Some things change, while other things remain remarkably the same. What appears to us to be new and unprecedented has often happened before. History has a way of repeating itself, and the Jewish people have learned, sometimes painfully, that the circumstances may change, the personalities may change, and the challenges may take on new forms, but the underlying story is often familiar.

Today, there is understandably deep concern about the situation in Eretz Yisroel. Many are watching the political developments with trepidation, wondering what the future will bring if the polls predicting the political demise of Binyomin Netanyahu prove accurate. There is a fear that the next government will be even less sympathetic, and perhaps openly hostile, to the Torah community and the values that have sustained Klal Yisroel throughout the generations.

The concern is real. The uncertainty is real. But before allowing ourselves to become overwhelmed by the headlines and the predictions, it is worth taking a step back and looking at the larger picture. We have been here before, not necessarily with the same names, the same parties, or the same political circumstances, but with the same fundamental question of what happens when the forces of government turn against the Torah world.

The answer, as Jewish history has taught us repeatedly, is not found merely in political calculations. Governments rise and fall. Coalitions are formed and dissolved. Leaders who seem invincible suddenly disappear from the political stage and those who appear destined for obscurity rise to prominence. But the Torah remains, and so does the eternal commitment of Klal Yisroel to it.

That does not mean that we should ignore the danger or minimize the challenges confronting the Torah community. On the contrary, we must understand them clearly. But we should remember that the Jewish people have survived far more uncertain times and that what looks like an entirely new chapter may simply be another variation of an old story.

We are obligated to remember that Hakadosh Boruch Hu is in charge. Not the polls. Not the politicians. Not the political parties. Not the pundits who confidently predict what tomorrow will bring. The Ribbono Shel Olam runs the world, and every development, even those that appear frightening or incomprehensible to us, takes place under His Hashgocha Protis.

We have a responsibility to be vigilant, to advocate for the Torah community, and to do everything within our ability to protect the interests of Torah and Yiddishkeit. But alongside that hishtadlus is the recognition that the outcome is ultimately not in human hands.

Our obligation is to maintain our emunah and bitachon even when we cannot see how things will work out. It is easy to have bitachon when everything appears to be going our way. The test comes when the polls are ominous, when political alliances seem threatening, and when the future seems uncertain. At those moments, we are reminded that the world does not run according to polls and political predictions. It runs according to the will of Hakadosh Boruch Hu.

And perhaps that is precisely the perspective we need now. We should be concerned, but not frightened; we should be vigilant, but not despairing; we should engage in hishtadlus, but remember Who is directing the outcome.

There is a remarkable story related in the sefer Amudo Shel Olam, a biography of Rav Yosef Shalom Elyashiv, that brings this perspective into sharp focus.

During a particularly bitter Israeli election campaign, the leftist parties had made no secret of their intentions. Among their campaign promises was the drafting of yeshiva bochurim into the army. When the election results came in and those parties emerged victorious, there was apprehension in the religious community. The people who had openly spoken about imposing difficult and potentially devastating decrees on the Torah community were now in a position to carry out their plans.

One of Rav Elyashiv’s talmidim approached him and asked what would happen. The people who hated religion had won. They were about to assume power and would seemingly have the ability to implement everything they had promised during the campaign.

Rav Elyashiv’s response was astonishing in its simplicity.

He told him that thinking about what would happen was bittul Torah.

At first glance, the response is difficult to understand. How could a person be expected not to think about something that potentially threatened the entire Torah community? Surely, it was important to understand the danger and prepare for what might come.

But Rav Elyashiv was teaching his talmid a fundamental yesod in emunah and bitachon. He was telling his questioner that there is a difference between hishtadlus and worrying. There is a difference between doing what must be done as opposed to spending hours imagining everything that might go wrong. A person is obligated to act when action is called for, but once the necessary hishtadlus has been made, there is no purpose in thinking about frightening possibilities.

