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Weak or Week?

Thu, 21 May 2026 9:17:00 AM

Which Jewish holiday is less than a week but is called Weeks?

Shavuot!

Why is tomorrow’s festival called weeks if it’s only a two-day festival (and one day in Israel)? Sukkot and Pesach are week-long festivals. Yet, it is specifically Shavuot that is called (not a Week, but) Weeks!

The common answer is that the holiday is observed seven weeks after Passover, just as the Jews received the Torah seven weeks after the Exodus from Egypt.

But, isn’t it strange the name a holiday for the time before the holiday begins?

The secret lies in the rituals associated with the holiday. Or, rather, the lack of rituals.

Pesach has matzah. Sukkot has the Four Kinds and the Sukkah. Rosh Hashanah has the Shofar.

But, Shavuot has nothing. There are no ritual requirements on this holiday that differentiate it from a standard Shabbat or festival. Yes, we read the Torah and add prayers. We make Kiddush and eat meals. But, there are no unique mandates. (Eating dairy is a custom, but not a fundamental requirement of the festival). This seems like the weakest holiday on the block!

This year, Shavuot will mark the 3338^th anniversary of the giving of the Torah. That was a watershed moment in history. It changed the world forever.

So, why aren’t there any rituals connected with it?

A Chassidic saying might help us understand Shavuot. Chassidim wish each other at Shavuot, “May you (re-)accept the Torah with joy and internalization.”

What does it mean to receive the Torah internally?

One explanation is that studying and observing the Torah with overt symbols and rituals has many advantages. One disadvantage, however, is that external stimulants can mistakenly act as distractions to internal change. When we are forced to look inward for meaning, change is lasting.

Shavuot is the unsung holiday because it is the anniversary of the Giving of the Torah. For us to appreciate that gift and allow it to influence our lives on a daily basis, we need to internalize its messages. It’s not enough to celebrate the highs of Sounding the Shofar or eating matzah. The Torah needs to become our go-to resource and guide for everyday living. Otherwise, my Jewish life and my ordinary life are disconnected.

When we internalize the Torah, the infusion of devotion and motivation imbues all aspects of my life. And, it’s here to stay. In fact, it will outlive today.

With Torah as our inspiration, days can – and will – indeed become weeks.

This Shavuot, let’s gather together and relive the giving of the Torah. Let’s listen to the story of Revelation at Sinai and the Ten Commandments in synagogue. And, let’s let it seep into our psyche.

This two-day holiday can indeed rightfully claim its title as the Festival of Weeks.

Drawing Together

Fri, 15 May 2026 8:26:00 AM

When a street lamp is erected, all those seeking light gather around, for light attracts.

HaYom Yom, 13 Teves

I was reminded of this saying from Hayom Yom this past Sunday, when I traveled to New York to comfort my father and his siblings on the passing of my grandfather.

As we sat together and talked about our father/grandfather, I took a broad look around the room. There were cousins that I had barely ever met. Maybe a couple I had never met before. Aunts and uncles, friends, and strangers. And, they all came together to pay respects and to comfort the bereaved.

There is a lot to say about my grandfather, who stood strong as a Shabbat-observant Jew despite the challenges in the 1940s and 1950s. He raised a large family with 7 children. He loved to travel. He was disciplined to the degree it made us crazy. And, he spent so much time with his family.

But, at that moment, it dawned on me what his greatest contribution really was. He brought people together.

Most importantly, he brought his family together. Seeing my father – the only Chabad Chassid – together with his siblings in that room was a remarkable testament to my grandfather and grandmother. They raised a united family. There was no sibling missing. No fights. Not because we had no differences. No, not at all.

So, what was it?

In this week’s parsha Bamidbar, we read about the way the Jewish people traveled and camped for 40 years in the wilderness. The Torah goes through great detail to describe the locations of each tribe’s encampment.

The Levites formed a ring around the Mishkan (Sanctuary). To the east were Judah (pop. 74,600), Issachar (54,400) and Zebulun (57,400); to the south, Reuben (46,500), Simeon (59,300) and Gad (45,650); to the west, Ephraim (40,500), Manasseh (32,200) and Benjamin (35,400); and to the north, Dan (62,700), Asher (41,500) and Naphtali (53,400). This formation was kept also while traveling.

Why is the location of each tribe important? And, why did they surround the Mishkan – while they camped and while they traveled.

The above quote from HaYom Yom says it all. The center of Jewish life was the Mishkan. It illuminated G-d’s presence to the world. And, it attracted everyone around it. There is no other place to be when the light is abounding.

My grandfather’s light is what continues to draw his family together.

As we prepare for Shavuot, the Festival of the Giving of the Torah, let’s remember that the Torah is our light.

And, we must be the light that brings others together.

The Right Rest

Fri, 8 May 2026 8:36:00 AM

A couple came to me for advice. They were both interested in the relationship and had affection for each other. But, they were misaligned. He liked to connect on weekends, but she was spent by the weekend and wanted private time. She was eager to spend time together on weeknights and he was exhausted and just wanted to collapse on the couch.

Their frustration grew. Not because they didn’t like each other – but because they couldn’t synchronize their schedules and priorities.

In this week’s double parsha Behar-Bechukotai, we learn about the laws of the Sabbatical year, Shemittah. In Israel, every seventh year, all work on the land is prohibited, and the produce becomes free for the taking.

It’s a year-long agricultural Shabbat. Just as we rest every seventh day, we must rest the land every seventh year.

