Monday, March 31, 2025

Do Not Be Fooled by the 'Anti-Hamas' Protests

by Bassam Tawil
  • Those who are rushing to celebrate the protests in Gaza need to consider that they are most likely nothing but a show by the Iran-backed Hamas to fool the world into thinking that there is an uprising against the terrorist group.
  • After all, this is the same Hamas that kept signaling to everyone, years before its terrorists attacked Israel on October 7, 2023, that it was not interested in another round of fighting. Then it murdered and brutally tortured 1,200 Israelis and kidnapped 251.
  • What would Norway or Denmark do if ISIS or Al-Qaeda were on its border, seeking to destroy it?
  • According to some reports, Hamas members have been spotted leading some of Gaza's demonstrations.
  • Last year, Israel tried to encourage anti-Hamas clans to play a role in managing the Gaza Strip -- without success. Regrettably, several clans have, over the past year, issued statements expressing support for Hamas as the "sole representative of the Gaza Strip."
  • The current protests are taking place for one reason only: Hamas is conspicuously losing the war... The protesters are just angry that Israel retaliated so hard.
  • All Hamas would have to do for Israel to stop is to free the 59 remaining hostages, only 24 of whom possibly remain alive – but all of whom are victims of a kidnapping that should not have happened in the first place.
  • Sadly, there is no alternative to the complete removal of Hamas.... [T]here is no difference between Hamas's political wing and its military wing. Hamas's political wing, in fact, requires the military wing, to be able to stay in power.
  • If the West falls for Hamas's latest ploy, the terror group will simply soon be able to take control of the Gaza Strip with a rebranded name. Hamas's primary goal, after all, is to remain in power.
  • It is time to stop projecting Western values and aspirations onto Islamist societies. The protests in the Gaza Strip are not a shift toward peace. Instead, they are a symptom of the Palestinians' failure, once again, to achieve their goal of murdering Jews and eliminating Israel.
  • Make no mistake: Once the Palestinians recover from the war, they will continue their jihad against Israel. Many of the "anti-Hamas" protesters will then reappear, this time complete with masks, weapons and military gear.

The current protests are taking place for one reason only: Hamas is conspicuously losing the war. It is time to stop projecting Western values and aspirations onto Islamist societies. The protests in the Gaza Strip are not a shift toward peace. Instead, they are a symptom of the Palestinians' failure, once again, to achieve their goal of murdering Jews and eliminating Israel. Pictured: An anti-Hamas protest in Beit Lahia, in the northern Gaza Strip, on March 26, 2025. (Photo by AFP via Getty Images)

The recent anti-Hamas protests in the Gaza Strip are seen by some Western and Arab political analysts as a positive and encouraging development.

Those who are rushing to celebrate the protests in Gaza need to consider that they are most likely nothing but a show by the Iran-backed Hamas to fool the world into thinking that there is an uprising against the terrorist group.

After all, this is the same Hamas that kept signaling to everyone, years before its terrorists attacked Israel on October 7, 2023, that it was not interested in another round of fighting. Then it murdered and brutally tortured 1,200 Israelis and kidnapped 251.

One of Hamas's tactics has been to try to protect its terrorists by hiding them among civilians. According to some reports, Hamas members have been spotted leading some of Gaza's demonstrations.

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Friday, March 28, 2025

Igrot Hare’aya – Letters of Rav Kook: Refuting Criticism by the Ridbaz, part II

 #311 – part II 

Date and Place: 19 Sivan 5670 (1910), Yafo

Recipient and Background: Rav Yaakov David Wilovsky (Ridbaz), a leading rabbi who moved to Eretz Yisrael and was known, among other things, as a strong opponent of leniencies on Shemitta. The main topic of the first installment was the damage of not allowing the Shemitta leniency.

Body: I now respond to your distinction between those who devised the leniency of selling the land, who did not fight for its implementation, and me. This claim does not make sense to me. What reason did he have to fight for it? He (perhaps, Rav Shmuel Mohaliver or Rav Yitzchak Elchanan Spektor) lived in the Diaspora. He did not see the poverty and the pressure upon the farmers, who set their eyes [on the rabbis] to sustain them and their families from their produce, while they were under the pressure of various taxes. Additionally, they have the expense of the Shemitta process, which is cumbersome even after the leniency of the sale of the land. He also did not see the general danger to Judaism that would stem from the proclamation of a prohibition on this matter that people could not uphold.

