teaches, “One who has one hundred wants two hundred”.

‘Faithful’ Illnesses Are Part of the Curse At the end of the Tochacha [Devorim 28:59] the pasuk states, “Then Hashem will make extraordinary your blows and the blows of your offspring — great and faithful blows (makos gedolos v’Neemanos), and evil and faithful illnesses (Cholayim gedolim v’Neemanim).” The Talmud [Avodah Zarah 55a] comments on the peculiar choice of adjective for the blows and the illnesses: faithful. This is certainly not a modifier that we would ever choose to describe an illness. The Gemara teaches an amazing insight. Before G-d decides to send illness upon a person, he (figuratively speaking) makes the illness take an oath. The illness is instructed that it will reside within the person for so many days, it will cause so much amount of pain, and it will be cured by such and such medicine and then depart. The illness ‘swears’ that it will abide by these instructions and only then is it sent out to inflict the person.

Sometimes a person may have a chronic disease. It can drag on for days and weeks and even months and then one day it disappears. Then it can reappear later and the cycle is repeated. Chronic illnesses can be like that. But whatever the case may be, the Gemara teaches, is all part of the oath. The oath ensures that the illness will cause a specific amount of suffering, will last a specific duration and not a moment longer.

Rabbeinu Tam [Rosh HaShanna 16a D.H. Kman Matzlinan] states that the exact time when a person will become sick is in fact a decree from Heaven, however the timing of the cure is not decreed. This statement of Rabbeinu Tam seems to contradict the previously quoted Gemara in Avodah Zarah that explicitly states that the cure and duration of the illness is also decreed.

The Yavetz in Tractate Rosh HaShanna explains that Rabbeinu Tam means to say that the suffering can leave earlier than expected through the power of prayer. In other words, Rabbeinu Tam agrees that there is a decreed time when the illness will leave, however a person has the power through his prayers to expedite that departure.

By Rabbi Moshe Meir Weiss

Every morning in Elul, the call of the shofar reminds us to use this special time wisely and fully. The Yeitzer Hara adroitly keeps us distracted with the still lazy days of summer coupled with the hectic, frenetic madness of schooling, bussing, doctoring, dentisting, shopping, and everything else that comes with the beginning of a new season. To combat this interference, let’s fortify ourselves with the realization of, “L’fum tzara agra – According to the difficulty is the reward,” and Hashem appreciates every effort we make to stay focused on the upcoming Yom HaDin, Day of Judgment.

Here’s a Medrashic comment that should help us start thinking of the job of Elul. The Medrash says, “Yitzro shel adam misgaber alov b’chol yom um’vakeish l’hamiso – One’s Evil Inclination prevails upon him every day and wants to kill him. V’im ein HaKadosh Baruch Hu ozro, eino yacholo – And if Hashem wouldn’t come to his assistance, he wouldn’t be able to overcome his inclination.”

Let’s analyze the first part of this powerful statement. “One’s Evil Inclination prevails upon him every day.” Do we realize that on a daily basis, we are being tempted to do what is wrong? Do we recognize that every 24 hours we face a raging battle? That is the reality. If we are unaware of this, it means we’ve already lost. If we don’t think so, it means that we are spiritually naïve to the pitfalls that confront us constantly. In the beginning of Masechtas Brachos (Just to let you know: In about 283 days, the global Daf Yomi cycle will be starting Brachos again! If you’re not already a part of learning the daily daf, start thinking now about joining us.), the Gemara demands from us, “L’olam yirgaz adam Yeitzer Tov al Yeitzer Hara – A person should always incite the Good Inclination against his Evil Inclination.” The key word here is l’olam, always. The temptation to do what is wrong is not something that comes occasionally. It is with us regularly and requires our constant vigilance and pushback. The second part of the powerful Medrash says, “If Hashem doesn’t help us, we wouldn’t prevail.” The question is, How do we get Hashem’s assistance? What must we do to receive His Siata d’Shmaya, Divine support? Obviously, not everybody gets this help, as so many people succumb to temptation and end up sinning. The answers to these questions are revealed in a fundamental Ohr HaChaim HaKodesh, zt”l, zy”a. On the verse, “Ki seitzei l’milchamah al oivecha – When you go to battle against your enemy,” the Ohr HaChaim says this also refers to one’s battle against his oyev ha’imiti, his true enemy, the Yeitzer Hara. Then, the posuk concludes, ‘U’n’sano Hashem Elokecha b’yadecha – And Hashem will deliver him (the Yeitzer Hara) into your hands.” In other words, if we go to battle with the Yeitzer Hara and fight to do what is right, that is the faucet that releases the Divine assistance that will enable us to vanquish the Evil Inclination.

Our work is cut out for us. We must first identify what our daily challenges are and then begin our fight against them. When Hashem sees that, He will come to our rescue and help us finish the job. But it’s not so easy to recognize what we are doing wrong.

First of all, “Ein adam ro’eh nigei atzmo – A person doesn’t see his own flaws.” Hashem made us teflon-coated so we shouldn’t get depressed. Furthermore, to complicate things, we are taught, “Ovar v’shana naaseh lo kheter – When we do things repeatedly, it seems to us like permissible behavior.” It’s possible we might have failed to pay attention to much of our davening for decades. And since, we do it so often we don’t even realize we’re doing something wrong. Our potential to overlook our own flaws might be true about many behaviors and actions, like screaming at home, like gossiping about our co-workers, like neglecting to call our parents, or like being stingy with our money. In Elul, we need to identify our shortcomings and start putting up a fight. This is what Hashem wants to see from us. Let’s activate our righteous muscles to go against the grain. Let’s “fight” to smile more often, compliment more regularly, nag and criticize less. Let’s start the struggle against laziness to open a Sefer more regularly, attend more minyanim, and help out more at home.

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By Rabbi Elimelech Biderman

The Torah discusses the mitzvah of going to the Beis HaMikdash to proclaim there that you kept all the mitzvos of terumah and maasar etc. At this time, one says, “I did everything You commanded” (26:14). Rashi writes, “I was happy and I made others happy.”

Tzaddikim understand from this Rashi that one of Hashem’s primary desires of Creation is that Yidden should be happy. Therefore, if one “was happy and made others happy,” he can say “I did everything You commanded” for he fulfilled one of the primary purposes of Creation.

There are many ways to bring happiness to others. The most simple and easiest manner is to smile to your fellow man. Chazal (Kesubos 111:) state, “Whoever shows his white teeth to his fellow man [in a smile] is greater than giving him milk to drink.” You can help the poor by giving them a cup of milk, but an even greater merit is to smile to them and to fill their hearts with happiness.

Someone asked Reb Avigdor Miller zt’l how he should prepare for the judgment of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.

Reb Avigdor Miller replied, “Smile.” He explained, “You think that I’m old, and that I’m not speaking coherently, for how does smiling grant someone a good judgment? But actually, this is very good counsel. I will explain with a mashal: Someone owns a chain of stores. At the end of each year, he takes inventory and decides what changes have to be made for the upcoming year. Some stores will need more advertising, some employees will be laid off, and so on. The proprietor’s advisor said, “Even if you let go of some employees, don’t fire Mr. So and-so. He always has a smile on his face, which gives the consumers a good feeling. There are people who come to the store just to meet with him…’ Similarly, keviyachol, at the end of the year Hashem takes inventory, to see how the world is running, and some will be removed from the world, in the upcoming year. But if there is someone who always has a smile on his face, bringing joy to others, he is an asset to the world, and Hashem will therefore grant him life and a good year so he can continue bringing joy to others.

