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A Mature Focus

Fri, 28 Aug 2026 8:01:00 AM

At the end of this week’s parsha Ki Tavo, Moshe – nearing the end of his life – reprimands the Jewish nation:

"You have seen all that the Lord did before your very eyes in the land of Egypt, to Pharaoh, to all his servants, and to all his land; the great trials which your very eyes beheld and those great signs and wonders. Yet until this day, the Lord has not given you a heart to know, eyes to see and ears to hear.”

If Moshe attests to the fact that forty years prior the Jews saw the miracles in Egypt and the numerous wonders of G-d, why is he stating that they are incapable of knowing, seeing and hearing?

Let me put this in other words: If you were present when, for example, the Twin Towers were attacked on 9/11, would you have a more impacting experience on that day or forty years later?

Why would Moshe declare that their first-hand experience at the time is inferior to their recollection almost four decades later?

The story is told about a young man, a budding Talmudic genius, who heard that great and wondrous things were being revealed by the Maggid of Mezritch. Chassidim were not very popular in those days and were even suspected of heresy by the Jewish establishment; but this young man found what his soul thirsted for, and became a disciple of the Maggid.

When he returned home after a year, he was greeted by his irate father-in-law. “What have you been doing for the last year? What have you accomplished wasting your time with those deviant people?”

“I learned that G‑d creates the world,” answered the young man.

“That’s what you learned?!” yelled his father-in-law. Why, even our housekeeper knows that, and she never studied a page of Talmud in her life . . . Zelda! Come here!”

The housekeeper appeared from the next room, drying her hands.

“Tell us, please, Zelda,” he was trying to be as calm as possible, "who created the world?"

“Why . . . the Almighty, sir!”

“You see!” he turned to his son-in-law and shouted with rage, “Even she says so!”

“She says it,” said the Chassid. “But I know it.”

This coming week is also Chai Elul, the 18^th day of Elul. It marks the double-birthday of both Rabbi Israel Ball Shemtov and Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, founders of Chassidism and Chabad Chassidism, respectively.

The contribution of Chassidism is not primarily the additional customs, rituals or attire. Rather it is the ability and opportunity to explore beneath the surface. But not just anywhere beneath the surface. Chassidic thought penetrates the soul because it is the soul. It’s the mechanism – through tremendous toil – to establish contact with the real me. Only by delving deeper into my own soul, peeling away layer after layer, can I come face to face with my own essence. Then, lasting change can prevail.

Yes, I may have been impacted for the moment at a deeper level on 9/11. But for those events to become part of me I will need to probe deeper. An external event can be embedded in my soul via thoughtful and heartfelt exploration. Through concentrated effort and immeasurable investment, I can indeed internalize the horrific tragedies – and superb accomplishments – of the past.

The month of Elul is a month of reflection. The 18^th of Elul is the most dynamic day of Elul, breathing life into this period of introspection.

Let us capture the moment, and immerse ourselves in a more profound understanding of our Torah. Like our ancestors, with time, we can engage in a more meaningful relationship with our Creator and His Torah.

Celestial Terra

Fri, 21 Aug 2026 7:03:00 AM

A Jewish woman passed away in rural Arizona. Her body was only found several days after passing.

A relative in Colorado contacted me in Boise.

I reached out to another relative in Idaho.

I found out that the body was scheduled for cremation in a matter of hours. This is a huge no-no in Judaism.

Unfortunately, the deceased had no funds and no local family members at all.

With the clock ticking, I immediately reached out to relatives to stop the cremation, or at least pause it. I was told there are no funds for burial. “Put aside money,” I declared. “We will figure that out. For now, we need to stop the funeral home from cremating the body and then we can figure out the rest.”

Reluctantly, the relatives agreed.

Now, there was a mountain of paperwork and red tape.

I contacted the nearest Chabad Rabbi in Arizona. He put me in touch with an organization in Phoenix that could help.

Over the next 5 days, despite me being on the road, we worked tirelessly to overcome obstacles, release the body, buy a plot, make funeral arrangements, and hold a funeral.

To make a long story short-

The cremation was stopped, the body was transferred to California, a tahara was performed, a friend of mine who is Chabad Rabbi in California officiated the funeral, and the deceased was brought to Jewish burial in a dignified manner. In fact, she was buried near her own parents.

How and why did this all happen?

Technically, this happened because a Chabad Rabbi heard that a Jewish woman was about to be cremated. Because Rabbis and community leaders in five different cities moved heaven and earth. And, because Jews who never met this lady mobilized to raise over $10,000 to give her the dignity she deserved. (There are still some uncovered costs – you can donate to this holy cause here - select Chabad’s Funeral Fund).

But really, it happened because a Jewish soul is eternal. It is a piece of Infinity.

We might wonder what is the value of a grave. Was it really worth all the effort and expense? After all, the body will decompose anyway.

Some may argue that she didn’t really live much of a Jewish life anyway. She wouldn’t have cared. She didn’t have the funds. Why should this be a burden on the community?

In this week’s parsha Ki Teitzei, we read about the importance of Jewish burial and how quickly it should be done. The Torah states, “But you shall not leave his body on the pole overnight. Rather, you shall bury him on that [same] day, for a hanging [human corpse] is a blasphemy of G-d, and you shall not defile your land, which the L-rd, your G-d, is giving you as an inheritance.”

The Torah is speaking of a person who was executed by the Court. Even such a person, G-d insists, should be given the honor of proper and immediate burial.