Those who were here did not need to fight because until this Shemitta year, things proceeded smoothly. Whoever wanted to be stringent for himself did so, but there was no disturbance to people’s ability to sell the produce on which their livelihood depended nor aspersions placed on those who followed the leniency. Similarly, people do not cast aspersions on the many [Diaspora] Jews with large estates, who use non-Jews to work the fields with their animals on Shabbat and holidays, based on a legal fiction of selling the fields to the non-Jews, due to the great loss [if they do not do so]. Only recently have the stringent assembled to publicly criticize and to say that which we should never have to hear; this causes immeasurable problems. How can it be that I, who am positioned in the midst of the Yishuv, would not stand by them?

You also wonder why sinners support me and those who fear Hashem oppose me. Why should it be a wonder? Everyone can see that being stringent will have a negative material impact on the Holy Land’s Jewish community. Therefore, when I act to protect from such danger, they recognize the benefit. Those who fear Hashem only look at the spiritual side, from whose perspective it is better to be stringent. However, there are G-d fearers who have a clear outlook and do not deceive themselves or others. They see my noble intentions and support me.

There is precedent from the time of Ezra, when some great and good people did not want to rebuild the Jewish community of Eretz Yisrael. Ezra took the people with poor lineage and ugly actions, who did not merit blessing, and they desecrated Shabbat even in Eretz Yisrael. Even so, salvation grew from their arrival. The Second Temple was built; we received the publicizing of the Oral Law, the expansion of Rabbinical legislation, and the dissemination of Torah in the Jewish world. (It says in Heichalot that the Torah’s main glory was in the Second Temple period.)

The same thing will happen with Hashem’s help in our times. As we strengthen the developing Yishuv and more brethren will come to settle here, the light of liberation will grow. At the end, all the sinners will repent fully with love and joy, with the help of the light of the Holy Land’s sanctity. This will be aided by Torah scholars who truly serve Hashem and love the Jewish Nation. They will go with them with love and patience, and the whole world will see that the righteous are concerned for the sinners’ welfare. This shall awaken the sleeping spark of Israel’s deeply hidden sanctity, even in the hearts of those who appear bereft [of mitzvot]. All of them together will be a vessel that holds sanctity for Hashem’s nation on His holy soil, which He chose from all the lands.

If only my words will penetrate your heart, and you will join me on this holy path, to help raise the stature of the Yishuv. We will thereby sanctify His Name in the world, and the banner of Torah and the honor of Torah scholars will be elevated on the holy soil.

There are too many donations!

by Rav Binny Freedman

Sometimes, it’s that one extra word that makes all the difference. It was only a fraction of a moment of my time in the army, but it was a lesson I never forgot, though to this day I am undecided as to whether I agree with it.

I was desperate to get a day off; we were still in basic training, and I had barely been in the army three months, but my folks were landing at the airport the next afternoon, and I was hoping my commanders would give me a break as I had not seen head or hair of any family in the two months since I had joined up.

My folks had done me the enormous favor of landing on a Thursday afternoon, which was the best possible day of the week for a tank crewman to get extra leave. Thursday was “Tipul She’vui” day, which meant the weekly servicing and cleaning of every last inch of every tank, top to bottom. In the Israeli army, there are no special maintenance crews that tag along to service the tanks with regular maintenance; unlike the American army, Israeli soldiers have to do it all on their own, and that means getting down and dirty with all the grease and grime, not to mention the endless inspections. Tank crews, often after a week of long maneuvers and little sleep, can usually be found working on their tanks into the wee hours of the morning to prepare for the infamous Friday morning inspections.

Add to that the fact that my unit was meant to get out for Shabbat (Friday morning after inspection), and special leave on Thursday would mean a pass all the way till Sunday, and I was desperate to get the day off.