On a similar note, Reb Yisrael Salanter zt’l taught that those who do chesed have a better chance for receiving a good judgment on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, for even if they don’t deserve to live by their own merit, they will be granted life because people need them.

By Rabbi Moshe Elefant

What is preferable?

To wake up early and recite Selichos before dawn (a.k.a. alos hashachar, which is 72 minutes before sunrise), or to stay up late and recite Selichos after chatzos (midnight)? What about saying selichos after alos or after?

Rav Yitzchak Zylberstein (Chashukei Chemed, Yoma 22a) writes that the preferred time to recite Selichos is before dawn. This can be inferred from the Rambam (Hilchos Teshuva 3:4) who writes that it is customary to awake at night and recite Selichos until the morning. In addition, Mishnah Berurah (581:1) writes that the end of the night is an eis rotzon (a propitious time when G-d is receptive to prayer), implying that the early morning is the most appropriate time for Selichos. Finally, the She’arim Metzuyanim B’Halacah (Yoma 22a) notes that Selichos recited in the early morning is more effective, since it is recited through greater sacrifice; it is more difficult to wake up early than to stay up late.

May Selichos be recited after sunrise? Rav Chaim Kanievsky (Divrei Si’ach, vol. 134) holds that it is preferable to recite Selichos after Chatzos than to recite Selichos later in the day after sunrise. On the otherhand, Rav Elyashav and Rav Shlomo Zalman Aurbach take an opposite opinion and write that it is better to recite Selichos in the daytime (even after sunrise) than to say it after chatzos (quoted in MB Dirshu MB, 581:1). Similiary, the Aruch Hashulchan writes that it has been customary to say selichos in the morning after sunrise for many generations. On the other hand, Rav Moshe Feinstein, zt”l (Igros Moshe OC, 2:102) writes that kabalistically, the period after chatzos is as much an eis ratzon as early dawn, and for this reason, for many generations, it has been customary to recite Selichos at night after chatzos. This is also the opinion of the Minchas Elazar (the previous Munkatcher Rebbi), as recorded in Divrei Torah (141:76).

Even those who recommend saying selichos in early morning before sunrise agree that on the first night of Selichos, on Motzei Shabbos, it is preferable to recite Selichos after Chatzos. This is because we wish to combine the merit of Shabbos together with the first Selichos. Therefore, we begin Selichos after Chatzos, and do not wait for the early morning (Chashukei Chemed, ibid.).

When is the proper time to recite Tashlich?

The Magen Avrohom (583:5) quotes the Kesavim of the Arizal that the ideal time to recite Tashlich on Rosh Hashanah is on the first day after Mincha, before shkia (sunset). This is cited by the Mishnah Berurah as well and many other poskim, though the Maharil (Minhagim – Rosh Hashanah 9), who was the first to record this custom, writes that Tashlich is recited after the meal (i.e., before mincha). Sefer Keser Shem Tov offers several reasons to recite Tashlich after Mincha: We deliberately delay Tashlich until late in the afternoon since this is an auspicious time to have one’s prayers answered. We find that Eliyahu Hanavi’s prayers were answered at this time.

We want to connect Tashlich with Mincha, since Yitzchok Avinu instituted Mincha, and Tashlich is recited to elicit the remembrance of Akeidas Yitzchok The Mateh Efraim (598:4,7) writes that if Tashlich was not said before shkia, it can be said after shkia. Although the custom is to recite Tashlich after Mincha, if one will not have time after Mincha, it can be said before Mincha. If it was not said on the first day of Rosh Hashanah, it should be said on the second day. Likutei Maharich writes that if it was not said on Rosh Hashanah, it can be said during Aseres Yemei Teshuvah.

Is one permitted to fast on Rosh Hashanah?

One is not permitted to fast on Rosh Hashanah because Rosh Hashanah is a Yom Tov. For this reason, the Shulchan Aruch (OC 597:1) rules that one must eat, drink and rejoice on Rosh Hashanah. Nonetheless, unlike other Yomim Tovim, one should not overindulge, lest the solemn nature of the day will be obscured. However, there were Rishonim who held that it is permissible to fast during the daytime because Rosh Hashanah is a day of teshuva. Rabbi Yosef Dov Soloveitchik, zt”l said that his great-grandfather, the Beis HaLevi, would fast both days. In fact, there were those who would fast even on Shabbos Rosh Hashanah because they considered the importance of teshuva on this day to be on the level of pikuach nefesh (life threatening), which overrides the requirement to eat a Shabbos seuda. Although in practice we follow the Shulchan Aruch and do not fast on Rosh Hashanah, the Mishnah Berurah (584:5) makes a distinction between Rosh Hashanah which falls on Shabbos, and Rosh Hashanah which falls on a weekday, as follows: When Rosh Hashanah falls on a weekday, we are permitted to extend the davening into the afternoon, while if Rosh Hashanah is on Shabbos, we are required to finish davening before chatzos (halachic midday) so as not to fast past the morning.

By Rabbi Eli Mansour

Parashat Ki-Tabo begins with the Misva of Bikkurim – the obligation upon a farmer to bring the first fruits that ripen to the Bet Ha’mikdash and present them to a Kohen. The farmer then makes a special declaration praising and expressing gratitude to Hashem for bringing our nation out of Egypt into the Land of Israel, where he was able to till the land and produce delicious, nourishing fruit. The unique significance and importance of this Misva is expressed in the special fanfare that characterized the process of bringing Bikkurim. The farmers would assemble and march with song and festivity through the roads, and the shopkeepers in Jerusalem would close their stores and come out to welcome and celebrate the visitors who were bringing their fruits to the Bet Ha’mikdash. The importance of Bikkurim is also articulated by the Midrash, which teaches that this Misva is mentioned in the very first word of the Torah: “Bereshit.” The Midrash interprets this word to mean that the world was created for the sake of Bikkurim, which is called “Reshit” (“Reshit Bikkureh Admatecha” – “the first of the fruits of your land that ripen” – Shemot 23:19). Remarkably, the Midrash is telling us that the entire world was created so we can fulfill the Misva of Bikkurim!

The reason is that G-d created the world so that He could shower us with goodness which we would then appreciate and be grateful for. The most elementary of all Torah values is gratitude, acknowledging and appreciating what was done for us. Hence, the Misva of Bikkurim, which revolves around the concept of gratitude, thanking Hashem for providing us with food, can be seen as the purpose of all creation.

Our Sages teach that gratitude toward Hashem begins with feeling and showing appreciation for other people. The Midrash states: “Whoever denies his fellow’s goodness will ultimately deny the Almighty’s goodness.” The classic example demonstrating this principle is Pharaoh, who is said to have “not known Yosef” (Shemot 1:8). It is inconceivable, the Rabbis explain, that a king who ascended the throne soon after Yosef’s lifetime had not heard of Yosef. He was the one who saved Egypt from the devastating famine that struck the rest of the region, and thereby enriched the kingdom, as all the surrounding peoples came to purchase grain which Yosef had stored in anticipation of the looming drought. Rather, this means that the new Pharaoh did not acknowledge Yosef’s role in saving the kingdom and bringing it to great heights of wealth and prestige. Because Pharaoh denied all the good that Yosef brought to the kingdom, he ultimately denied G-d Himself, brazenly and outrageously telling Moshe many years later, “Lo Yadati Et Hashem” – “I do not know G-d!” (Shemot 5:2).