The Zohar explains that each soul is part of a cosmic celestial body of souls. Since all souls are a piece of G-d, it follows that G-d’s “Celestial Body” is comprised of all souls. The Zohar adds that as long as the body is not buried, the soul suffers and the spirit of defilement is there to dwell upon that body and defile it.

Until a person is buried, the soul is struggling in no-man’s land – unable to reach its spiritual and eternal resting place.

Therefore, even the criminal’s soul is a critical component of G-d. Without the soul reaching its place of rest, G-d is suffering, as it were.

I may not have ever met this lady. She may not have cared much for her Jewish roots. But, she is a part of my soul, of every Jew’s soul, and of G-d’s soul.

I feel humbled and grateful that we were able to give her the dignity that she, we, and G-d deserve.

Humble Self Affirmation

Fri, 14 Aug 2026 9:01:00 AM

A great rabbi was once called upon to settle a dispute between two of his followers. The first man poured out his complaints to the rabbi, and when he finished, the rabbi said, “You’re right.” Then it was the second one’s turn. When he finished, the rabbi said, “You’re also right.” The rabbi’s wife, who had been listening to the conversation, said incredulously to her husband, “What do you mean, ‘You’re also right’? They can’t both be right!” The rabbi thought for a few moments, and then replied, “You know, my dear, you’re also right.”

Sometimes, my children come with similar challenges. One says, “Can I be first?” I respond, “Sure.” Another then says, “How about me? Can I go before anyone else?” “Absolutely,” I reply. Now, I’m not going to split the baby in half, but – as a parent – I believe saying yes (and, at times, no) to both is important. (Sometimes the answer is yes to one and no to another). It’s going to be my duty to figure out how they can both be first.

This helps us answer the following question: Surrender of self or self-assertion?

Which of these are the proper pathway? Does G-d want me to completely submit to His authority? Or does He wish that I express myself and allow my talents and personality to shine?

Powerful arguments can be made for both positions. One the one hand, if I don’t abnegate my own ego and leave my spiritual journey to what feels best and most aptly expresses myself, I may not be serving my Creator. I may be serving my own ego.

Conversely, if I fail to find my personal calling – my unique contribution – I may flounder. Lacking a personal identity, my commitment might be shallow and unenthused. Is that really what G-d wants?

When commanding us not to destroy fruit trees in this week’s parsha Shoftim, the Torah compares a tree to a person. “For a man is the tree of the field.” There are various interpretations into this statement. The Talmud explains why a person is compared specifically to a fruit tree. Why not any tree?

The Talmud clarifies that the comparison is particularly to a Torah scholar. One who studies Torah is analogous to a fruit tree. Equating a student of Torah – versus one who engages in mitzvot, good deeds – to a fruit tree, sheds some light on the issue.

The mitzvot are G-d’s commands to humanity. To live up to His expectations requires sacrifice. We must put aside our personal interests to fulfill His demands. I may want to keep 100% of my income. But, as a Jew, I must surrender my desire and contribute at least 10% to charity.

Torah study, by contrast, is G-d’s wisdom. It might take discipline to study, but ultimately, the purpose of study is that my mind should perceive Divine wisdom. My personal take is important here. I may need to surrender my will in order to study Torah, but if I entirely check my sense of self at the door, I won’t grasp G-d’s knowledge.

Mitzvah observance requires – primarily – submission of self. Torah study, on the other hand, is mainly about my understanding and perspective.

Both are critical in our relationship with the Almighty. Sometimes, the answer really is yes and yes.

Grains and vegetables primarily provide sustenance. Fruits are also tasty and a source of pleasure.

By comparing Torah study to fruit trees, we are reminded that – more so than our other religious observances – Torah study isn’t only a duty. It’s a passion.

Domino Effect

Fri, 7 Aug 2026 8:27:00 AM

Did you know that the capture of Constantinople in 1453 led to the discovery of America?

When the Ottoman Empire conquered Constantinople, they blocked traditional land trade routes between Europe and Asia. This blockade forced European nations to look for new sea paths to reach Asian spices and goods. These desperate searches for alternative water routes eventually led Christopher Columbus to sail west in 1492, landing in the Americas.

In this week’s parsha, Re’eh, the Jews are told to destroy and uproot all idolatry upon settling in the land of Israel. The Torah states:

And you shall tear down their altars, smash their monuments, burn their asherim with fire, cut down the graven images of their gods, and destroy their name from that place. You shall not do so to the Lord, your G-d.

Why does the Torah need to warn us not to perform similar acts to our own G-d?

According to Rabbi Ishmael a Jew would never entertain tearing down the altars of G‑d. Rather, the meaning of “You shall not do so” is that you should not do like the deeds and behavior of the nations, since your sins would cause the Sanctuary of your fathers to be destroyed.

Indeed, we are taught that it is only do to our own iniquities that G-d allowed the Temple to be destroyed.

Each act has a cosmic effect. A piece of litter might end up harming someone – impacting all the people in her life. A random act of kindness might be paid forward a hundred times over.

Spiritually, this is even more true. The reaction to positive deeds reaches the furthest corners of existence and penetrates the highest heavens. A negative act impedes the entire cosmos and burdens G-d Himself, as it were, with its darkness.

This Shabbat blesses the month of Elul, which begins next week. In Elul we begin the annual process of stocktaking. The Jewish month of Elul is the last in the calendar year. It is also the month of preparation for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. It’s a time to look back at the past year and take stock of our spiritual achievements and shortcomings, resolving to improve in the coming year.