Now, field rotation is actually a popular endeavor among farmers. It allows a field’s soil to rejuvenate. But, no farmer wants to let all his fields lay barren. That’s why they rotate the fields.

Makes sense, doesn’t it?

So, why does the Torah demand that all fields in Israel be fallow for an entire year? If the point is to rejuvenate the land, or to meditate on G-d, why not stagger the process? Wouldn’t that benefit everyone?

Similarly, why do we all need to rest on Shabbat? If the point is to devote a day to holiness, family, and prayer – can’t we take turns?

Imagine you are on an international flight heading home. The plane has an issue and an emergency landing is made. You are over the Pacific Ocean and the nearest airport is in Fiji. You land in a remote, idyllic island. You are informed of the bad news: the plane cannot be repaired here, and it will take 5 days for the airline to send over a new plane. But, the good news is that the airline is taking full responsibility and putting you and your spouse up in a 5-star hotel for free – all expenses paid.

Now, you had planned to do other things this week. Luckily, your boss is okay with your delay and others are taking care of everything on the home front. You are in a world-class resort. Should you be anxious that you are not home, or should you enjoy the amenities and beautiful nature around you?

Obviously, you can’t control everything. But, if you are here, this is the place to enjoy yourself. Being depressed would be silly! Celebrate your good fortune and seize this unbelievable opportunity!

In other words, there’s a time and place for everything. You need to be in sync with your environment.

And, you need to be in sync with time.

We don’t celebrate Shabbat simply because it’s important to rest once a week. We rest because the energy of Shabbat is different than the energy of Tuesday. And, we need to be in sync with that energy.

It might seem more profitable to rotate the fields. In truth, however, the land needs us to be in sync with it. Because it’s the seventh year.

We need to stop working the land on the Sabbatical year. Other years won’t accomplish the same thing.

The Kabbalists teach us that everything exists on three planes of reality – time, space, and soul (or consciousness).

Through Shabbat – we synchronize ourselves to time. Via sacred spaces such as Shul and the Land of Israel – we synchronize ourselves to space.

And, when we invest in our relationships – with G-d and with others – we synchronize ourselves to our very soul, our essence itself.

Whether it’s relationships, time, or space – being aware of the deeper reality is the path to true growth, joy, and accomplishment.

Dis-integration

Fri, 1 May 2026 10:23:00 AM

A friend whose wife is in the ICU for cancer treatment. A divorced friend who just got engaged this week. A friend who made a fortune and then lost it. A friend who I haven’t spoken to in over two decades. A friend who just built a $20 million Chabad center. A friend who I still speak to every week.

These were the people I spent last Shabbos with. It was a special reunion of friends from my yeshiva days.

It was a soul experience. We shared hardships and suffering. We enjoyed each other’s successes and simchas.

But, most of all we connected because we put aside our exterior shells, and focused inward. No one was host, no one was guest. No one was teacher, no one was student. We were all just friends – there for each other.

If you leave the externalities at the doorstep, you don’t lose a part of yourself. Rather, your true inner being is able to emerge, leading to immeasurable growth that is simply impossible to achieve otherwise.

In Chassidus, we call this bittul. Bittul, often translated as self-nullification, requires tremendous introspection and years of working on one’s character. The book of Tanya devotes a robust amount of real estate to help us develop healthy bittul.

I feel like I was able to seamlessly slip into a mode of bittul for almost 48 hours. Some people speak of safe spaces where you can speak your heart. But, the notion of safe spaces presumes that – while you might be protected – there are dangers lurking. In this instance, bittul felt natural and comfortable. There was no worry; no looking over the shoulder.

Farbrengens are designed to help us achieve bittul. So, we might choose to characterize it as one long farbrengen.

Why are farbrengens useful tools to help us achieve bittul, leading to quantum leaps of progress?

In this week’s parsha Emor we read about the three Pilgrimage Festivals of Pesach, Shavuot, and Sukkot.

These festivals are also set at specific seasons of the year. They are known by alternate names, reflecting the agricultural cycles. Pesach is at the beginning of the season, when the produce begins to ripen. Shavuot is at harvest time. Sukkot is the phase of gathering the produce from the fields.

Most of us are not farmers. Yet, the Torah’s message is just as relevant today as it was 3000 years ago.

According to Chassidic teachings, the holidays teach us a message of bittul. G-d compares the Jewish people to the produce of the field. Just as the seed must be planted into the earth and disintegrate in order for the produce to grow, so too our growth can only blossom after we undergo a process of bittul. Our own outer shell – our ego – must be negated in order for true spiritual development to occur.

As I pondered this teaching, I gained a deeper insight into the concept of bittul. Take the seed as an example. If the seed is sitting in storage, no growth occurs. But, when you place it in the earth, the soil helps it destroy its outer husk, in order for its true purpose to emerge and shine. In other words, on its own the seed will struggle to achieve real abnegation and subsequent growth. But, when it’s surrounded by the soil – which destroys its previous identity – its greatest objective rises to the surface.

Trying to instill bittul on my own is difficult. But, when I’m surrounded by friends who care deeply about each other, it becomes instinctive to shed the façade and allow my authentic purpose to shine.

We weren’t trying to integrate into each other’s lives. We were simply disintegrating.

And then, we were one.