Translating this message into practical terms – one cannot be considered “religious” if he recites Birkat Ha’mazon after every meal with intense concentration, thanking Hashem for his food, and says “Modim” in the Amida prayer three times a day with great emotion, expressing gratitude to Hashem for all He does – but he does not show gratitude to the people in his life. Gratitude begins at home, with the people who do the most for us – first and foremost our parents, who gave us life and exerted so much hard work and made so many sacrifices for us, and then our spouse, the one closest to us, with whom we build and run our families. If we are not grateful to them and to everyone who helps us and does things for us, we will ultimately feel ungrateful also toward G-d.

And, yes, this applies also to those who are paid to do things for us.

Many years ago, I was hired as a private tutor for a teenage boy in the community. While we were learning, he called the family’s housekeeper on the intercom system and told her to bring him soda and some snacks. I was startled by the way he spoke, not even using the word “please.” She came a minute later with the soda and snacks, and he said, “Close the door on your way out.”

I turned to the boy and asked, “You don’t say ‘thank you’??”

“Rabbi,” the boy replied, “she works for us. We’re paying her to do this.”

“Now you’re making me very nervous,” I said.

“Why?”

“Because I also work for you. Your parents pay me, too. Are you going to treat me that way because I’m getting paid?”

Whether it’s the secretary, the cashier, the uber driver, the coworker, the delivery guy – feeling and expressing gratitude is not just required, but it is the ABC’s of the Torah, our most basic obligation as Jews and as human beings.

The more we appreciate all the people in our lives and all that they do for us, the more we will appreciate all that Hashem does for us – and this will, in turn, make us worthy of even more of His unlimited blessings and goodness.

By Chaya Sora Jungreis-Gertzulin

This week’s parsha, Ki Savo, tells of the mitzva of bikurim, the giving of the first fruits to the Kohein.

“Ki savo el ha’aretz…, When you enter the land that HaShem, your G-d, gives you for an inheritance… You shall take the first of all the fruit… and you shall put it in a basket, and go to the place that HaShem, your G-d, will choose to have His name dwell there.” (Devarim 26:1-2) Let’s travel back in time to the days the Beis HaMikdash stood in Yerushalayim. It’s harvest time, and the farmers are in the field. They’re busy collecting bikurim, the first fruits of the Shivas Haminim, the Seven Species that Eretz Yisroel is known for – wheat, barley, grapes, figs, pomegranates, olives and dates.

The Mishna describes the beauty and splendor of giving bikurim. The farmers of each community would join together and make the trek to Yerushalayim. What a sight it must have been! An ox would walk before them, its horns adorned with gold, and a wreath of olive leaves resting upon its head.

Melodious tunes from a chalil, a flute would accompany them until they approached Yerushalayim.

Upon nearing the city, they would send word ahead about their imminent arrival. The farmers would then decorate their bikurim baskets with flowers. Important officials would come out to greet them. The tradesmen of Yerushalayim would stand before them, and in a display of unity call out “Acheinu, our brothers, men of such and such a place, we welcome you in peace.”

Our Torah is timeless, its messages for all generations. How does the mitzva of bikurim speak to us today? Rabbi Moshe Alshich, known as The Alshich HaKodosh (1508-1593), teaches that the mitzva of bikurim is a lesson in hakoras hatov, recognizing the good, having gratitude and showing appreciation. The farmer works the field, plants, and fertilizes. But then looks up to the heavens, and says, HaShem, I need Your help. The right amount of rainfall, enough to nourish the earth but not too much that would flood the field. Sunshine to help the crops grow, but not a scorcher that would parch the land. The crops should be protected from storms and strong winds. And then it is harvesting time. Time to say thank you HaShem. Time to acknowledge that no matter man’s effort, we need HaShem’s brachos.

It’s not just the farmer who should live with a connection to HaShem, but all of us. The farmer does everything he can do, but recognizes that he cannot make the seed grow. That is the essence of bikurim. A doctor can study, prepare, and operate—but cannot guarantee the outcome. A businessperson can work tirelessly—but cannot control the market.

A parent can nurture a child—but cannot determine every outcome.

A teacher can teach—but cannot control what a student ultimately absorbs. We are all farmers.

No matter where life takes us, no matter what profession or pursuit we choose, we must acknowledge HaShem being with us, guiding us along the way.

A friend shared with me that her mother underwent serious surgery that Boruch HaShem had a successful outcome. When she thanked the doctor, he told her that it wasn’t his skills, but “G-d and His angels were resting on my shoulders”. A humble thought that is the spirit and meaning of bikurim. A spirit that each of us can and should bring into our lives.

When the farmer would offer his bikurim, he would do so with a tefilla – Mikra Bikurim, Declaration of the First Fruit. “And you shall go to the Kohein… v’amarta, and you shall say…” (Devarim 26:3) The Torah emphasizes that the farmer’s expression of appreciation must be verbalized. A lesson for us to take to heart. The Sifri commentary on Devarim learns from here the importance of voicing words of thanks. It’s not enough to think it, one must say it. Even if we have strong feelings of gratitude in our mind, and feel appreciation within our heart, it is not sufficient. Gratitude isn’t merely an emotion; it is an act. V’amarta, one must say the words. Gratitude is not fully assimilated until it is verbalized. It is not only meaningful to the one who received the thanks but leaves a positive mark upon the one who offers the thanks.

And what does the farmer offering bikurim say? He recounts the history of our people, going back to Yaakov Avinu. He speaks of Yaakov’s trials and travails. The difficult days in Lavan’s house. Of Yaakov’s going down to Egypt, and the eventual enslavement of Bnei Yisroel. The farmer continues and tells of HaShem’s answering their cries of pain with a miraculous exodus.

Why the history lesson – why not a simple “Thank You HaShem”? Yaakov’s story, and subsequently our nation’s story, is our story. From Yaakov to the nation in Egypt, to the farmer planting a seed, the message is all the same. All face challenges and hardships. Yet, all saw good. Yaakov became the father of Bnei Yisroel. The Jews enslaved in Egypt were freed and became a great nation. And the farmer saw his seeds rise to a flourishing crop. A reminder to the farmer – a reminder to us – not to despair. All will be good with HaShem’s help.

V’amarta, to tell over. As the daughter and granddaughter of Holocaust survivors, the message of bikurim is especially powerful. They endured much pain and darkness. But then, like the farmer, they planted new seeds. And like the farmer who has emuna that his seeds will take root, my parents and grandparents davened to see a beautiful crop, a new beginning, trusting that HaShem will be with them. And, like the farmer offering his prayer of thanks, I remember my parents and grandparents thanking HaShem for bringing them to a time in life where they saw true nachas, the bracha of a growing family, another link in the chain of Am Yisroel.

We are in Chodesh Elul. There is a well-known saying from Rav Shneur Zalman of Ladi, HaMelech ba’sadeh, the King is in the field. HaShem, the King, so to say, leaves His palace and comes to the field to be with His people. To listen to our tefillos and bakashos, our prayers and requests. From this week’s parsha, we learn lessons from the field. We learn from the farmer who doesn’t bring bikurim when his entire crop is fully grown. He brings the first fruits. So too, Elul is not only a time to ask Hashem for what we need. It is a time to stop and recognize the blessings we already have. Lessons of humility and gratitude. Lessons to bring us closer to our King. Like the farmer bringing bikurim, it is a time to realize that all the good in our life comes from HaShem.

By Rabbi YY Jacobson

Make a Confession!