One of the challenges I often face in this spiritual process, is that I am too general in my self-review. After all, I reason, if I’ve had a year in which the mitzvot in my life surpass the wrongdoings, I’m a good guy and am on the correct path.

But, that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Stocktaking is not only about judging my own character. It’s about reviewing each and every act and activity. Granted, I may not remember all of them. But, I have a duty to assess each act I can recall – on its own – to analyze its impact on me and the world around me.

Sometimes I don’t see an obvious, direct consequence of my actions.

We should always remember that some acts influence indirectly more than directly.

Elul is a time to review each domino.

You and You

Fri, 31 Jul 2026 7:27:00 AM

I often marvel at how the most ancient of languages is so simple, yet so complex. Our English language does not distinguish between the singular and plural of “you.” But in Hebrew, as in other languages, the distinction lies large. In fact, one of the greatest challenges facing English speakers who are trying to learn Hebrew is adjusting to the male/female and singular/plural aspects.

Addressing “you” versus “all of you,” can mean a world of difference.

One such instance is in this week’s parsha, Eikev. Last week’s parsha Va’etchanan contained the first paragraph of the Shema and the second paragraph of Shema appears in this week’s parsha.

Interestingly, the first paragraph of Shema is written in singular form, addressing “you” the individual. The Torah tells us: You shall love the L-rd your G‑d with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might.

The second paragraph, however, is addressed to “you” in plural: And it will be, if you will diligently obey My commandments which I enjoin upon you this day, to love the L-rd your G‑d and to serve Him with all your heart and with all your soul.

Why the difference? Is G-d speaking to the individual or the community?

The Chassidic Masters point to two distinct levels of our relationship with G-d.

At the quintessence, we are one with G-d. After all, the core of who we are is a piece of Divine energy. It is this essential character that is addressed in the first paragraph of Shema. This is why the first paragraph speaks of our intense love of the Almighty. And for this reason, the first paragraph declares the oneness of G-d and our deep attachment to that oneness, to the extent of self-sacrifice. This element of the soul is indicated in the singular form – the soul is singularly united with it source.

Conversely, the second paragraph, deals with reward and punishment. It addresses a more fragile and remote level of the soul – a soul in which the world’s challenges are real and relevant. This is the soul completely engaged in the physical, in the reality of the human psyche with its intellect and emotion. At this level, the soul is capable of great things, but it must work through the gritty struggles of its persona.

Therefore, the plural “you” is utilized, demonstrating the fractured and multifarious nature and identity of the lower level of the soul.

The first level is pristine and “untouchable.” Yet, the Torah still deems it necessary to address the lower level of the soul – a level in which reward and punishment are suddenly appropriate. This indicates that, the lofty level of the soul’s essence is insufficient. To truly unite with G-d, we must involve every facet of our identity, even – and especially – that which seems most detached.

After all, the purpose of creation is not simply to unite the soul with G-d. Rather, it is to unite the body and the material world we inhabit with its Creator. In this sense, the second paragraph speaks more directly to the mandate and mission that we are all striving toward. Together, we can certainly succeed.

Doubly Good

Fri, 24 Jul 2026 8:02:00 AM

A Jew in Soviet Russia is sent to Siberia for practicing his faith.

He receives a letter from his wife, saying that the ox has died and there is no way to plow the field to plant the potatoes. He sends a letter back to her, warning her not to go near the field, let alone plow it, because that’s where all the guns and ammunition are hidden.

The next day, a truck full of soldiers shows up at her home and they begin digging desperately, turning over the entire field. After a day of digging – and finding nothing, they leave. She writes to her husband in Siberia to update him.

He replies this time, “Now, you can plant the potatoes!”

Welcome to Soviet censorship and a smart Jew.

The Talmud tells a story of Rabbi Akiva and a group of Sages walking toward Jerusalem in the period immediately after the destruction of the Second Beit HaMikdash (Holy Temple).

They reached Har Tzofim (Mount Scopus), from where the Temple Mount can be seen, and they rent their garments in mourning. When they reached the Temple Mount they sighted a fox exiting the area where the Holy of Holies once stood. They all began sobbing, aside for Rabbi Akiva, who was laughing.

"Why do you laugh?" they asked.

"Why do you cry?" Rabbi Akiva rejoined.

"The site regarding which it is stated (Numbers 1:51), 'Any outsider who approaches shall be put to death,' and now foxes wander there—and we should not cry?!"

Rabbi Akiva noted two clashing prophecies from Uriah and Zechariah.

By Uriah it is stated (Michah 3:12), 'Therefore, because of you, Zion shall be plowed as a field.' Zechariah said (Zechariah 8:4), 'Old men and women shall yet sit in the streets of Jerusalem.'

"As long as Uriah's prophecy was not fulfilled, I was worried that neither will Zechariah’s. Now that Uriah's prophecy has been fulfilled, it is certain that Zechariah's will too."

With these words the sages responded to Rabbi Akiva:

"Akiva, you have comforted us; Akiva, you have comforted us."

This Shabbat is referred to as Shabbat Nachamu (Shabbat of Consolation), named after the Haftorah, which opens with the words, “Console, console My people," says your God.” This Shabbat follows the Three Weeks and Tisha B’Av, an annual period of national mourning over the loss of our sacred Temples. As such, it is the first of seven weeks of consolation, in which we read of G-d’s promise to redeem the Jewish people and end this bitter and long exile.

Interestingly, in both the Haftorah and the story in the Talmud, there is a double expression of consolation. What is the meaning of the double expression?