Which was why I was standing at attention in the glaring sun, waiting for my sergeant to return with the answer to my properly formatted request (by way of the sergeant, to the platoon officer), for a special day’s leave.

I was afraid to dream in case I would be disappointed, yet I couldn’t help myself; visions of a hot bath, a night out on the town, and a real bed with clean sheets swam before my eyes.

The sergeant came out of the command tent a few minutes later, and I was shocked to see he actually had a smile on his face, I had never seen the muscles in his jaw work that way before, and then the one word I had been waiting for:

“Be’seder”, “O.K.”

“Be in your dress uniform at 08:00 hours, and your extra day’s leave is granted.’

I couldn’t help myself; a huge grin spread across my face, and I felt like dancing, and then that one terrible word escaped, the one I still remember:

“Todah.” “Thank you, sir.”

I could tell I was in trouble as soon as the words left my lips, his eyes changed first, then his entire face, and then the glare we all feared, the one that meant you were about to get a serious work-out.

“Mah Zeh?” “What’s that?”

Although I did end up getting out, albeit a good few hours later than I had hoped, I never worked so hard for a pass in my life. You see, in the army, you don’t say thank you.

After running around the base seven times singing “Lo’ Omrim Todah”, “Todah Al Kol Mah’ She’Barata’, and every other song with the word Todah (Thank you) in it that I could think of, they finally let me go, but the message would stay with me forever.

The army, I learned, is about orders and commands. There is no ‘thank you’ and no ‘you’re welcome’; you do what is expected of you because that’s your job.

Thank you implies the possibility you didn’t have to do what it was you were doing, and that you deserve to be thanked for going ahead and doing it anyway. In the army, however, you are always fulfilling orders, and no one would ever expect any less than total compliance, and complete obedience.

You don’t thank your kids for brushing their teeth in the morning, and your children don’t thank you for coming home at the end of the day; it’s just what you do, and who you are, and they would expect no less.

And yet, something has always bothered me about this approach, which never worked for me as a commander.

This week’s portion, Pekudei, is a case in point:

“And all the work of the Mishkan, the Tent of Meeting, was completed, and the children of Israel did all that Hashem had commanded them, so they did (“Ken Asu'”).” (Shemot 39:32)

Why does the Torah have to tell me that the Jewish people did everything that Hashem commanded them to do? Of course, they did! If G-d commanded you to do something, wouldn’t you do it? And note that the verse repeats itself, stressing the fact that they did all that was demanded of them; why is this worthy of mention? Should we have expected anything less?

As if this is not enough, the Torah does not stop there:

“And all that Hashem commanded Moshe, so did the children of Israel do: all of the labor.” (39:42)

Again, the Torah stresses that the Jewish people did it all, which seems redundant. Why is this so important? And then the Torah goes a stage further:

” And Moshe saw all the labor, and behold they did it just as Hashem had commanded, so did they do it, and Moshe blessed them.” (39: 43)

Why, now, all of a sudden does Moshe bless them?

What is the nature of this blessing? Is Moshe thanking them? Since when does Moshe say thank you to the Jewish people for doing what Hashem has asked of them?

Further, why are the Jewish people commanded to build the Mishkan in the first place? The Mishkan was for man’s benefit, not G-d’s. So why are the Jews blessed for fulfilling what was essentially a project for their own benefit? (Either as an opportunity to atone for, or at least somehow rectify the mistake of the Golden Calf, or as a vehicle to develop a more tangible relationship with G-d and create a more meaningful life.)

It would seem the Jewish people should be thanking G- d, and certainly not the other way around! So why is Moshe saying thank you here? And even if this blessing is of a different nature, what need is there for Moshe to offer any comment at all? The people did what was expected of them, end of story! What message is Moshe imparting to us here?

Additionally, it is interesting to note that verse 32 here seems to be out of order.

“And all the work of the Mishkan - the Tent of Meeting, was completed, and the children of Israel did all that Hashem had commanded them, so they did.”

Why does the verse tell me the work was completed and only then tell me the Jewish people did all they were commanded to do? Wouldn’t it make more sense to say that the Jews did all the work they were commanded to do, and thus, the Tabernacle was completed? Why the reverse and more challenging order in this verse?