I want to achieve an ambitious goal with this essay: I want to bring back confession to Judaism. People attribute confession to Catholicism; they think it is the job of the priests. I believe it is time to bring it back to our people. I am going to ask each of my readers that during the following day you should make at least one confession.

Now before you dismiss my plea, allow me to explain myself.

Tithing Cycle

This week’s parsha, Ki Tavo, discusses an interesting law known as “Vidui Maaser,” “the Tithing Confession.”

In the Holy Land, tithes must be taken from one’s crops, according to a set three-year cycle. During each of the three years, a portion of the produce (around 2 percent) is given to the Kohanim, the priests, who had no income of their own (due to their Temple service). This is known as terumah. Another portion of the produce (around 10 percent) was given to the Leviim, who also had no income of their own, as they also served in the Temple and served as teachers. This was known as maasar reshon, the first tithing. There were other tithes that differed from year to year. Here is a quick glance: Year 1—in addition to terumah and maser reshon, you separate a portion of the crop, known as maaser sheni. This is taken by the owner to Yerushalayim and eaten there. It gave Jews an opportunity to spend time in the Holy City, contribute to its economy, and learn from its masters.

Year 2 – same as year one.

Year 3—in addition to terumah and maser reshon, a portion of the crop was separated and given to the poor, known as maaser ani (this was in addition to many other contributions made to the poor from each farm.)

Year 4 – same as years 1-2.

Year 5 – same as years 1-2, 4.

Year 6 – same as year 3.

Year 7 – This was a sabbatical year, shemitah, in which no plowing or planting was permitted, and no tithes were given. That year the field was open to everybody to enjoy. Now, on the day before Pesach of year four and year seven, every owner must make sure that he has delivered all the tithes of the past three years to their proper destination—to the Kohanim, the Leviim, and the poor. Then, on the last day of Pesach of the 4th and 7th years, the farmer recites a special declaration found in this week’s parsha.

Let us review the text in the Torah:

“You shall say before G-d your Lord: I have removed all the sacred portions from my house. I have given the appropriate portions to the Levite, to the convert, to the orphan and to the widow, following all the commandments You prescribed to us. I have not violated your commandments, and have not forgotten anything… I have listened to the voice of the Lord my G-d; I have done everything You commanded me…” Basically, G-d wants us to verbally declare that we have done everything right. We distributed all the produce we were required to. We tell G-d bluntly that we perfectly implemented all of His commandments on this matter.

This is, no doubt, an interesting mitzvah. G-d wants us to compliment ourselves. He wants us to declare emphatically: G-d! I did it, and I did it well!

But why? He knows we did it. We know we did it. What is the point of making this official verbal declaration?

We have no other precedent for this in Judaism—to literally compliment ourselves before the Almighty!

This Is a Confession?

What is stranger is that this recitation has a name in all of Talmudic literature: Vidui Maaser, “the Tithing Confession.” Yet virtually, this recitation is the furthest thing from a confession. A “vidui,” a confession, in its classic sense, means that we admit our guilt and ask for forgiveness. We have in Judaism a number of confessional prayers (most of them will be recited on Yom Kippur, the day of confession and atonement), and they all share the same message: Ashamnu, bagadnu, gazalnu, debarnu dofi… “We are guilty; we have dealt treacherously; we have stolen; we spoke falsely, etc.” We confess for the sins and errors that we committed in one form or another, we express remorse and we resolve to change in the future.

Yet in this case, we encounter a “confession” of a diametrically opposite nature. Imagine you approach your wife and say: My dear, I want to make a confession to you. Your wife’s ears perk up to hear what you did this time. You continue: “I want to confess to you today, that I am a wonderful, accomplished, flawless, magnificent, incredible, sensitive, kind, caring, handsome, and passionate husband and father. I have fulfilled all of my duties; I have been loyal to you with every fiber of my being; I have dutifully always fulfilled all my responsibilities; I forgot nothing, I did not transgress; I have been faithful and dutiful, committed and moral. Alas, I am the perfect man.”

Well, call this guy any name you’d like, but for G-d’s sake, it is not a confession!… Yet, astoundingly, this is exactly what we do with the “tithe confession.” Listen to the words: “You shall say before G-d your Lord: I have removed all the sacred portions from my house. I have given the appropriate portions to the Levite, to the convert, to the orphan, and to the widow, following all the commandments You prescribed to us. I have not violated your commandments, and have not forgotten anything… I have listened to the voice of the Lord my G-d; I have done everything You commanded me.”

And Judaism calls this a confession, a “vidui”!

Perhaps if more Jews would know that this is “confession,” we would not leave this art to the Catholics; the synagogue would have long lines every day of Jews coming to confess, telling us that they are absolutely perfect, impeccable, flawless, and faultless. A Catholic boy and a Jewish boy were talking and the Catholic boy said, “My priest knows more than your rabbi.” The Jewish boy said, “Of course he does, you tell him everything.” Poor Christians! They think confession is sharing all the negative stuff. Nonsense! Confession is saying how perfect you are. “I have fulfilled all of your commandments.”

I’m Awesome

Yet it is in this very mitzvah of “tithing confession” that we encounter an incredible truth: It is important for people to verbalize, from time to time, how good they are, how beautiful they are, how powerful they are. Not in a generic, meaningless, and foolish way, and certainly not in a haughty way, but rather in a very specific, directed, and focused manner. There is always one area, one aspect of your life in which you are a success story. And you need to be able to see it and verbalize it. In this above law, the Jew specifies that as far as tithing is concerned, he has done a magnificent job.

And this is called “confession.” Do you know why? See how the Sages, 1800 years before the development of many psychological schools of healing and therapy, taught us this potent truth: Only when I believe that I am good, I’m capable of regretting my mistakes. If I believe that I am just a dirty old rat, I can’t really regret my wrongdoings, because I see them as inevitable. When I appreciate my potential for greatness, I can hold myself accountable for my errors.

Genuine confession requires not only acknowledging and confronting a mistake; it also requires a belief that you are essentially good, that you are capable of being good, and that in some areas you are exceptionally good. If my garment is raddled with stains, and you pour some orange juice on it, it won’t bother me. I may not even notice it. But if I am wearing a fresh, clean, and beautiful suit and you spill the chocolate mousse with vanilla on it, I will take note. If I consider my soul dirty and filthy, I can’t even take note of my inappropriate and immoral behaviors, of my hurtful words, of my toxic thoughts; they fit right in with my distorted self. Only when I appreciate my innate dignity, majesty, and purity, can I begin to notice and feel bad about all that which tarnishes and eclipses such a beautiful life.

Have you ever heard a couple argue in the following manner? She: Darling, you are making a mistake again.

He: Of course! I am always wrong; you are always right. I am the dumb, stupid, bad, husband, who is always dead wrong. You are the perfect wife. You are never ever wrong. Well, we all know that no woman is pleased with this acknowledgment. Because it is meaningless and cynical. Whenever anybody says, “I am always wrong,” it means “I am never wrong; you are just impossible to please.” Whenever anybody says, “you are always right,” it means “you are never right.” Sincere confession means that I am sometimes right. But now I am wrong. I am not always wrong; it is now that I am wrong.

There is a verse in Shir Hashirim: “I am dark and beautiful.” These are the two interconnected sides necessary for all personal growth: I am dark, I may have succumbed to darkness, but I am inherently beautiful. Hence, 1) I regret what I did. I know that it did not befit me; I am so much better. I want to fix it, because this behavior compromises my inherent beauty. 2) I acknowledge that I had the power not to do it; it was not inevitable. I was capable of choosing otherwise and I regret my wrongdoing. 3) I know that I possess the power to fix it for the future. I am not a victim.