To explain this, let’s study this passage a bit better. What does Rabbi Akiva mean when he says that so long as Uriah’s prophecy wasn’t fulfilled, I wasn’t certain that Zechariah’s prophecy will be fulfilled? Was Rabbi Akiva a nonbeliever? One of the greatest Rabbis in the Talmud is uncertain that the hundreds of prophecies about Moshiach will be fulfilled?!

That can’t be! So, what does he mean?

Our little anecdote from Soviet Russia can help us here.

On the surface, the field being torn up is negative. But, truthfully, it’s not a drawback at all. In fact, it’s part of the solution. Without it, the solution is actually farther from reality. What seems like a problem is in fact assisting to reach the goal.

When the Rabbis saw the destruction of Jerusalem to such utter degree that G-d’s Home was not only destroyed – but also continuously desecrated – they took it as a sign of despair. G-d must be really angry with us. The exile is only getting worse. Why does G-d pour salt onto the wound of our exile?

Rabbi Akiva looked at it differently. G-d’s plan – as prophesied by Uriah – is that the exile will be unbearable and painful. And, commensurate with that will be the ultimate reward. In fact, the painful desecration is a step toward the rebuilding.

In other words, if the pain had not been so intense, then the proportionate salvation would likewise be pedestrian. But, upon seeing such utter destruction, Rabbi Akiva realized the deeper truth of pain. Pain and difficulty is an asset toward the growth and recovery that follows.

Knowing that the reward would develop from the pain, he rejoiced. Doubly.

We too, go through life processes that may include difficulties, impasses, and agony. Knowing that they are not ruining our goal provides relief. Knowing they are a step in the right direction provides joy.

May Hashem grant us the ultimate and revealed joy with the coming of Moshiach now.

We are doubly ready.

A Loving Touch

Fri, 17 Jul 2026 7:14:00 AM

Tonight we will drink wine. Tonight we will eat meat. It’s Shabbat.

But, earlier this week, we abstained from eating meat and drinking wine. That’s because we are in middle of the Nine Days, the saddest time in the Jewish calendar.

We mourn the destruction of the Beit HaMikdash, the Holy Temple, in Jerusalem. Nearly two thousand years later, Jews still abstain from comforts during the days leading up to Tisha B’Av.

Together with our deep and enduring grief over the loss of our sacred Sanctuary, we face forward and wish each other, “May these days be transformed into days of gladness and joy.” This is based on a verse in Zechariah (8:19), which states that the fast days, “Shall be for the house of Judah for joy and happiness and for festivals.” When Moshiach comes, Tisha B’Av won’t be a fast day. It will be a great holiday.

How can we mourn the loss and celebrate the future all at once?

In this week’s parsha Devarim, Moshe begins a long rebuke of the Jewish people. His opening words reflect one how long the journey from Mount Sinai to the Holy Land should have taken. Eleven days.

Instead it took forty years. That huge discrepancy is due to the shortcomings of the Jewish people. Had they behaved properly, they would have entered the Promised Land immediately after the Giving of the Torah.

There’s a fascinating comment in the Talmud that seems to blame Moshe’s less-than-perfect love of his fellow Jews as the cause of their wandering in the wilderness for four decades.

In a debate with heretics, the Talmud records Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai, responding to them that, “If Moses, our teacher, was a lover of the Jewish people, why did he delay them in the wilderness forty years?”

We all know that the Jews were prevented from entering the Land of Israel due to the sin of the Spies. So, why does Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai suggest that Moshe has any responsibility for this? And, how can he impugn the love that Moshe has for the Jews? Wasn’t Moshe willing to be erased from the Torah to defend his people?

The answer to this mystery lies in our perspective on punishment. Imagine a parent who wants to help their child grow. She punishes the child so that the child will learn a lesson and become a better person.

Is that love or hate?

Obviously, it’s love. But, not all love is gushing with smiles. Sometimes love is about helping someone improve or learn – despite the difficult and painful process necessary.

A truly loving leader is one who cares for his people in all ways. Ostensibly, delaying in the wilderness for forty years is only punishment and pain. But, Moshe knows that through this process the Jewish people would mature and improve themselves. The adversity and suffering would strengthen them and lift them to greater heights. This would prepare them to enter the land properly. They would not fail this time around.

Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai’s rhetorical question actually has an answer. Moshe is a lover of the Jewish people. And, Moshe did indeed participate in their delayed entry into the land. Because real love is not always pretty.

As we enter the final stretch of the Nine Days, it’s important to remember that Hashem loves us. Despite the loss of the Holy Temple and the tremendous, unbearable suffering of our people, His love is unwavering.

Ultimately, our exile is not merely a punishment. It’s a preparation for great things to come.

May these days be transformed into days of gladness and joy – and festivals.

Verbal Billboards

Fri, 10 Jul 2026 9:21:00 AM

Have you ever made a promise that you haven’t kept? Probably, you figure, no one remembers anymore about my pledge, so I’m not hurting anyone if I don’t fulfill it.

The holy Baal Shem Tov once heard a disciple of his angrily tell a colleague, “I will tear you apart like a fish.” It was in the heat of the moment and the argument was not severe or lasting. Nonetheless, the founder of the Chassidic movement asked his students to gather in a circle holding hands. He instructed them to close their eyes. Once he joined the circle by placing his hands on the students next to him – all the participants shouted in alarm. They were appalled at the sight they saw. The vision they were witness to was their colleague literally tearing up his friend.