Love Your Fellow Self

Fri, 24 Apr 2026 11:14:00 AM

I have the amazing fortune of spending Shabbat at a class reunion with friends from my yeshiva days. I’m reconnecting with buddies from Massachusetts, Israel, Greece, Miami, London, and beyond. It’s so special.

More special than the fond memories and nostalgia is hearing their successes and life stories. It truly feels so uplifting as each one fargins the other and celebrates their families and journeys.

Some are Rabbis. Some are businessmen. Some are professionals.

But, we are all brothers. And the farbrengens betray a true sense of pride we have in each other.

This week’s double parsha of Acharei-Kedoshim includes the famous words, “Love your fellow as yourself.” The Torah doesn’t just tell us to love our fellow. It tells us how much we should love our fellow – just as much as we love ourselves.

But, if we are working on the assumption that we love ourselves more than others, then why doesn’t the Torah start with that. It should state, “Just as much as you love yourself – you should love others.”

A saying common amongst Chassidim of old goes like this: “The piece of bread that I have is yours just as much as it is mine.”

Let’s remember that a piece of bread was a treasure. Sometimes, it was a life-saving treasure.

Rabbi Yosef Y. Schneerson, the Previous Lubavitcher Rebbe, pointed out that the primary message of this saying is the order. They would say “yours” before “mine.” It wasn’t “my” bread that I was sharing with you equally. Rather, it was your piece of bread. Because we are all one, it might also be my piece of bread…

This turns the whole perspective of loving one’s fellow on its head.

In fact, Rabbi Yosef Y. Schneerson wonders about this command to "Love your fellow as yourself." Why only as much as yourself?

His response is that, indeed, Chassidim have always maintained that the meaning of the verse is the exact opposite of how it is commonly understood. Despite all that you know about yourself, the Torah is saying, you should try to love yourself as much as you love your fellow...

About your fellow, you don’t know everything. Therefore, you need to always give him or her the benefit of the doubt. Judge them favorably!

But, about yourself… you know too much… You may very well be inclined to shy away from loving yourself.

So, the Torah is telling us to Love your fellow! And… to love ourselves as much as we love each other.

One Child at a Time

Fri, 17 Apr 2026 11:15:00 AM

In a conversation today, my wife and I mentioned to someone that we have twelve children. During the conversation, this person causally mentioned our combined family. Apparently, it never dawned upon her that these children might all be the offspring of both of us. She may have meant well, but it demonstrates a societal bias.

In fact, none of our children were combined at birth either, as we do not have any twins. Actually, we do have a set of Irish twins, who are currently the same age.

I will remain forever proud of my dear wife, the mother of all my children.

Our society prides itself on understanding the human psyche and investing in what’s best for our youth. Yet, the assumption is that less is more. If we have just one or two children, we can focus on them more, care for them better, and support their dreams more easily.

Oh, and let’s not forget that the best time to have children – according to modern statistics – is well after the biological clock has started ticking. If we wait – the argument goes – until we are financially stable, in an established home, and in a many-years-long relationship, then we will be best-suited to deliver what our children demand from us.

What’s the Jewish take on this?

In this week’s double-parsha Tazria-Metzora, we find some of the laws of childbirth.

One instruction from the Torah is that a mother is obligated to offer a sacrifice at the Holy Temple at a certain point after she gave birth. This applies to each and every child.

One can only imagine that a new mother might have other priorities besides for making a trip to Jerusalem. Why the need for an offering?

Some commentaries point to the ritual impurity effectuated via childbirth as the cause for this ritual. She needs to reenter a state of holiness, and the sacrifice is part of this process.

However, nowhere else – besides for the communal Pilgrimage Festivals – do we find the Torah insisting that an individual rid themselves immediately of their state of impurity. If someone became impure due to contact with the dead, for example, they may choose when to re-engage in sacred acts. Why here does the Torah insist that she rush to the Holy Temple?

Instead of looking at the requirement as a burden, perhaps we can look at it as a privilege. G-d is so excited at the birth of a new child – and so proud of this woman’s new role – that Almighty G-d insists on a personal encounter. The ritual is G-d’s gratitude, vote-of-confidence, and mandate – all wrapped in one.

And, a new offering was required for each child. Because each child is sacred and irreplaceable.

What emerges from the parsha is the Torah’s attitude to children – they are each an infinite blessing. Taken from this approach, no career, neighborhood, college degree, or bank account can ever be adequate for a priceless child.

Instead, the Torah would rather we focus on giving the maximum energy and commitment we can to our children. Our best energy is when our bodies are younger. Our best commitment means prioritizing our lives around our children. Not by dropping them off at soccer. Or, by paying for endless gadgets and goodies. But by listening to them and genuinely considering them a blessing, not a burden.

When we consider each child a blessing, G-d will certainly act in kind – and shower His infinite blessings upon all His priceless children.

Relatively Incomparable

Fri, 10 Apr 2026 8:39:00 AM

Cleaning the house before Pesach is a long and important process. The Torah doesn’t allow us to own any Chametz at all throughout the days of Passover.

When we have finally cleaned the house of Chametz, sold our Chametz, and searched for Chametz, we are ready to settle in to a Chametz-free zone for Pesach.

The kitchen is changed over from Chametz to Kosher-for-Pesach utensils and dishes. Cupboards with Chametz are out of bounds. It’s a full kitchen makeover – but just for about a week.

Then comes the conclusion of Pesach. As soon as Passover is over, we tear it all down and put away the Passover dishes until next year.