To truly confess a mistake or a sin requires that I can sometimes tell G-d: I am good! I am great! I have done exactly what You wanted. I have not transgressed. And because I am capable of doing things correctly, I can sincerely regret my actions when I fail to do so. The tithing declaration is called confession because it enables and gives meaning to all other confessions of repentance.

An Exercise

So, I return to my original plea: I want each of you to make a confession today. Tell someone—your rabbi, your friend, your spouse—something very positive about yourself. One positive thing about your soul and your life. Something you are proud of. Not in an arrogant way, but as a “confession.” Because when you realize how good and capable you are, you might ask yourself the question, why I’m I not living up to my potential?

By Rabbi Efrem Goldberg

One day in 2022, Azriel was minding his own business when he got a call from Charlotte. She introduced herself as the president of Congregation Anshei Shalom, a large Conservative Temple in Century Village in West Palm Beach, Florida and she asked him to come to a meeting of her board. Despite not having any idea why he was called, Azriel agreed to attend the meeting. It turns out, CAS may have been a large temple in square footage but was shrinking and now fairly small in membership. They used to have 1,000 members but were now at the point that they couldn’t put a minyan together even counting men and women combined. There are 2,000 yahrzeit plaques on the walls and essentially that is where nearly all their membership is today.

The board was interested to find out if the growing orthodox population in the area was interested in renting space for their services. The chapel has a separate entrance and separate bathroom facilities enabling two groups to simultaneously use the campus while maintaining their separate identity and function. Azriel listened to the proposal and responded that he is just a simple Jew, not any sort of macher or leader in Century Village and that he lives a mile and a half away, probably too far to even be able to attend Shabbos services. He said, “I love you with all of my heart, not as cousins but as my brothers and sisters. However, the likelihood of Orthodox people renting space at the Temple is very remote.” He explained that they could try to work something out but that a long-term deal to share space was very unlikely. They ended the meeting with the possibility of continuing the conversation but pessimistic they would work something out.

Azriel went to his Orthodox shul the next morning for davening and told some of the chevra there about this meeting. One friend advised to go back to Charlotte and offer her 1 million dollars to purchase the shul and the campus. The man said he would back up the finances.

Azriel called Charlotte and set up a meeting with the board for the following week. They sat down and he asked them how much would they want for the building. They explained that they had actually done an appraisal and it was worth $6 million. Azriel turned to them and said, I don’t know about that but I will give you $500,000. Additionally, he told them that he would keep every single dedication plaque in the building and would maintain the yahrzeit lights on the thirteen memorial boards. The current temple would be able use the building through the end of the year and the new group would take over January 1. Lastly, he agreed that the large Israeli flag would continue to fly outside the building.

A week later, Charlotte called Azriel to inform him that the board had accepted the offer. Overjoyed, he was prepared to wire over the half million dollars and close the deal.

If only it was that simple. The United Civic Organization of Century Village, where the campus is located, held their board meeting. The president of Century Village got up in front of the whole crowd and said that they have heard that some unknown guy by the name of Azriel has purchased the CAS building for $500,000 and that Century Village is opposed to this sale. He proclaimed that they will do everything in their power to stop the sale and take over the building by themselves. He insisted they will knock down the building and put up a shopping center there and to comply with the deed restriction set up by the original builder of all the Century Villages providing that there has to be a house of worship there, Century Village will put in a Presbyterian church in one of the storefronts. Charlotte and Azriel got wind of what happened and the efforts to interfere with the sale they had agreed upon. The two had the same exact thought. Rather than conduct a sale that could be overruled, Azriel and his friends would all join CAS as members, he would then run for and get elected president, and CAS could keep its name and change its charter. Azriel, of course, had his motivations, but Charlotte, too, was devoted to the continuation of the shul, the yahrzeit lightings, the dedication plaques, and that all of the investment in Yiddishkeit that previous members there had put in for over 50 years. At this point, Charlotte said to forget about the $500,000 and just give $100,000 to pay out CAS’s outstanding bills and obligations. Azriel wired the money and he and his chevra officially took over the board.

At the next Century Village United Civic Organization meeting, Azriel took the microphone and explained to the crowd that he had been elected the President of the Board, there would be no sale of the CAS building, and that services and the shul would continue. Everyone clapped and that put that whole issue to rest.

In December, Azriel met with Charlotte for the handover of the keys to the building. She gave him the keys and told him that she only ended up using $45,000 of the money to pay the bills. She then proceeded to hand him back $55,000.00.

In the end it cost a grand total of $45,000 for a campus that occupies over eight acres of land, includes a main sanctuary that seats 750, with two kitchens, a large social hall, and several offices. There is a large library and beis medrash.

The story of Congregation Anshei Shalom is extraordinary but there is one question that was still left to be asked. Azriel wanted to know, why him? How did Charlotte find him and why was he the one she called, seemingly out of the blue, about the possibility of an Orthodox congregation renting space?

Azriel moved to Century Village around ten years ago. He met a neighbor, Janet, who told him about a kosher bakery at BJs on State Rd 7 in Royal Palm Beach. Janet would buy her Shabbos challah there and, she added, once she’s there she would buy the rotisserie chicken for Shabbos from there as well.

Azriel couldn’t understand. Janet, at the time was close to 90 years old. She would shlep five miles for kosher challah and yet she had no problem eating treif chicken? Azriel had an idea. He would going to Glicks in Delray each Friday morning to buy food for Shabbos and food for the following week. He started picking up a chicken for Janet each and every Friday and leaving it on her door handle for Shabbos. Every Monday night, Janet played in the same mahjong game with Charlotte. One week, Charlotte is describing how her temple is hemorrhaging members and in financial trouble. She shares that since so many Orthodox Jews are moving in, maybe they would be interested in the space, she just wishes she knew someone to call about the possibility of renting. Janet says, I know just the person, I have an amazing neighbor who is so kind and thoughtful, he picks up a kosher chicken for me each and every week. For $45,000, a large Orthodox shul now hosts three weekday Shacharis minyanim, two weekday Mincha/Maariv minyanim, two Shabbos morning minyanim, Daf Yomi shiurim, and so much more… all because a simple Jew cared about his neighbor and brought her a chicken weekly.

The word Elul, the month we find ourselves in, is an acronym for many phrases and pesukim. Perhaps the most famous, Ani l’Dodi v’Dodi li, I am to my Beloved and my Beloved is to me, reflects our special loving relationship with our Creator and the effort we are instructed to make during this time of year to come closer and closer with Him. Less famous but as important is the acronym, taken from the words of Megillas Esther, “ish l’reiehu u’matanos l’evyonim, a person to their friend and generosity to those who need.” This time of year is also dedicated to coming closer with one another, displaying care, concern, connection, and community. How devoted are we to our neighbors, without caring if we are similar or different? Are we generous with those who may feel isolated or alone? A single parent was recently telling me how few invitations he has received since his divorce and how alone the children and he feel.

Caring about our neighbors is the right thing to do, but it is also what Hashem looks for and loves, His children caring for one another. We describe Hashem as tzilcha, our shadow. His attitude towards us is a shadow, a reflection of how he sees us act towards other. If we want Him to judge us favorably and show devotion to us, we need Him to see us devoted to and caring about our neighbors.

For the cost of a rotisserie chicken, we can create and show love, to an entire community.