The Baal Shem Tov explained that everything we say has far-reaching ramifications. We may only intend something to be spoken, but in a higher realm it is already acted upon. Our words carry far more impact than we are willing to admit.

When we make promises, we accomplish something very real in the spiritual cosmos. Those words live on forever, and in a certain sense hover above us. When I pledge to lose 50 pounds, it’s as if I have put up a billboard stating “I have already lost 50 pounds.” In fact, spiritually, that billboard already exists.

This, then, is the critical message of this week’s Torah portion, Matot, in its opening words: If a man vows a vow to G-d, or swears an oath to bind his soul with a bond; he shall not break his word; according to all that proceeds out of his mouth shall he do.

It isn’t only about honoring our pledge to G-d and others. It’s about conforming to the reality we have already created.

Perhaps it’s time we live up to the billboards we are placing all over heaven.

Celebrating 250 Years!

Fri, 3 Jul 2026 10:28:00 AM

by Rabbi Yankie Denburg, Chabad of Coral Springe, Florida

In August of 1790, George Washington sailed into Newport, Rhode Island.

The backstory to that trip is fascinating. The Constitution had already been accepted by the other twelve states, but Rhode Island resisted joining the Union. Many there feared that this new federal government would swallow up their small state and their independence.

Washington wanted all thirteen states together. He wanted the new country to begin with unanimous consent, not only with a majority. He promised Rhode Island that if they ratified the Constitution, he would personally come for an official visit.

Waiting in Newport was a small Jewish community.

For them, this was not just a presidential visit. This was a moment of uncertainty. The Jews had lived through enough history to know that when a new government rises, Jews need to know where they stand.

They had heard all the talk about liberty and equality. But was it real? Would they be accepted here long term as truly equal citizens? Or would they be tolerated for now, only to be pushed aside later?

Would America become another country where Jews were welcome as long as they remained quiet, useful, and not too Jewish?

So Moses Seixas, the leader of the Hebrew Congregation in Newport, wrote a letter to President Washington. The synagogue, known today as Touro Synagogue, is the oldest surviving synagogue building in the United States.

Seixas wrote with “a deep sense of gratitude to the Almighty,” and thanked this new government for “generously affording to all liberty of conscience, and immunities of citizenship.”

It’s a beautiful letter. But as you read it, you can also hear the mindset of a people who had spent centuries depending on the kindness of rulers. Seixas was thanking the government for “generously affording” them freedom. He was hoping that unlike other countries, where Jews were merely tolerated, here they would truly become equal members of this new brotherhood.

Washington wrote back with one of the most important responses in American Jewish history, including the famous words that the United States gives “to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance.”

But there is another key theme in the letter that we need to notice.

The Jews were asking if this new government would accept them as equals, despite their identity as a uniquely Jewish community.

Washington did not respond by saying, “As president, I grant you permission to be Jewish.”

He wrote that “all possess alike liberty of conscience and immunities of citizenship.”

That word “possess” changes everything.

Washington was telling the Jews that their liberty did not come from him. It did not come from the generosity of the government. It was not a favor being granted by one group to another.

They already possessed it.

Washington was expressing one of the great founding ideas of America: freedom is not created by government. It is an inherent right, a Divine gift from G-d Himself. Government can recognize this gift. Government can protect it.

But government does not create it.

This Shabbat, July 4th, America turns 250. It is a milestone worth pausing on. And it turns out that the number 250 is hiding in this week’s Torah portion in a way that speaks directly to who we are.

This week’s Torah portion, Pinchas, contains a census of the Jewish people as they are preparing to enter the Land of Israel.

On the surface, a census makes everyone equal. The great scholar and the simple farmer, the wealthy person and poor person, are each counted as one sum. Usually, they are counted by the total of each tribe.

But this census is different.

This time, the Torah lists the individual families within each tribe. Reuben’s son Chanoch becomes the Chanoch family. Palu becomes the Palu family. Name by name. Branch by branch. Family by family.

The first and only other time the Torah counts the Jewish people this way is when Jacob and his children leave Canaan and go down to Egypt.

The Jewish people spent 210 years in Egypt, followed by 40 years in the desert. Which means that this unique, individualized census was taking place exactly 250 years after the Torah last listed the individual names of Jacob’s family.

Think about that.

Our story of exile begins with one family, seventy souls, leaving the Promised Land. The Torah stops and names them.

250 years later, that family has now become an entire nation. They are standing at the edge of the desert, preparing to enter the Promised Land. And once again, the Torah stops and names each family.

At the two most pivotal moments, before leaving the land and before returning to the land, G-d names each family individually.

Why?

Because when you are about to be absorbed into something enormous, you need to remember who you are.

When Jacob’s family went down to Egypt, they were entering the greatest empire of the time. Egypt had power, wealth, culture, influence, and noise. It would have been easy for one Jewish family to disappear.

So G-d named them.

You are not just refugees entering Egypt. You are the children of Israel. You have a name. You have a mission. You have a destiny.

250 years later, they were about to become a nation in their own land. They would face new dangers as they conquered the land, built an economy, and learned to function as a country.

So G-d named them again.

You are still the Chanoch family. You are still the Palu family. You are the descendants of people who walked into exile and did not disappear. Now you are walking into success, into homeownership and businesses, into responsibility and blessing. Do not disappear there either.

I think this is exactly the message we need after 250 years of America.

Many people are asking today, “Is the America of today still the America of Washington? Do we still have the liberty and freedom that he wrote about?”