It’s amazing how quickly we go from Pesach to Chametz. It took us weeks of preparation to get the house ready for Pesach. But, to undo it all takes just a good few hours of hard work (with a nice team of helpers).

My kids are eager to help – because they know that the sooner the house is back to its previous status they can then enjoy some Chametz. This speeds up the process somewhat, but they still wonder why is turning the kitchen and house back to Chametz so much quicker than getting it ready for Pesach?

The obvious answer is that we are not creating something new. Rather, we are just returning the house to its innate kosher state as it was before. Making it Kosher for Pesach is a big upgrade. Restoring its previous status is a downgrade of sorts. We’re just getting back to basics.

The name of this week’s parsha Shemini means eight. It talks about the 8^th – and final – day of inaugurating the Mishkan. Despite the fact that the inauguration lasted for a week beforehand, the parsha opens with the 8^th day. In other words, last parsha discusses the first seven days of inauguration and this parsha exclusively conveys the happenings of the last day.

Why is the eighth day in a league of its own?

The Chassidic Masters point to the Harp of the Holy Temple, which had seven strings. Yet, the Talmud states that when Moshiach comes, the Harp will have 8 strings. Why the distinction?

Chasidic thought explains that 8 represents a Divine energy above nature. Seven corresponds to the Seven Days of Creation. The number 8 supersedes nature. That’s why in the era of Redemption, the Harp will be 8-stringed. It will be a miraculous time of sorts.

And, that’s why in this parsha eight is all by itself.

However, it’s important to recognize that you can’t get to 8 without 7. So, 8 may be above Nature – but it’s still connected to Nature.

And, this is the secret of Moshiach. The era of Redemption will not destroy or erase the previous world order. Rather, it will give our world an upgrade, building upon the accomplishments of our flawed and fragile world. From the incremental perch of seven, we will catapult to eight.

This is why every mitzvah is so important. The new world order of Moshiach – in which G-d’s energy is revealed and peace and plenty are universal – is dependent upon and created from the current world order. Each mitzvah we do is a building block, contributing to something much grander than what meets the eye. The result is built upon – yet incomparable – to the effort we invest.

As we anticipate Moshiach’s arrival, we would be wise to remember that the keys are in our hands.

Perfecting the Imperfect

Fri, 27 Mar 2026 8:50:00 AM

Israeli diplomat Yehuda Avner once visited with the Lubavitcher Rebbe. The conversation turned to the role of the Rebbe.

The Rebbe explained that each person is a candle, and, “I help them light the candle, to help every man and woman fulfill the purpose for which they were created.”

Toward the end of the meeting, Mr. Avner asked the Rebbe, “Has the Rebbe lit my candle?”

“No,” the Rebbe responded. “I have given you the match. Only you can light your own candle.”

What did the Rebbe mean that, “only you can light your own candle?” Why can’t the Rebbe ignite my candle? Certainly, the Rebbe has inspired thousands of people. Isn’t that considered “lighting my candle?”

This Sunday marks Yud Aleph Nissan, the 124^th birthday of the Rebbe. It is a special day that calls for increased prayer, learning, and acts of loving kindness to others. It has been marked as Education and Sharing Day in the USA for decades. This year, it has once again been designated by the State of Idaho, the City of Boise, and other cities throughout our great state.

The Rebbe’s impact is beyond doubt. It continues decades after his passing. And, on his birthday, it’s appropriate to recommit ourselves to the teachings and ideals that he held so dear.

Here’s a teaching from this week’s parsha Tzav that also sheds light on the upcoming festival of Pesach.

The Torah instructs that, “A constant fire shall burn upon the alter; it shall not be extinguished.”

What is the meaning of this emphasis? If it shall not be extinguished, then it’s obviously constant. Why the repetition? The Talmud explains that the Torah is teaching us that we must offer a fire no matter the status of the person responsible for the fire. Even if the kohen was in a state of ritual impurity (which usually precludes Temple duties), it must still be offered.

The Rebbe observes a life lesson from this instruction. Lighting the fire on the altar is something we must continue to do today, even without the Holy Temple. Our hearts and souls are the altar of G-d.

Sometimes, we might feel disillusioned. We might imagine that we have no fuel in the tank, that our baggage is too heavy to carry. Our flaws weigh us down. We are impure.

And, we are uninspired. We don’t have the energy and drive to light our own fire.

This, according to Chassidic teachings, is what it means to be stuck in Egypt. Egypt isn’t only a place of slavery that existed 3338 years ago. It’s not only a place on the map. Egypt is a place of slavery that exists in our hearts and minds, today. It’s a state of being.

When we imagine that we cannot grow, that our misfortunes and imperfections keep success at bay. Or when we are complacent with our current station in life.

Then, we are in Egypt. We are stuck in the clutches of Pharaoh. Denied the path to our own destiny and purpose.

So, how do we free ourselves from our internal Egypt?

Chassidim were wont to say, "Morgen vet zein gar andersh," Yiddish for, "tomorrow will be very different." It was a nightly ritual, designed to inspire one to awaken tomorrow with renewed energy.

But, why do they only talk about tomorrow? What about the next day? What about the whole week ahead? The month? The year? My entire life? Don’t I want to commit to a better life for as long as I live?

I think Chassidim were on to something. They recognized that we humans are fallible beings. They were honest with themselves. Fixing my whole life?! That’s a daunting task. I’m flawed and riddled with complexities. There are too many imperfections to fix all of them. Life ahead is very long, arduous, and demanding. Who knows what will be in twenty years?!