We do what we can do and the rest is up to Hashem. To discuss it further, to pontificate and fret, and to play out different scenarios in our minds or in discussions with our friends is simply a waste of time. We would be better off spending that time studying Torah.

The question, “What will happen now?” contains within it an assumption that we know what is going to happen. We see a government forming, we see politicians making promises, we read the polls, and we begin constructing a picture of the future. But a Yid knows that the picture we see is not the whole picture.

Politicians can make plans, parties can form coalitions, and governments can announce their intentions, but nothing can happen that Hakadosh Boruch Hu does not allow. What appears to us to be a frightening political development may ultimately lead to an outcome we could never have imagined. And what appears to us to be a setback may contain within it the seeds of a yeshuah.

This is what Rav Elyashiv was reminding his talmid. Don’t spend your time trying to figure out what tomorrow will look like. Your job is to learn Torah, to daven, to do the hishtadlus that is required of you, and to leave the future to the Ribbono Shel Olam.

That message is as relevant today as it was then. In the matter of what is going on here and in Eretz Yisroel, we must always remember that the Aibishter runs the world. We have our tasks, we have our job, we have the reason He placed us in this world, and we should not get sidetracked from our missions.

We must daven. We must strengthen our own study of Torah. That is what we are here for. We do what we can, but we must never allow our concern over what people might do to consume the time and strength that belong to Torah and avodas Hashem.

Rav Elyashiv’s response was a lesson for generations: Do not waste today worrying about a tomorrow that belongs to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. Have faith that you are in good hands and that everything will work out the way Hashem wants it to.

This message was brought home to me in a powerful way by a story Rav Shimon Galei related during his trip to Mexico on Sunday on behalf of Keren Olam HaTorah to raise funds necessary to help support Israeli yeshivos and yungeleit.

In the aftermath of the Holocaust, when the Torah world had been decimated and much of the Torah that had existed in Europe had been lost, many wondered how, and if, it could ever be rebuilt. Generations of talmidei chachomim had been wiped out, yeshivos had been destroyed, and entire communities had disappeared. The devastation was so overwhelming that people feared that the Torah world would not be able to recover.

The Ponovezher Rov, Rav Yosef Shlomo Kahaneman, viewed it differently. He was not worried about whether the Torah world would continue. Hashem promised that Torah would never be forgotten, and a promise from Hashem does not depend upon circumstances.

There was only one question that concerned him: Who would have the zechus to be part of it?

That is a very different way of looking at the present and the future. We are not asked to figure out whether Torah will survive. We are not required to calculate the obstacles or predict how every challenge will unfold. Hashem has already taken care of that.

The calculation we need to make is a much more personal one: Will we be among those who help make it happen? Will we have the zechus to strengthen Torah, to support lomdei Torah, to sustain yeshivos, to give what we can give, and to do what we can do?

We do what is within our power and leave the rest to Hashem. To continue discussing it, pontificating about it, fretting over possible scenarios, and playing out endless versions of what might happen is a waste of time that could be far better spent learning Torah and doing our part to strengthen the Torah world.

The Ponovezher Rov understood that the future of Torah was never in doubt. The only question was who would merit to have a share in it. That question remains ours.

And this is true not only regarding Eretz Yisroel. It is true regarding us here in America, regarding the challenges facing our communities, and certainly regarding the personal challenges that every individual faces.

Nobody escapes having a pekel. Every person has things that don’t go as planned, disappointments that he didn’t anticipate, challenges he would rather not have to deal with, and situations that seem to have no easy solution. Some pekels are heavier than others, but nobody walks through life without one.

The question is not whether we will have a pekel. The question is how we carry it.

Will we allow it to consume us, to fill our minds with endless calculations and what-ifs, and to make us bitter and anxious? Or will we recognize that this, too, is part of the derech that Hashem has chosen for us, do what we can, and then leave the rest in His hands?

The way we relate to our pekel says something profound about who we are. It reveals how much we trust in Hashem, how we respond when life does not conform to our plans, and whether we are able to continue moving forward even when the road takes an unexpected turn.