It is a fair question.

America has changed in many ways. Jews feel a hatred today that many of us did not feel just a few years ago. Antisemitism is louder. Hatred of Israel has exposed hatred of Jews. Jewish students on campus feel pressure. A Jew wearing a yarmulke or Magen David sometimes wonders who is looking at him and what they are thinking.

So let’s take a moment to remember the foundation of both our freedom and our identity in this country.

Our freedom did not begin with government. Our liberty did not come from public approval. Our identity was never determined by the culture around us.

If our freedom comes from people, then people can take it away. But if it comes from G-d, no one can take it away.

That is why G-d begins the Ten Commandments by not only telling us who He is, but also by reminding us who we are.

“I am the L-rd your G-d, who took you out of Egypt, from the house of slavery.”

Before G-d tells us what to do, He tells us who we are.

You are not Pharaoh’s property. You are not owned by an empire or a king. You are not defined by the country where you live or by the people around you. You are not a slave to fear, fashion, pressure, or public opinion.

You belong to G-d. And He gave you a name.

That is real liberty.

But liberty comes with responsibility.

Freedom does not mean I can do whatever I want. Freedom means I can finally do what I was created to do. Freedom means I can live with purpose. Freedom means I can stand proudly as a Jew, not because everyone approves, but because G-d gave me a soul, a name, and a mission.

After 250 years in the desert, the Jewish people needed to hear their names again.

They had become a nation. They were about to enter their land. But before they stepped into their future, G-d reminded them of their beginning. You are not just part of the crowd. You are not just a census. You are not just part of something large and powerful.

You have a Jewish name. You have Jewish ancestors. You have a Jewish mission. You are the children of Abraham, who must walk with confidence, humility, and purpose!

After 250 years of America, we need that reminder as well.

We should be deeply grateful for this country, the “land of the free.” We should pray that America returns again to its highest ideals, that it gives “bigotry no sanction and persecution no assistance”.

But gratitude is not enough.

We must ask ourselves if we are still using the freedom that George Washington described the way G-d intended?

Are we using it to live more Jewishly? Are we teaching our children that being Jewish is not something to hide, soften, or apologize for, but something to cherish?

We do not need the world to make us feel free.

G-d already made us free.

He gave us a soul. He gave us a name. He gave us a Torah. He gave us a mission. And no government, no hatred, no pressure campaign, and no passing moment in history can take that away.

So this July 4th, let us celebrate freedom by living like free Jews.

Proudly. Openly. Gratefully. Faithfully.

Want to learn more about America and Jewish values? Click here.

Do Not Reckon

Fri, 26 Jun 2026 9:41:00 AM

During Stalin’s brutal rule, he targeted many enemies. Religion was one of them. Practicing Judaism was not officially outlawed. Instead, it was relentlessly crushed through state-sponsored suppression. Synagogues were confiscated and repurposed, religious education was banned, and mikvahs were filled with cement.

Supreme amongst the methods was going after the Jewish religious leaders. If they were persecuted and ceased to exist, the entire edifice of Jewish life would crumble.

To a large degree, Stalin and the Communists were successful.

But, there was one man who stood in his way. His name was Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn, the Previous (sixth) Lubavitcher Rebbe. He was defiant in his battle to preserve Judaism, no matter the cost.

And, cost him it did. He built underground Jewish schools, synagogues, and mikvahs. He raised funds and sent Rabbis (a forbidden profession) and Shochtim all over the Soviet Union. His underground network was flourishing. And, it did not escape the watchful eye of the OGPU, the security and intelligence apparatus of the Stalinist regime.

The Previous Rebbe knew they were trailing him. Some of his followers were arrested. But, he soldiered on. In fact, there were agents at his gatherings. Defiantly, he addressed them directly and told them that he has no fear. No one would take away our G-dly right – and responsibility – to live as proud and observant Jews.

Sure enough, he was arrested in 1927.

There was no trial. He was sentenced to death by firing squad.

Miraculously, his sentence was commuted to 10 years of hard labor in the Siberian gulag.

Miraculously, his sentence was further reduced to 3 years of exile in the remote town of Kostroma.

Miraculously, he was released after serving 9 days in exile.

On his way to exile, a huge crowd gathered at the Leningrad train station to see him off into exile. The Previous Rebbe addressed the crowd with these words:

We did not depart from the Land of Israel of our own free will, nor shall we return to the Land of Israel by virtue of our own capabilities. G‑d, our Father and King, has sent us into exile. He, may He be blessed, shall redeem us and gather in the dispersed from the four corners of the earth, and cause us to be led back firmly and proudly by Mashiach, our righteous Redeemer — may this occur speedily, in our times. This, however, all the nations of the world must know: Only our bodies were sent into exile and subjugated to alien rule; our souls were not given over into captivity and foreign rule.

We must proclaim openly and before all that any matter affecting the Jewish religion, Torah, and its mitzvot and customs is not subject to the coercion of others. No one can impose his belief upon us, nor coerce us to conduct ourselves contrary to our beliefs.

It is our solemn and sacred task to cry out and state with the ancient steadfastness of the Jewish people, with courage derived from thousands of years of self-sacrifice: "Touch not My anointed nor attempt to do evil to My prophets."

Despite the fact that he had already suffered immense pain and torture – and was now being sent into exile – he spoke fearlessly and boldly. Where did he get this from? And, how was he convinced that this was the Jewish way?