But, I can control tomorrow. That I can fix.

And, that is the secret to leaving Egypt.

Stop trying to fix the whole world. Stop trying to fix your entire life.

Just fix tomorrow.

And, you will be free from Egypt.

The Exodus from Egypt did not bring the Jews – in one journey – to the Promised Land. They still had many journeys and battles – spiritual and physical – before they arrived in the Holy Land. They remained flawed. But, they were free. Because they took one step forward. They were perfectly imperfect.

To be free means to acknowledge my imperfection and impurity – and to still plow ahead with determination and vigor.

We must light our own fire. But, the Rebbe’s unapologetic and contagiously positive faith in every human being, can help us ignite our souls.

Ah, the taste of freedom.

Don’t Skip the Boring Stuff

Fri, 20 Mar 2026 7:13:00 AM

What’s the most Jewish food eaten on Pesach?

Matzah Balls? Brisket?

What’s the most important food on Rosh Hashanah?

Apple dipped in honey? Round Challah?

If you have a peek at the Book of Vayikra, which we start reading today, you might be fooled into skipping through it. The first two books of the Torah have lots of fun history and life lessons. But, now we will spend a couple of months navigating some very technical laws about the Temple, ritual purity, priestly rites, and various types of sacrifices. Oh, and sexual morality gets thrown in as well.

The parsha, as well as the book itself, focuses primarily on the laws of sacrifices. “Boring, technical, and ancient,” might be what you are thinking.

But, actually, if we think of the way Hashem envisioned Pesach and Rosh Hashana, it’s far different than our current imagination. In the Torah, Hashem instructs us to offer a lamb as a sacrifice on Passover. G-d tells us to offer sacrifices for each holiday. No matzah ball soup, no Challah, no Gefilte fish, no Falafel. Just barbecue lamb, goat, and bulls. And flat flour pancakes with olive oil. And, turtledoves. On the altar.

The Torah dedicates an entire book to these laws. It must be important. Today.

So, what is the Torah’s message embedded in the laws of sacrifices?

There are certainly many mystical and spiritual lessons we can learn from sacrifices. But, there is also a very simple – and relevant – message for each of us today.

The Torah was not given to angels in Heaven. It was given to fallible human beings who tend to focus on earthly endeavors. It would be very tempting to assume that our goal should be to distance ourselves from bodily pursuits – such as eating, intimacy, and attire. After all, we want to connect with a spiritual Creator.

“No!” says the Torah. G-d wants your food, intimacy, and clothing! The goal is not to abandon the material. Rather, the purpose of Creation and Existence is to infuse the physical with purpose and holiness.

The sacrifices and “technical” laws of the Book of Vayikra are G-d’s nod to our animalistic drive. G-d is not conceding that we remain animalistic. Rather G-d is proclaiming: “I believe in you! You have beastly and mundane desires. But, you can elevate them to meaningful and intentional acts of sanctity.”

Instead of skipping the mechanical details of Vayikra, let’s celebrate the G-d that is in the details.

E Pluribus Unum

Fri, 13 Mar 2026 7:35:00 AM

America is celebrating it’s 250^th year.

The motto E Pluribus Unum, translated as, “Out of many, one,” is found on the Great Seal of the United States as well as on some US coins. Its origins date back to 1776 when the committee met to develop a seal. Originally, the meaning was obvious: out of many states (or colonies) emerge a single nation.

Nowadays, it has also come to represent the diverse nature of the American people. Out of many races, religions and ethnicities – one nation has emerged.

The beauty of America is not that Idaho and New York are identical. It’s that they are unique – yet still come together to form one country. Each state is critical. Yet each state’s distinctiveness does not destroy the singular identity of the United States of America.

I have experienced this quality many times during my travels. When in a foreign country, I am perceived as an American. My colleague may be from California – but we are simply Americans to others. I recall meeting up with an American backpacker in the hinterlands of Ethiopia. Honestly, there was little we could find in common, but somehow, we were a team.

To the locals, the entire America was represented in the odd couple that we were. A Chassidic rabbi and a black Rastafarian became TEAM USA.

When the Jews finished building the Mishkan, Moshe blessed them that the Divine presence should dwell in their handiwork. This week’s double parsha Vayakhel-Pekudei – and the entire book of Shemot (Exodus) – ends off with the fulfillment of that blessing. G-d indeed accepts the home that the nation of Israel has built, as His own.

Our Sages relate that the reason G-d wishes to dwell in the Mishkan was not only because of the wood, gold and linen from which it was constructed. True, G-d desires to dwell within the physical. That’s the ultimate purpose of Creation – to transform the physical into holiness. But, what was special about the Mishkan? The key ‘motivation’ for G-d was the fact that all Jews participated in forming the Mishkan. It was indeed the Mishkan of the entire Jewish people. But it was also the Mishkan of each and every Jew. It was yours as much as it was mine.

So long as we give it our very best, we deserve full ownership of the good deeds that we perform. Even if it takes a village to build it, it has your name written all over it.

It is from the many, but it is one – truly yours.

Sandwiched in Love

Fri, 6 Mar 2026 11:36:00 AM

No, there aren’t any secret tunnels from our Chabad House to Tehran. And, while there is a long list of finalists for Antisemite of the Week, Tucker Carlson certainly sits at the top.

I won’t give screen time to his antics. But, his remarks give me cause for introspection. The Baal Shem Tov taught that everything we see or hear must be a lesson in our own life and relationship with G-d.