We cannot choose the pekel we are given, but we can choose how we carry it. And sometimes, the very pekel that we wish we could put down becomes the vehicle through which we grow, become stronger, and discover a deeper emunah in the One Who placed it upon our shoulders.

This week’s parsha, Ki Savo, is fundamentally about emunah and bitachon, about recognizing the Yad Hashem in every aspect of our lives.

The parsha opens with the mitzvah of bikkurim. After a farmer has worked the land and finally sees the fruits of his labor, he brings the first fruits to Yerushalayim. Standing before the mizbei’ach, he recites the pesukim recounting the tzaros of Yaakov Avinu and the suffering of our forefathers in Mitzrayim. He describes how Hakadosh Boruch Hu heard their cries, took them out of Mitzrayim, and brought them to Eretz Yisroel.

He presents the fruits of his labor to the kohein. Then comes the culmination of the mitzvah. The posuk says, “Vesomachta bechol hatov asher nosan lecha Hashem — And you shall rejoice with all the good that Hashem has given you.”

The Torah is teaching us the secret of simcha. Happiness does not come simply from having what we want. It comes from recognizing how we got it and Who gave it to us.

When a person understands that the ultimate determinant of his success is Hakadosh Boruch Hu, he can be fulfilled even when life does not look exactly as he had imagined. And when he recognizes that the One Who created the world created him, knows what is best for him, and has a plan for everything that happens, he can begin to view even difficult circumstances through a different lens.

A person may find himself in a situation he desperately wishes were different. He may have a problem he cannot solve, a disappointment he cannot undo, a pekel he wishes he never had to carry. He has a choice. He can bemoan his fate, wonder why this happened to him, and become consumed by thoughts of how things should have been, or he can remind himself that he is not where he is by accident. Hashem placed him there.

That does not mean that he should be passive. He should do everything within his ability to improve the situation. He should daven, seek advice, make his hishtadlus, and do whatever a responsible person is supposed to do. But once he has done what he can, he should accept it and leave the outcome to Hashem.

He can say to himself, “I am here because Hashem wants me here. There is a reason for this, even if I don’t understand it. My job is to do what I can and wait patiently for Hashem to decide when it is time for me to leave this place.”

He can recognize that Hashem has placed him in this situation, expecting him to strengthen himself, confront the challenge, and do whatever he can to deal with it, rather than allowing himself to become broken and sink into yiush.

That is bitachon. And that is also the path to simcha.

The person who knows that everything is from Hashem does not need everything to be perfect or to change before he can find peace. He can find peace in knowing that his circumstances are being directed by the One Who knows where he needs to be and what he needs to become.

Three times a day, we recite the posuk, “Posei’ach es yodecha umasbia lechol chai ratzon.” At first glance, the posuk seems to be saying that Hashem fulfills the desire of every living creature. But we know that this is not how life appears to work. People have desires that are not fulfilled. They daven for things that do not happen and long for realities that never materialize.

The Tzlach (Brachos 4b) offers a profound explanation. “Posei’ach es yodecha umasbia lechol chai ratzon” does not mean that Hashem gives every person everything he wants. Rather, Hakadosh Boruch Hu gives each person the ability to be satisfied with what he has and to recognize that what Hashem has given him is what is best for him.

That is a much deeper understanding of ratzon. A person can spend his life wishing for what he does not have, or he can develop the understanding that what he has is what Hashem has determined he needs.

Yaakov Avinu lived with this awareness. He was forced by his brother into exile, where he was tormented by Lovon and endured years of deception and hardship. Later, he was forced to descend to Mitzrayim. He certainly did not want these things to happen. Yet, he understood that they were not random misfortunes. They were part of the plan Hashem had prepared for him and for Klal Yisroel.