INGREDIENTS:

2.5-3 lbs boneless flanken roast
1 large onion, chopped
2-3 Yukon gold Potatoes, chopped
Sauce
1/2 c bbq sauce
1/4 c honey
1 tbsp mustard
Salt & Pepper
Garlic powder
1/4 c olive oil
1/2 c water

DIRECTIONS:

The meat is so tender you don’t need a
knife. It’s delicious and easy to make. It
will denitely become a family favorite
and the star of your dinner table.In an
oven, safe pan, drizzle some olive oil,
and then add in your chopped onions
and potatoes. Place your meat on top of
that in a separate bowl whisk the sauce
ingredients. Pour over your meat and
potatoes cover with a piece of wet,
parchment paper and the lid. Place in a
350° oven for three hours then uncover
for an additional 30 minutes.

By Rabbi Shay Tahan

It sounds almost like something from a bizarre movie: a prison surrounded by trenches filled with crocodiles. Yet this is precisely the unusual security proposal being advanced by Israel’s National Security Minister, Itamar Ben-Gvir. The plan calls for Nile crocodiles to be placed in trenches surrounding Ketziot Prison in southern Israel, where Palestinian security prisoners, including detainees from Gaza, are being held. Supporters of the initiative argue that the crocodiles could provide an additional deterrent against escape while reducing the burden on prison guards. The proposal has already moved beyond the realm of a mere idea: trenches have reportedly been dug at the facility, and preparations have been made for a pilot program. For now, however, the plan has been put on hold. A Jerusalem District Court issued a temporary injunction preventing the transfer of crocodiles to the prison after an animal-welfare organization challenged the government’s authority to implement the project and raised concerns about the welfare of the animals. Thus, in an extraordinary twist, the immediate legal obstacle to the “crocodile prison” has not been the security concerns surrounding the prisoners, but the question of whether the crocodiles themselves may legally be brought to the site.

But this unusual proposal raises an equally unusual halachic question: Is it permissible to bring and maintain wild and dangerous animals in a place where people are present? While the public debate has focused on the security of the prisoners and, somewhat ironically, on the welfare of the reptiles themselves, there is another concern that deserves attention: the safety of the general public. What happens if a crocodile escapes from its enclosure? What if someone accidentally falls into one of the trenches? And more fundamentally, does halachah permit a person to deliberately create a potential source of danger, even when it is intended to serve a legitimate security purpose? In this article, we will examine the relevant sources in Chazal and the poskim concerning dangerous animals, the obligation to avoid creating situations of danger, and the extent to which one may introduce and maintain inherently dangerous animals in an area where people are present.

The Torah establishes that, under ordinary circumstances, when an animal causes damage, its owner is liable for only half of the damage. Such an animal is considered tam, meaning that it has not yet established a pattern of causing damage. After the animal has caused damage on three occasions and thereby established itself as one that is likely to cause harm, it becomes a mu’ad, and its owner is liable for the full amount of the damage.

The Mishnah (Bava Kamma 15b), however, teaches that this rule does not apply equally to all animals. Certain animals are considered mu’ad from the outset, meaning that their dangerous nature is so well established that they are treated as mu’ad even before they have caused any damage. The Mishnah lists several examples, including the lion, wolf, bear, leopard, and snake. Since these animals are inherently dangerous, they are considered mu’ad from the outset, and their owners are subject to the greater liability associated with a mu’ad.

In light of this principle, one might ask whether a crocodile should likewise be included among the animals that are mu’ad from the outset. A crocodile is a large and inherently dangerous wild animal, capable of causing severe injury or death. Unlike a domesticated animal, it cannot ordinarily be presumed to be harmless simply because it has not previously caused damage.

The discussion, however, goes beyond the question of financial liability. The Maharshal, in his Yam Shel Shlomo, makes a significant point concerning dangerous animals. He writes that, in addition to the owner’s liability for damage caused by such an animal, one is not permitted to bring such wild and dangerous animals into his possession in the first place.

This introduces a second and fundamentally different halachic question. The first concerns liability for damages: if a dangerous animal causes injury or property damage, what responsibility does its owner bear? The second concerns the very act of keeping the animal: is a person permitted to keep a dangerous creature when doing so creates a potential danger to others?

This distinction is particularly relevant to the proposed use of crocodiles at a prison. Even if the crocodiles were to be kept in specially constructed trenches, securely separated from the prisoners and from the general public, and even if their sole purpose were to provide an additional layer of security, the question remains whether halachah permits the deliberate introduction and maintenance of such inherently dangerous animals in an area where human beings are present.

Thus, the issue is not merely what the halachah would require if a crocodile escaped and caused damage. The more fundamental question is whether one may create such a potential danger in the first place.

To explore this question, we must turn to another Mishnah in Bava Kamma (79b), which addresses the question of keeping a potentially dangerous animal. The Mishnah teaches that one may not raise a dog unless it is kept securely chained. The Gemara (83a) further explains that there are circumstances in which a person may keep a dog for security purposes. For example, people who live near the border of enemy territory may keep the dog chained during the day and release it at night while they sleep, allowing it to protect them from potential danger.

From this discussion, we can potentially derive two important principles relevant to our case.

First, the danger posed by an animal may be mitigated when the animal is properly secured and prevented from coming into contact with people. The Gemara’s discussion of a chained dog demonstrates that the mere possession of a potentially dangerous animal does not necessarily constitute a prohibition when adequate precautions are taken to prevent it from causing harm. This could be relevant to the proposed crocodiles, which are intended to remain within specially constructed trenches and away from areas accessible to the public. Second, the Gemara establishes that there are circumstances in which a dangerous animal may be kept for a legitimate security purpose. The Gemara specifically discusses people living in dangerous areas who are permitted to keep a dog for protection. Accordingly, one might argue that just as a dangerous dog may be kept when it serves to protect people from an external threat, so too a crocodile could potentially be permitted when it serves a security function—such as preventing dangerous terrorists from escaping and potentially causing further harm.

Thus, the proposed use of crocodiles presents two possible grounds for leniency: the animals are intended to be securely contained, and their presence serves a legitimate security purpose.

By Rabbi Reuven and Shira Boshnack

Dear Rabbi and Shira,

Hi! I’m a big fan of your column and enjoy reading it on a weekly basis. I’m having a problem dating. My next-door neighbor, Moshe and I grew

up together. Our parents are best friends, and we speak often daily. I’m now in Shidduchim, and I can’t stop thinking and comparing everyone

who I go out with to Moshe. I think were perfect for each other and share so much in common; goals, dreams and background. I brought this up

to him and he agrees that we are compatible but he’s not ready to date yet. What should I do?

-Stuck on Moshe

Dear Stuck on Moshe, Hello. It seems you’re in a bit of bind. Is it fair to date these other men if you’re still fixated on Moshe? Is it fair to yourself to wait until Moshe is ready?

What are your options?

You can give up on the Moshe idea. When you consider all the possibilities in any situation, you could be paralyzed by the almost limitless choices. This feeling presents itself in what we call F.O.M.O., which stands for fear of missing out. When you think in a FOMO way, you are consistently looking over your shoulder, considering possibilities that could happen that you are not actually exploring. By never being present, and always looking at what could be, or could be missed, you never enjoy what is happening now. If you close your eyes, and every time your mind starts a sentence with “But Moshe,” turn your thoughts, gently but firmly to the matter at hand. Tell yourself, I’m not dating Moshe. He’s not currently a possibility; he’s not interested in dating me now.