If the word spreading on social media is that Jews are unique and that we have grand aspirations, then let’s analyze that ourselves. Not from a geopolitical perspective – which is driven by bigotry and conspiracies. Rather, from a point of reflection, spirituality, and mission.

Let’s look at this week’s parsha Ki Tisa for a clue.

The most famous story in this parsha is one of the most tragic failures in Jewish history. Shortly after receiving the Torah, the Jewish people worship the Golden Calf. Amazingly, Hashem forgives the Jews after they repent and Moshe prays for them. Afterwards, they are given a second chance and receive the Second Tablets.

However, that is not the opening scene of the parsha. The parsha opens with the instruction to count the Jewish people and directives for making the water basin, anointing oil, and incense for the Mishkan (Sanctuary).

If the parsha is meant to be thematic, then we should have discussed the Mishkan items in the last two parshiyot – Teruma and Tetzaveh – which are dedicated to the Mishkan and priestly garments. Why does the Torah start with counting the Jews, some “leftover” guidelines about the Mishkan and only afterwards launch into the critical story of the Golden Calf?

Like a loving parent, Hashem seeks to exclusively see the good in the Jewish people. Yes, they sinned terribly. And, G-d threatened to wipe out the entire nation. But, ultimately, His love toward His people is boundless. He forgave them and started all over.

But, that’s not it.

When it came time to record this grave error, G-d made sure to bury the story between more favorable headlines. Yes, the primary feature of the parsha is the failure of the Jews. But, that’s not what G-d chooses to focus on. Hashem loves us so deeply that even in the story of our failure, he speaks glowingly of counting His precious people and the glorified gift of the Second Tablets, which were superior to the first ones.

G-d sandwiches us with love from all sides. It’s not because He is oblivious to our shortcomings. Rather, it’s because He recognizes that at our core, we have a holy mission to which we remain loyal.

This love affair is what pushes Jews to the apex of history and society. It’s what drives our drive.

And, it’s what makes our mission central to the world’s mission. It’s why the happenings and destiny of this little people have grand effects throughout the world.

And, it’s why current events remind me that we indeed have deep aspirations to influence the world. To make it a more holy place. To build up the edifice of G-d throughout the world. Not by military might. But, by good deeds and a shining example.

We don’t need Antisemites like Carlson. But, thanks for reminding me that we do have a unique message and deep aspirations.

May Almighty G-d bring Moshiach. Then we will have world peace. And, then, G-d’ holy abode will be a home for all nations.

This Is Not Who I Am

Fri, 27 Feb 2026 7:20:00 AM

As my kids try on their Purim costumes, they kvell at the idea that getting dressed up is actually a Jewish thing. In our society, many people get decked out in costumes, say in October for example. But, that is a shallow act devoid of meaning. It celebrates death – not life.

What’s the meaning of costumes on Purim?

First, we need to understand the meaning of clothing altogether. Yes, you need clothing for warmth and modesty. But, is there meaning to different types of clothing – besides from their fashion statement?

In Judaism, we have always relied on tactile reminders. In contrast to modern gizmos of efficiency, Jewish aides don’t simply serve as tools. Rather, they are the keys to our souls.

Wearing tefillin and lighting Shabbat candles are physical rituals; palpable cues that we can see, feel and touch. But, their role is not simply to remind us about our history and tradition.

The taste of bitter herbs on Passover can transport us back to a time of harsh slavery. The four cups of wine may stimulate our mood of liberation.

However, there is more to these multisensory media than reminding us of our past, duties, or values.

In this week’s parsha, Tetzaveh, the Torah spends a great deal of time and space teaching about the specific clothing that the kohanim (priests) wore in the Beit HaMikdash (Holy Temple). This was, of course, their ritual uniform. It only makes sense that in a space as sacred and a task as important as serving in the Bait HaMikdash, a dress code should be in place.

The mystics, however, are bothered by the seemingly endless verses describing each piece of clothing. Wouldn’t it suffice to state that they must be in uniform while officiating? Why all the detail? And why these specific outfits?

Rather, the mystics argue, the Torah is not simply emphasizing decorum and efficiency. Each vestment serves as a conduit to a unique flow of Divine energy. Every garment has physical characteristics – one is soft and another is rigid; one is red and another blue. These characteristics correspond to their spiritual characteristics.

You see, we have it backwards when we search for the spiritual significance of something physical. We look at a tallit, for example, and wonder what the meaning behind this four-cornered, fringed garment might be. But, in reality, it works the other way around. A sacred, specific energy exists in the spiritual dimension. In its pure form, it is lacking any physical configuration. But, as it is converted to physical reality, it requires shape, color, texture, etc.

We look at a candle and ponder the symbolism.

In Heaven, they look at the soul and wonder what physical vehicle can express something so precious and sublime. Ah, a candle will have to suffice.

Taken from this perspective, the kohanim were not wearing garments merely to conform to a standard. Quite the contrary, their garments were part of their Divine worship. It was critical because each garment was, in essence, drawing a spiritual energy into the physical realm.

For example, the sash was worn at the waist. The Chassidic Masters explain its significance as separating the base, lower elements of the body from the emotions and intellect – one’s higher self. But it isn’t solely a prop to remind and assist. Rather, the mystical separation between the lower and higher realms is manifest in the embodiment of the sash. That heavenly dimension is captured through the physical form and dimension of the sash. That’s why it happens to be such a useful reminder.