And if we are discussing the accolades the Jewish people receive for having built the Mishkan exactly according to the specifications, we must also ask: who really built this tabernacle? Did all of the Jewish people lend a hand in the building? The idea that 600,000 men between the ages of twenty and sixty (army age) all got together and participated in this building project makes no sense whatsoever. It is hard enough to get two or three Jews together on a project; can you imagine trying to organize six hundred thousand?

Indeed, the verses are very clear about who actually built the Mishkan: the Chochmei Lev, the artisans under Betzalel and Ohaliav, built it. (See 36:2-4; 8) So why is the entire nation thanked for getting the job done down to the last detail?

It is interesting to note that this entire portion begins with unusual attention to detail; indeed, these are the opening words of the portion, from whence it derives its name:

“Eleh’ Pekudei HaMishkan..” Literally: “These are the accountings of the Mishkan..” (38:21)

Now that the Mishkan has been completed, the Torah gives us what is essentially a treasurer’s report of the collections tally; an accounting of all the income and outlay, and a list of all of the items produced in the making of the Mishkan, down to the last detail. Why is there a need to devote an entire portion to such a detailed list? The Torah is meant to be a recipe for living and a guide to life. Why must we be privy to how many sockets and posts were made, and how much gold and silver was used in the construction?

Many of the commentaries speak of the ethical implications here, and of the need for public servants to be accountable, but is there perhaps a deeper principle at the root of this three-thousand-year-old Excel spread sheet?

Lastly, the end of the portion, which usually relates to the theme and the purpose of all the ideas contained in the entire portion, also requires some explanation.

Recall that this week’s portion is also the concluding portion of the entire book of Shemot. As a rule, when studying a particular portion, the beginning and end of that portion allude to the theme of the entire portion; how the Torah chooses to begin and end a section, speaks volumes about the theme and goals of that section.

The end of this week’s parsha (portion) then, is rather critical towards understanding the theme, and indeed the point, of the entire book of Shemot.

Which makes the end of this book rather puzzling. The Torah tells us (40:34-38) that a cloud covered the tent of meeting, and “the glory of G-d filled the tent.” (Verse 34) And once the glory of G-d filled the Tent, Moshe could not enter it (verse 35). And this cloud, which seems somehow to be representative of the glory (honor?) of G-d, was also, the Torah tells me, the indicator for the Jewish people as to whether they should set forth or make camp. The Jewish people, we are told, in making their travel plans, do not depend on the weather, and they do not travel based on provisions. They watch the clouds of glory, and G-d’s self tells them when and for that matter, where to go.

Why is this the conclusion to the entire book of Exodus? And why is it apparently so important that Moshe could no longer enter the tent of meeting? And what does all this have to do with the issues discussed above?

This portion is clearly about the details, not just the significance of every single detail, but the value of seeing every detail as part of a larger picture.

The Netziv (Rav Naftali Tzvi Yehuda Berlin), the Rosh Yeshiva of Volozhin in the mid-nineteenth century), points out in his Ha’Emek Davar (39:42) that the tendency of most people in pursuit of great dreams, is to go far beyond the tasks at hand, and people tend to get so ‘carried away’ by the process, that they forget what the purpose was in the first place.

Indeed, the prelude to this challenge is already to be found in last week’s portion Va’Yakhel. The people were so excited at the prospect of building the Mishkan, and perhaps so moved by the opportunity to atone for their mistake in building a golden calf, that they could not donate enough goods for the Mishkan. Every morning the piles of material grew at an astounding rate (36:3) until the artisans responsible for the execution of the project could not keep up with the influx of material.

“And they said to Moshe, saying: the people are bringing too much, there is more material than is necessary for the work Hashem has commanded (us) to do.” (36:4)

Can you imagine? There are too many donations! Every Rabbi’s dream: the dinner was so successful there is too much money, and the people keep bringing more!

