www.jewishidaho.com | Blogs | Rabbi's Blog

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.

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.