And the same holds true for all mitzvot in the Torah. Matzah isn’t merely an aide-mémoire of the Exodus due to its texture and taste. Rather, the spirit of the Exodus and true freedom joins us at our Pesach Seder in the form of matzah.

Wearing Tefillin is not simply a visceral reminder of G-d’s presence. It’s a conduit for the sacred energies that our souls need and crave.

And so, we return to Purim. Clothing typically serves to reveal our identity, mood, or preference. I choose to wear one outfit to work, another to run the marathon, and another to weather the blizzard.

Those choices of attire are designed to comport – and reveal – my mood or activity. For Jews, we dress Jewishly as well – revealing our spiritual endeavors and identity.

Yet, on Purim we choose to wear something that hides our identity. The simple reason for this is that through costumes we remind ourselves that G-d was hiding behind the scenes – yet clearly and intimately involved – throughout the Purim story.

The Chassidic Masters take it a step further. By dressing up, we are demonstrating that the true essence of our being is not the decorum of business. Nor is it the laissez-faire attitude of the beach. Or the hard grit of the basketball court.

Nothing I wear can capture my truest quintessence. The core of my being is pure and infinite. It is beyond any dress code. The only way to capture that energy is by dressing up as something I am not. This is not who I am. I cannot be defined by any clothing.

The joy of Purim is designed to be boundless – ad d’lo yada. Boundless energy cannot be captured in any garment.

My Purim costume may not be as sacred as the garments of the Kohanim. But, it does point to an energy that even their holy clothing is incapable of capturing.

L’Chaim!

Taking Off on Their Own

Fri, 20 Feb 2026 7:01:00 AM

As my daughter gets better at skiing, she is able to do more and more on her own. However, she still sometimes needs me to give her a boost to get her started on tough terrain.

Eventually, she will be like the rest of them, zooming off and leaving Tatty and Mommy in the distance…

I smile as I see my children become independent – and eventually outpace me.

When G-d instructs the Jewish people to build Him a Sanctuary He says, “Speak to the children of Israel, and have them take for Me a donation; from every person whose heart inspires him to generosity, you shall take My donation.”

This week’s parsha, Teruma, describes the many details of the Mishkan. The Jewish people were very generous and offered more than what was necessary for this Divine abode. There was a finite amount of wood, gold, silver and other materials necessary to construct the Mishkan. So why did G-d leave it open-ended? Why didn’t He say, “Donate 500 pounds of gold,” or something similar?

And, why does the Torah repeat itself, first demanding all to donate and then specifying that a collection be made “every person whose heart inspires him to generosity?”

The Chassidic Masters offer a different perspective on the Mishkan instruction. G-d isn’t only demanding that the Jewish people build a Mishkan in the wilderness. He is asking each of us to become a Sanctuary for G-d. By doing more mitzvot and becoming more holy, we create a Sanctuary for G-d, a miniature Mishkan.

Inner change and behavioral improvement require inspiration. Sometimes that inspiration is there and sometimes it seems absent. And, then there are times that it comes out of nowhere. Inexplicably, we suddenly feel motivated. Where does this burst of stimulus come from?

The mystics describe this as it’aruta di’l’ayla – and arousal from Above. It’s G-d reaching out. Essentially, it’s the spiritual equivalent of a freebie. G-d expects us to use this empowerment and not squander it.

But capitalizing on His momentum isn’t enough. Hashem also desires our own effort, pulling ourselves up from our own bootstraps. In fact, this is where He really wants to dwell – in the home that we build for Him on our own accord.

G-d gives us a boost, but then takes a step back. He is like the mother who holds her young daughter’s hand and eventually lets go.

Now we can understand the double language. G-d first tells the Jewish people, ‘I will empower you to donate.’ After all, being asked by G-d Himself for a specific contribution is motivation enough!

But, then G-d leaves it up to us: “from every person whose heart inspires him to generosity, you shall take My donation.”

G-d gets us started, but we need to find our own inspiration to take it to the next level!

Life on Loan

Fri, 13 Feb 2026 7:19:00 AM

Say I am in need of some eggs for the meal I am in the midst of preparing. No time to run to the supermarket – it’s nearly dinner. But the recipe calls for eggs and the guests are coming soon.

So I run to the neighbor and borrow a dozen eggs. The next day I’ll go to the supermarket, purchase a dozen eggs and drop them at my neighbor’s home - and everyone is happy.

But let’s say my car broke down and I need to get somewhere urgently. Once again my neighbor comes to the rescue. She happily offers me her brand new Tesla so I can get to my appointment on time.

What do you think her reaction would be if I showed up a few hours later with a 1999 Chevrolet instead of her Tesla? What if I showed up with a similar Tesla, but not hers?

When we talk about lending and borrowing, the Torah classifies this undertaking in two distinct categories.

One is הלוואה (halva’ah), which is when a person loans someone else money or other replaceable items, expecting the value therein to be repaid according to the terms of the agreement. Essentially, the loaner is a creditor and the borrower is a debtor. The loaner expects the actual funds or items to be spent or utilized, never to be returned. So long as their equal is repaid, the creditor is happy.

The other is שאלה (she’elah), referring to the borrowing of a particular item. In such an instance, the loaner expects the actual item to be returned – and in the same condition as when it was dispensed.

In the commandment to offer loans to the needy, the Torah stipulates in this week’s parsha Mishpatim, that lenders may not charge interest. So long as you get the funds back, you cannot have any complaints against the borrower.