You could continue to date people without putting this to rest. Without doing so, you will constantly return to Moshe. This isn’t particularly fair to the guys you are dating, as you are not present. You are too busy involved in a fantasy world with Moshe. Until you decide that “possibilities with Moshe” are only possibilities, you don’t really stand a chance to create much of a reality with anyone else. You could wait till Moshe is ready. The question is can you wait? Are you willing to take the chance that you’ll pass up something better? Is there really a future with Moshe, or just an ideal, which you haven’t really met yet? Regardless, we think it would be a good idea to curtail conversations with Moshe at this time. Conversations will only confuse you, not allow you to focus on the present and will prevent you from truly giving other people and yourself a chance to find a long-lasting relationship.

Good Luck!

Rabbi Reuven and Shira Boshnack.

By Rabbi Moishe Dovid Lebovits

In shul many men place their tallis over their head for the entire davening. Some do so only after Barchu, while others do not cover their head with a tallis at all.

What is the reasoning behind covering one’s head with a tallis, and is one required to do so? Is it a custom or halachah? Should a tallis cover the head for the entire davening or only during certain parts?

The Lenient Approach

The opinion of the Baal Ha’itur1 is that as long as one is wearing a yarmulke so that his head is covered while making the brachah on the tallis, this is enough and there is no requirement to place a tallis on his head as well.

The Stricter Opinion

The Beis Yosef mentions that it is the practice of those who are “modest” to cover their heads with a tallis, even if they are already wearing a head covering. This is quoted in the Bach, as well as others.

The Rema

Darchei Moshe, the Rema’s commentary on the Beis Yosef, mentions that although it’s a mitzvah to listen to the Beis Yosef, in this situation the halachah follows the Baal Ha’itur mentioned above.

Shulchan Aruch

When discussing covering one’s head with a tallis, the Shulchan Aruch mentions that “it is proper” to do so. Based on this, even if one does cover his head it’s a proper thing to do and not an obligation.

Entire Davening

The opinion of the Bach is that one should leave his head covered with his tallis throughout the entire davening. This is quoted by others as well. Some mention that this means from the beginning of davening until the end, and not just for Shemoneh Esrei. Even if one is lenient and only covers his head for certain parts of davening, he should cover it for Shemoneh Esrei and Chazaras Hashatz.

After Barchu

Many have the custom to cover their head from after Barchu until after Shemoneh Esrei.

Purpose of the Tallis Covering

Covering one’s head with a tallis, in addition to one’s regular head covering, brings one to humility and yiras Shamayim.

Other Opinions

The Kitzur Shulchan Aruch mentions that after one makes the brachah on the tallis and covers his head, he may remove the tallis from his head.

Elya Rabbah mentions that one’s tallis should cover his head from the beginning of davening until the end. One shouldn’t be like those who take their tallis off their head and place it on their shoulders.

Unlearned Person

The Magen Avraham mentions that if one is not a learned person, even if he is married he should not cover his head with a tallis.

Chazzan Covering His Head

A chazzan should always keep his head covered during davening. Some are lenient when it is hot, but he should keep his head covered during Krias Shema, Shemoneh Esrei, Krias HaTorah, and Chazaras Hashatz.

Ein K’Elokeinu

Before reciting Ein K’Elokeinu, some have the custom (based on Kabbalah) to remove the tallis from their head.

Aleinu

The Machzik Brachah mentions that the tefillah of Aleinu is more praiseworthy than any other tefillah, and it should be said with a tallis on his head or a hat.

Single Boy

A single boy should not cover his head with a tallis (if his custom is to wear one).

Yom Kippur

On Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, many men are accustomed to covering their head more often with their tallis, especially during Neilah. Some have the practice to recite Ashrei and Uva L’tzion without a tallis on the head.

Krias HaTorah

In Chassidic circles the custom is that the tallis is not kept on the head for krias haTorah, but the Rebbe wears his shtreimel during krias haTorah.

Harav Chaim Kanievsky, shlita, mentions that if by keeping a tallis on one’s head he will not be able to hear krias haTorah properly, then he does not have to keep his head covered with a tallis. However, otherwise he should keep it on his head. Even if one can hear the leining the custom is that one does not cover his head during it, since krias haTorah is considered learning Torah and not davening.

During the Heat

Although it is proper to cover one’s head during davening, as mentioned above, in the summer when it is hot and hard to concentrate during davening some say that one can be lenient.

Other Customs

The Keser Shem Tov says that in London, the custom was that people did not cover their heads with a tallis when reciting any brachah or during davening. Only the chazzan and the baal tokei’a did so on Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, and Hoshanah Rabbah. In Amsterdam, the custom was that the Rav and Dayan would cover their head during davening.

In South Africa, the custom is that most people do not cover their heads with a tallis during davening, and it is only the learned people who do so. One who is not a Rav and covers his head with a tallis is regarded as a show-off.

The Opinion of Harav Yosef Ber Soloveitchik, zt”l

The opinion of Harav Yosef Ber Soloveitchik, zt”l, as mentioned by Harav Hershel Shachter, shlita, in Nefesh Harav, is that one should cover his head for “devarim sh’bekedushah (such as Kaddish and Barchu), as well as Shemoneh Esrei, but one should remove it from his head during Birkas Krias Shema (author’s note: although one doesn’t see this being done too often).

The Sharp Words of the Be’er Moshe

The following is paraphrased from the Be’er Moshe’s response to those who do not cover their head with a tallis: “Now I would like to talk about the ‘bad’ custom in America; G-d forbid to call it a minhag, but a bad act. It is bad in my eyes that people take off their tallis from their heads during davening and only daven with a yarmulke on their heads. One, their head should be covered during davening, and second, it is not derech eretz and respectful to stand in front of the Shechinah as one does when he is talking to his friend. It is a great wonder in my eyes that this bad custom of davening with only a yarmulke has developed in certain Chassidish shuls as well and they are not embarrassed. One should do what he can to rectify this.”

By Rabbi Aryeh Lebowitz

And Miriam the prophetess, the sister of Aharon, took the drum in her hand, and all of the women followed her with drums and dances.

Shemos 15:20 Introduction

Singing Shabbos zemiros is a special activity that many Jewish families engage in that allows them to bond through song and unite in praising Hashem.

Among different groups of religious Jews, there are divergent practices as to how the zemiros are sung when there are non-family members present. For example, the daughters of Rav Pinchas Mordechai Teitz report that their custom, based on the practice of Rav Preil (Rav Teitz’s father-in-law), was that everyone at the table, including women, would sing zemiros, whether they were related or not. This practice seemed foreign to many of the Eastern European gedolim who would eat at their table on their visits to America. In many other communities, women or daughters above a certain age refrain from singing along unless everyone at the table is an immediate relative. Is one of these practices more preferable?

Furthermore, if one who has the practice not to participate in zemiros together with women finds himself at a Shabbos table where they are singing together, what is the appropriate response?

The Source

Chazal (Berachos 24a) teach that “Kol b’ishah ervah,” a woman’s singing voice is considered to be a form of nakedness. This concept precludes one from reciting krias Shema in the presence of a singing woman (Shulchan Aruch, OC 75).

The Gemara in Sotah (48a) teaches: Rav Yosef said: When men sing and women respond, it is an expression of immodesty. When women sing and men respond, it is like fire among flax [i.e., extremely dangerous]. What is the practical implication of this? To prioritize annulling the latter (women singing and men responding) before the former (men singing and women responding).