A key, pertinent verse from this week’s double-Parsha Chukat-Balak can shed some light. One major theme of the parsha is the attempted curse of Bilaam. He was a non-Jewish prophet hired to curse the Jews. Ultimately, G-d planted words of praise in his mouth. Instead of cursing the Jews, he blessed them.

He declared, “How can I curse whom G-d has not cursed? How can I invoke G-d’s wrath? G-d has not been angered! For from their beginning, I see them as mountain peaks, and I behold them as hills. See a nation that will dwell alone. It will not be reckoned among the nations.”

He goes on to deliver some of the most beautiful poetic blessings, such as the famous words in our daily prayers, “How good are your tents, Jacob, your encampments, Israel!”

But, let’s rewind to the first words out of his mouth once he realizes that G-d won’t allow him to curse the Jews. How is “a nation that dwells alone” and that “will not be reckoned among the nations” a positive blessing?

The Chassidic Rebbes teach that this verse is not only a prophecy, but marching orders. It is instructing and guiding us to achieve true success. The success of the Jewish people does not lie in diplomacy and might. Though at times necessary, they do not represent the core, immutable, and eternal values of who we are. Our preservation lies in the fact that we live our lives according to our nation’s spiritual calling. We do not reckon or worry about what the nations of the world think or say about us. Despite the naysayers, we remain steadfastly committed to Torah and Judaism.

Indeed, our devotion to our faith has been tested by oppression, assimilation, and ridicule. And, it has withstood them all because of leaders like the Sixth Lubavitcher Rebbe.

Tonight and tomorrow mark the Rebbe’s miraculous liberation from exile on 12 Tammuz 5687 (July 12, 1927). Eventually, he brought the Chabad-Lubavitch movement to the shores of the United States, planting the seeds for the exponential growth that his successor, the Seventh Lubavitcher Rebbe, would create.

This Shabbat, let us recommit to reckon not with what other say. Let us reckon with our faith, reckon with our souls, and reckon with our holy Torah. In this merit, the millennia of self-sacrifice of countless Jews will reach their ultimate fruition with eth coming of Moshiach immediately.

Opportunity Knocks

Fri, 19 Jun 2026 7:42:00 AM

This week’s parsha has a strange name. It’s called Korach, named after an infamous fellow who led a revolt against Moshe. The Torah tells about his rebellion and how he was swallowed up by the earth. True, the major theme of the parsha is Korach’s failed mutiny. But why name an entire parsha after a wicked person? We don’t even have a “Moshe” parsha in the Torah!

We can better understand Korach’s character by posing yet another question: Why did Korach wait until this particular moment to challenge Moshe’s leadership? For an entire year and a half he did not voice his opposition to Moshe. But, now – after the story of the spies (see last week’s parsha Shelach), he suddenly decides to confront Moshe and Ahron. What prompted his decision? Did he not see what happens to rebels?!

Many superb commentaries address the issue of what bothered Korach. One fifteenth-century commentator, Rabbi Yitzchak Abarbanel, addresses the timing of his dispute. Rabbi Abarbanel points out that Korach waited to act until precisely after the sin of the Spies. After the Almighty decreed that the Jews would wander for forty years (instead of immediate entry to the Holy Land), the Jewish people fell into a state of despondency. Korach recognized this and exploited the opportunity.

Just like the shrewd politician who sees all events – good or bad – as opportunities to be seized, Korach knew when to act. It was only due to this unique timing that Korach was able to assemble a following of any sort. Sadly, his mission was sinister and ended in disaster.

Interestingly, the Talmud states that Korach was a very bright man. As the saying goes, the higher they are the lower they fall (in this case quite literally!). So, Korach had some great qualities. He just misused them.

Jewish tradition, in utilizing Korach’s name for this parsha, is teaching us that even the wicked possess great qualities. We can learn a lesson from everyone and anyone. If we search for Korach’s good qualities, we can transform this sad chapter in our history into a great moment of personal growth.

In our generation we are fortunate to see this very principle implemented. The Lubavitcher Rebbe, of righteous memory, who escaped the devastation of Nazi Europe, also saw an opportunity. Unlike Korach, he was not looking for an opportunity for himself. He was seeking a way to help others. While the world lamented the state of Jewry after losing a third of our people, the Rebbe sprang into action. The Rebbe saw people in need and amassed an army of people to help.

We too are faced with opportunities. We can choose to ignore them. Or we can choose to exploit them – in a good way. In honor of the Rebbe’s 32nd yahrzeit yesterday, let’s continue the Rebbe’s legacy and turn each opportunity into yet one more mitzvah.

Never Negotiate Against Yourself

Fri, 12 Jun 2026 6:13:00 AM

It’s hard to know with whom America is negotiating.

We hear conflicting reports by the hour – or minute – about whether a deal with Iran is imminent or not. Or, whether any real negotiations are actually happening.

It reminds me of the business saying, “Never negotiate against yourself!”

This principle might help us understand the fatal flaw in this week’s parsha.

In Parshat Shelach we read about Moshe sending spies to scout out the Land of Israel, then known as Canaan. Unfortunately, they returned with a negative report, leading to the catastrophic punishment of wandering in the wilderness for 40 years. Only, the next generation would enter the Promised Land.

How did the spies – who had witnessed the Exodus from Egypt, Splitting of the Sea, Revelation at Sinai, and daily Manna from heaven – fail to have faith in G-d, Who promised the land to them?

A key failure can be found in their attitude. Instead of focusing on G-d’s promise and their own inner strength, they defined themselves by how they stacked up against others.