Our Sages teach that G-d is asking us to follow in His footsteps. He offers us everything we have on loan and does not charge interest. We must follow suit and treat others the way He treats us.

However, it’s important to note that the Torah compares G-d’s behavior toward mankind as a creditor/debtor loan and not as an item being borrowed for its use. Why is G-d’s relationship to humanity personified by the creditor (albeit a kind one that doesn’t charge interest) and not by the friendly neighbor offering use of his screwdriver?

As mentioned, a fundamental difference between these two relationships is whether the actual item must be returned. When it is not necessary for the actual item to be returned (i.e. creditor/debtor relationship) a bigger favor has actually occurred. Not only are you free to use the item/funds; you are free to do with them as you please. So long as you replace them. This means you are given full ownership and authority over them to put your unique imprint upon them. If it’s a dozen eggs – you can choose to fry them, boil them or use them for decorations.

In our relationship with the Almighty, we are given many loans. G-d gives us talents, material items, family, friends and community – all entrusted to our own decision-making. We are free to put our personal imprint upon them, so long as we stay within the confines of His contract.

G-d does not expect us to return everything to Him exactly as we received them. He expects us to leave our mark. Not only does He allow us to alter these items, He expects us to. He desires our unique contribution to His world. That’s why He puts them in our custody.

There are certainly times when we feel like we have let Him down. That’s usually when we feel we have nothing to offer Him. We see ourselves as unworthy of connecting with Him. Simply put, after we slip up, we don’t feel like He is interested in our mitzvahs. G-d doesn’t want our tainted goods, we tell ourselves.

The Torah’s message is clear: G-d gives us full ownership of our lives – knowing that we may, at times, falter – and still desires the return of His loan. We may not be perfect. But it is precisely our imperfect offerings that He knowingly signed up for.

In our relationships with others we face the same dilemma. ‘I know I cannot cook as well as she does.’ ‘I know I cannot speak as eloquently as he does.’ I’d better just sit it out rather than fall short.

Wrong.

In fact, I faced this challenge last week. As Rebbetzin Esther was in New York attending the International Conference of Shluchos (Chabad Lubavitch Women Emissaries), I was doing double duty as a parent. In addition to playing my constant role as father, Esther also lent me her role of mother.

I know I will never be as good a mother to my children as Esther is. It’s simply not possible. Only women can be true mothers.

But that does not mean I can’t step up to the plate and be the best ‘mother’ that a guy can be.

You see, Esther did not gift me the role of motherhood (my children are eternally grateful for this!). Nor did she simply hand it to me to be returned intact (she’s far brighter than that).

She recognizes that things won’t be the same when she returns (and how!). But so long as I follow instructions and do my best – she will gladly accept the motherhood package I reimburse to her.

I may not be perfect. But my wife – and certainly my Creator – will eagerly accept the repayment of her loan that has my name written all over it.

Deals Made Long Ago

Fri, 6 Feb 2026 7:22:00 AM

Rebbetzin Esther is in New York with thousands of her colleagues. They are enriching themselves at the International Kinus HaShluchos (which you can watch on Sunday). Meanwhile, I’m enriching my relationship with my kids. It’s a win-win.

Esther gets to meet colleagues from all over the world, drawing inspiration from their successes and challenges. She scoops up their ideas and inspiration, enthused to come back to Boise, energized and excited.

The kinus reminds me of the great pioneers; the men and women who traveled to the other side of the world – before Chabad was a household name. This week Chabad marked the passing of Rebbetzin Rochel Pinson, the Shlucha to Tunisia. She was 102 years old. Despite upheaval, danger and a dwindling Jewish community – she stayed at her post throughout 8 decades!

What drives a woman – who was born in the Soviet Union and whose father was murdered by the Stalinist regime for spreading Yiddishkeit – to spend her entire adult life in Tunis, apart from fellow Chabadniks? Tunisia had over 100,000 Jews 80 years ago. Today that population has declined by about 90%. Even after the passing of her late husband, Rabbi Nisson Pinson in 2007, Rebbetzin Pinson remained devoted to her Shlichus!

In this week’s parsha Yitro, the Jewish people receive the Torah. This is a watershed event in world history.

On Day Six of Creation, the Torah says the famous words recited at Kiddush Friday night – Yom HaShishi, meaning the sixth day (unlike all other days of creation, where it says simply day one, day two, etc.). The Talmud teaches, that the definite article “the” alludes to a well-known sixth day, meaning the sixth day of Sivan, the date the Torah would be given over two thousand years later. The entire work of Creation was suspended for 26 generations until the Torah was given.

G-d essentially made a condition with all of Creation. If the Jews accept the Torah, the world will exist. If not, there is no purpose for Creation.

It was a contract with Heaven and Earth. If you want to exist, the Jews must accept the Torah.

And, this contract is eternal. Because it’s the very reason G-d created the world in the first place.

The Rebbe sent Shluchim all over the world. They stay in their stations until over 100 years old – because they signed up for a lifelong contract, a contract to bring the world to its ultimate purpose. They made a deal long ago, and it’s just as valid today.

In Judaism, realizing this purpose has a fancy word called Moshiach – the period when the world achieves its entire objective. Until then, we still have work to do.

Now, you might have an inkling why Chabad is so obsessed with bringing Moshiach.

Hats off to the Shluchos – who juggle family and community. And, who will be at the front lines bringing Moshiach!