Rashi (s.v. k’eish) explains that when the men are leading the song and the women are answering, it is problematic because the men will be listening to the women’s singing in the periphery. However, when the women are leading the song, it is worse, since the men have to pay very close attention in order to know what and when to respond.

It is clear from the Gemara that listening to a woman sing is a serious halachic problem even if it is a group of women.

Rav Tzvi Pesach Frank (Har Tzvi, EH 71) indeed concludes that there is no difference between a group of women singing and an individual woman, citing this Gemara as proof.

In Shul

The Chasam Sofer (5:190) discusses the case of a shul in which women would sing along with the men and their voices were audible in the men’s section. He rules that this is problematic, even though they are engaged in a dvar mitzvah and the men are singing along with the group of women. He adds that it will serve to ruin the men’s kavanah and cause the tefillos to be rejected.

Zemiros

The Be’er Sheva (Be’er Mayim Chayim 3) writes that singing zemiros in a co-ed environment, especially if some of the women are married, ignores the fact that this mitzvah leads to aveiros, and it is a very objectionable practice. The Tzitz Eliezer (7:28) similarly rules that a man who was offered a job to recite Kiddush for a large group of girls should not accept the offer if he will have to be in the room when the girls are singing zemiros.

The Seridei Eish

Considering the above words of such important poskim who strongly reject the practice, how is it that many great rabbanim permitted co-ed zemiros in youth groups and in their own homes?

The source for leniency in this matter generally begins with Rav Yechiel Yaakov Weinberg, the Seridei Eish, who wrote a famous teshuvah regarding a French youth group called Yeshurun, which was similar to an NCSY kiruv organization in its time. He offers three main reasons to permit the boys and the girls to sing together.

1. There is a concept of “trei kolei lo mishtamei” – two concurrent voices (or sounds) cannot be properly heard. If the entire problem of kol ishah is that one will focus on the source of the singing, kol ishah becomes less of an issue when a group is singing, as it is difficult to discern the precise voice that one is hearing. 2. When singing shirei kodesh, there is less of a concern that the singing will lead to improper thoughts or behaviors, due to the holiness of the content.

3. Perhaps the shirei kodesh themselves will cause the participants to concentrate on the meaning of the words, and it will allow them to maintain an air of seriousness and spirituality and to ignore any possible negatives that the kol ishah might cause. Rav Weinberg adds that there is an additional concept called “Eis la’asos LaHashem hefeiru Torasecha.” When there is a threat to the entire Torah, there is the possibility (under the guidance of great Torah leaders) to compromise on certain halachos with the cheshbon that doing so will lead to greater Torah observance. He points out that youth groups run by experts in kiruv and education have determined that singing is one of the most effective ways to give children and teenagers a meaningful and positive Shabbos and religious experience, and it is essential to promoting a generally positive view of Torah and mitzvos.

Rav Weingberg points out that both Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch and Rav Ezriel Hildesheimer permitted men and women to sing zemiros together at the Shabbos table. Although his background (the Lithuanian yeshivos) never would have tolerated such a practice, this was the accepted minhag in Germany and was effective for their communities.

He attempts to prove his ruling based on a pasuk in Shoftim (5:1) describing the Song of Devorah together with Barak ben Avinoam.

Opposition to the Seridei Eish

Those who criticize the Seridei Eish’s ruling point out that the concept of trei kolei lo mishtamei is specifically not relevant to the Gemara’s discussion, as noted by the Har Tzvi. The concept of not hearing two voices together relates to the focus on the individual, not a lack of effectiveness of the sound. Thus, it is possible that multiple voices might make the violation of kol ishah even worse, as the multiple voices might produce an even more pleasing sound.

Conclusion

Although the question requires much more elaboration and explanation, it is clear that there are great gedolei Torah on both sides of this issue. It seems that while in Eastern Europe this practice was unheard of, in Western Europe it was fairly common, even among very religious families. Therefore, if one finds himself at a table where the women are singing along with the men, he should not protest or give indications of his disapproval. When deciding what to do in one’s own household, it is clear that the majority of poskim, including Rav Yosef Shalom Elyashiv and Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach, rule stringently that women should not sing zemiros or shirei kodesh together with men. As with all chinuch decisions in one’s home, a fair amount of common sense needs to be balanced with a knowledge of the halacha.

By Rabbi Dr. Yaakov Abramovitz

Before bidding farewell, Moshe Rabbeinu delivers the tochacha, a warning of all the horrific curses and tragedies that will befall the Jewish people should they fail in their religious responsibilities. It’s one harrowing, foreshadowed catastrophe after another – nearly 100 in all! No wonder we are so eager to rush through this laining as quickly and quietly as possible.

As these 50-plus verses can be a lot to take in at once, let us take note of just one – the one that identifies the root cause of all these calamities. Why would such misfortune ever occur? “Because you have not served Hashem, your G-d with joy and with gladness of heart” (Devarim 28:47).

The commentators are divided in how to understand this critical pasuk.

Rabbeinu Bechaye, the classic 14th-century commentator, has a remarkable interpretation. The verse implies that the people are serving Hashem – albeit without any sense of happiness or satisfaction. If so, these disastrous curses are not deserved for completely abandoning the mitzvos or engaging in immoral behavior. It is the robotic and unenthusiastic performance of mitzvos that will prove to be so destructive! According to this approach, it is not enough to simply go through the motions and check off a series of boxes throughout our day. Avodas Hashem must be coupled with an appreciation for the depths of our Torah, and a feeling of how fortunate we are to have an ongoing relationship with our Creator. Performing mitzvos with simcha is not just an exalted level reserved for the religious elite; it is a standard expected of everyone. By studying the wisdom and beauty of the mitzvos, can we find meaning and joy in our observance that will prevent our religious obligations from feeling like a series of curses. However, Rav Baruch HaLevi Epstein zt”l (in Tosefes Bracha) has a very different interpretation of this pasuk. He argues, against Rabbeinu Bechaye, that it is untenable that Hashem would punish B’nei Yisrael so devastatingly if they are, in fact, observing the letter of the law. Therefore, he proposes a very different read of the verse. These curses will befall the nation if they violate the ways of the Torah – and they do these aveiros with a sense of enjoyment and satisfaction. In other words, “joy and gladness of heart” are not descriptions of what is missing from mitzvah observance; they are features of the ultimate rejection of the Torah.

According to this approach, Hashem is understanding when people are drawn toward temptation or struggle with old habits. It is not the technical transgressions themselves that trigger the horrors of the tochacha. True tragedy strikes only when aveiros become a source of joy, and an anti-Torah lifestyle is embraced as the ideal.

Putting these opposite interpretations of the pasuk together, we can get a sense of the importance of emotion and passion in Avodas Hashem. Mitzvos cannot just be “done” – they require a sense of profound contentment. Aveiros may be inevitable – but they cannot become our preferred way of life. As long as mitzvos are joyful and aveiros are not, we can avoid the tochacha.

The great chassidic master, Reb Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev zy”a, would encourage his followers to host extravagant seudos mitzvah when performing a bris milah. At each party, the rebbe would turn to Hashem and exclaim, “Ribbono Shel Olam: Look how your beloved children celebrate mitzvos with such joy! True, they may stumble occasionally – but their aveiros are always behind closed doors and with a sense of embarrassment. Only their mitzvos are adorned with a public display of simcha!”

As we continue through Elul – a month named for our beloved bond with Hashem – let us work on renewing a sense of excitement and joy in this relationship!