They looked at the tall Canaanites and stated:

“We seemed to ourselves as tiny as grasshoppers next to them, and so did we seem to them!”

The commentaries explained that this verse repeats the assessment of the spies’ size because it was their own fault. By looking small in their own eyes, it caused them to look small in the eyes of others.

Don’t negotiate with yourself! Remember that Hashem believes in you!

With this approach, the sea splits and the Land of Canaan becomes the Land of Israel!

Give or Take

Fri, 5 Jun 2026 8:27:00 AM

My daughter informed us of a dilemma she has at her dormitory. She can choose roommates who will give her a great time or she can choose roommates who may not be her best friends, but who look up to her and need her leadership. This was the choice her dorm counselor gave her.

My wife and I left the decision with her. But, we were impressed to hear her say that she realizes that sometimes you gain more out of giving versus getting.

In this week’s parsha Behaalotecha, G-d commands Moshe to share of his spirit with the seventy elders. By delegating some of his own spirit, the burden on Moshe would be lessened.

But if Moshe gifts a portion of his spirit, doesn’t that diminish Moshe? As the saying goes, “You can't have your cake and eat it too.”

The Midrash asks this very question: Was Moses’ prophecy perhaps diminished? No. This is comparable to a burning candle from which many candles are lit, yet its own light is not diminished. So, too, Moses lost nothing that was his.

The Midrash is clear that in this instance it was a win-win situation. We could argue that all spiritual gifts are win-win. When I teach Torah to my neighbor or help my friend light Shabbat candles, I have only gained by sharing.

Even the time and expertise I have given is really a gift to myself. My neshama has grown tremendously from sharing with another.

But let’s be honest. There are times when my spiritual gift comes at a price. To teach someone with less knowledge I need to minimize my perception and condense my explanation to the level of the recipient. There certainly is a moral impact on my psyche and soul when I constrain myself to share with others. And we have not even spoken of the lost potential for greater personal growth!

In fact, the Midrash teaches that there is another degree of spiritual gifting – one that indeed comes with a price tag. When Moshe installed Yehoshua (Joshua) as his successor, he also gave of his glory to Yehoshua. However, this time the Midrash compares it to pouring from one vessel into another vessel. The distinction is obvious: a candle may endure with the same intensity no matter how many subsequent candles are kindled from it. But the same cannot be said about substance that is discharged from one vessel into another.

So it turns out there are two types of giving. And therefore at times we will need to sacrifice and at times we will not. Doing the right thing doesn’t always pay dividends. There are times we indeed sacrifice something of ourselves for the benefit of a fellow.

But there are also times when we commit ourselves to our fellow so absolutely – when the gift comes from a place so deep and so true within us--that we only grow from the experience, no matter how much we give of ourselves.

Inner Terrorist

Fri, 29 May 2026 9:02:00 AM

Once, Rabbi Dovber of Lubavitch remained closeted in his room for a few days, refusing to see visitors. It was unprecedented and it seemed that the great Rebbe was involved in a deep spiritual struggle. His followers could hear him crying endlessly in his room.

When asked about this strange behavior, the Rebbe explained:

“Whenever someone confers with me on spiritual matters, and in particular when one asks me for a path of penance, I endeavor to find their spiritual 'issue' or shortcoming, albeit on a more subtle level, in myself. In doing so, I am able to relate to the person's spiritual standing. Consequently, and being in 'his' shoes, so to speak, I can seek out the most appropriate spiritual remedy.

Earlier this week I was visited by an individual who sought a penitential path for a terrible sin he had committed. No matter how hard I tried, however, I could not find his transgression, however remotely, in myself. Thus, I wasn't able to help him. After grappling with this for the past few days, I was finally able to help him…"

In the spirit of this story, it’s important for us to look inward – rather than simply outward – when confronted with terror and evil. If it occurs in our orbit, it must have meaning in our lives.

As we gear up to America’s 250^th anniversary, this message must bear weight.

But, how can I relate to a terrorist? How can I see myself as a cold-blooded murderer? Isn’t that precisely what separates America and its values from other types of people and groups?

Here’s an interesting lesson from this week’s parsha, Naso.

The kohanim (priests) are instructed to bless the Jewish people as follows:

May the Lord bless you and watch over you. May the Lord cause His countenance to shine to you and favor you. May the Lord raise His countenance toward you and grant you peace.

Rashi explains the initial blessing to be a blessing for material possessions. The end of the verse refers to G-d’s protection. This means that no thieves shall attack you and steal your money.

The Chassidic Master point out that this blessing also carries spiritual weight. Allegorically, it means that G-d should bless and grant success to our efforts to refine ourselves and serve Him wholeheartedly. And may He guard our successes so that the forces of evil not hijack the spiritual excitement we generate in prayer and transform it afterwards into righteous indignation or an awakening of physical desire. In other words, spiritual awakening is a fragile experience. It has the potential for great heights. But, it can easily be misconstrued, hijacked, and dragged into the worst places possible.

Sometimes, it’s possible that we have a tiny terrorist inside of us. The voice that wishes to hijack a moment of inspiration and turn it into an excuse not to show up for work. The voice that tries to abuse the sacred time of prayer for negative thoughts. The voice that attempts to commandeer a holy festival into just another moment of merrymaking. That’s the terrorist inside of us.

We may not have the capacity to single-handedly eliminate every evil lurking on this planet. But we do have the full control and resources to eradicate the terrorist and the hijacker within. That’s probably a good place to start influencing the world.

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.