Yaakov went down to Mitzrayim with relatively little. Yet, that descent became the beginning of the transformation of his family into a great nation. What appeared at first to be another painful turn in his life was actually the beginning of the fulfillment of the promise Hashem had made.

This is the perspective that allows a person to persevere when he finds himself in a place he never expected to be. He may not understand why he is there. He may desperately wish that his circumstances were different. But he knows that he has not arrived there by accident. Hashem has placed him there for a reason, and until Hashem decides that the time has come for him to move on, his responsibility is to strengthen himself, do what he can, and trust that there is a purpose in what he cannot understand.

The mitzvah of bikkurim trains a person to develop this perspective. A farmer can look at the fruit in his hands and think only about the work it took to produce it — the planting, the waiting, the uncertainty, the labor, and the many things that could have gone wrong. Or he can stop and recognize how much he has to be thankful for.

He remembers planting the tree without knowing whether it would take root. He remembers waiting through the seasons without knowing whether the tree would produce fruit. He remembers all the possibilities for failure. And now he is standing in Yerushalayim with the fruit in his hands.

The bikkurim compel him to look at what he has and to recognize and proclaim: This came from Hashem.

That is the beginning of simcha. Not the belief that everything will always turn out exactly as we would like, but the recognition that whatever happens is being directed by Hakadosh Boruch Hu and that what He gives us is ultimately for our good.

Too often, we see the burden and forget the blessing. We complain about the struggle to make a living and forget to thank Hashem that we have a job. We focus on the difficulties of our work and not on the fact that we have an income. We see the labor required to cultivate the orchard and forget the miracle of having an orchard that produces fruit.

Bikkurim teaches us to stop and recognize the good.

And perhaps that is why the Torah describes the culmination of the mitzvah with the words, “Vesomachta bechol hatov asher nosan lecha Hashem Elokecha.” The goal is not merely to acknowledge that Hashem gave us something. The goal is to rejoice in what Hashem gave us.

A person who understands that his life is being guided by Hashem can face even a difficult pekel without being broken. He can continue to make his hishtadlus, continue to daven, continue to learn, continue to serve Hashem, and continue to believe that the situation in which he finds himself is not the end of the story.

He doesn’t have to understand everything in order to have bitachon. He has to know Who is running the world.

This is the lesson we need to take with us from Ki Savo.

We spend so much time wondering what will happen. What will happen to Eretz Yisroel? What will happen to the Torah world? What will happen to our communities? What will happen to our families? What will happen to our finances? And what will happen to us?

There is nothing wrong with making hishtadlus. We have to be responsible, we have to plan, we have to take precautions, and we have to do what we can to improve the situations in which we find ourselves. But once we have done what we can, we have to remember that the future is not in our hands.

That was the great lesson of the Ponovezher Rov. After the destruction of European Jewry, he wasn’t worried about whether Torah would survive. Hashem had promised that it would. His question was only who would have the zechus to be part of its rebuilding.

The same is true in our own lives.

We don’t know how every nisayon we experience will end. We don’t know how every communal challenge will be resolved. We don’t know what twists and turns await us. But we do know that none of it is happening outside the Yad Hashem.

Our job is not to solve the future. Our job is to live properly in the present.

To learn Torah when we can. To daven with kavanah. To do our hishtadlus. To help another Yid. To support Torah. To strengthen our families. To carry our pekelach with dignity and emunah, and never to despair.

The world currently looks very frightening. Our personal circumstances can sometimes appear overwhelming. There may be times when we cannot see a way forward. But we have been here before. Klal Yisroel has stood in places that seemed to offer no future, and from those very places Hashem brought about salvation and growth.

The farmer bringing his bikkurim to Yerushalayim understood that. He did not bring only the fruit. He brought with it the story of the uncertainty, the waiting, the hard work, and the things that could have gone wrong. And then he stood before Hashem and declared that he was thankful for what he had been given.

That is emunah. That is bitachon. And that is the source of genuine simcha.

May we all be written and sealed for a kesivah vachasimah tovah.