But still more incredible is Moshe’s response:

“And Moshe commanded and the word was spread throughout the camp saying: let every man and woman do no more work for the donation to the holy, and the people ceased bringing.” (36:6)

Moshe actually tells the people to stop bringing goods to donate to the tabernacle! Why? Why not just keep collecting the money, and put it away for a rainy day? What could possibly be wrong with the people continuing in the pursuit of what was obviously a very important mitzvah?

Perhaps what was really at the root of this dialogue was not what the people were bringing, but rather how they were bringing it.

Sometimes, we get so involved in the process; we forget what it is really all about.

I recall once having been invited to a bar mitzvah, which turned out to be a very lavish affair. The party took place on a Saturday night, and when I arrived it looked more like a wedding than a bar mitzvah, and it seemed very obvious that the guests of honor were indeed the bride and groom, who in this case were the parents of the Bar Mitzvah boy.

There were over four hundred people at this affair, magnificent tables, a band, lavish food, and the only thing missing was the bar mitzvah boy. Wanting to wish him a mazal tov, I finally found him with his friends in a separate room where he and his friends were having their own separate party, complete with dinner and games, Viennese desserts, video technology, a movie they were watching on a large screen, and of course. a cart full of presents which would eventually be wheeled out and opened as the central piece of their evening. It seemed there was plenty of ‘bar’, but very little ‘mitzvah’.

Sometimes, we lose sight of the purpose of what we are doing and allow ourselves to get caught up in the process of accomplishing it. Perhaps what was troubling Moshe and the artisans about all the giving, was that the people were so caught up in the zeal of giving to G- d, it had lost any connection to actually building the Mishkan; it had become about them, and their giving, rather than about G-d, and how to bring Hashem into the world.

(Which was why the fact that there was already enough to build the Mishkan was almost irrelevant. Kind of like the large Shuls one unfortunately sometimes encounters which have more plaques than people.)

So Moshe stops the giving, and reminds people not to forget the importance of becoming.

Which brings us back to this week’s portion. While that is a valuable lesson, it is also important, in the process of connecting (or re-connecting) to the ideals and goals of the project, not to forget the power and the importance of all of the details.

And this is a crucial part of life, which stands at the root of all our relationships and all of our dreams. Take, for example, the excitement of love, and that special time when you find that very special someone, and ‘love is in the air’. It almost seems that you can do anything, and that it doesn’t matter where you are or what you do, just as long as you are together.

But healthy marriages don’t last on walks in the park and candle-lit dinners. Because the garbage must be taken out every morning, the laundry has to get done, and the kids have to be taken to school with their lunches made each morning.

And before people get married, they often make time to talk about their shared dreams and goals, and what sort of a home they hope to build together. But they rarely get to think about who picks up the dirty socks, and what happens when the laundry basket is full at the end of a long day.

Most couples work these details out and come up with their own system for who does what when, and they often view this as a necessary part of a relationship, which is hopefully growing. And this is true in all relationships, whether between spouses, parents and their children, or even roommates. Whenever such relationships last, it is because the parties involved are willing to share the burden of all the chores and details that must be done to allow for the accomplishment of all the wonderful goals that were so ever present in the beginning.

The tragedy, however, is how much this approach loses along the way; because while this is all very true, it is also very sadly lacking.

Perhaps the point of this week’s parsha is that if the details are just “the burden of all the chores and details which must be done” as described above, then we are missing the most beautiful part of the process. The real challenge is to embrace the detail as part of a larger picture.

You can clean up the kitchen because someone has to do it, and you can even clean up your kitchen because you have been away for a while, and your wife works so hard, and how could you not at least clean up the kitchen? And if this is how you clean up the kitchen, then maybe you find yourself wistfully imagining how much more fun it would be to be walking your wife into a beautiful restaurant for a candle-lit dinner.

But you can also clean up the kitchen because you know it will bring a smile to your wife’s face, and the thought of her smiling when she walks out into the kitchen in the morning makes every dish you clean, into another rose in the vase. You can so infuse every detail of cleaning the kitchen, with the ideal of what you want your relationship to be about, that you actually transform your kitchen cleaning into a candle- lit dinner. (Though no one should assume this dispenses the need and the value of the occasional candle-lit dinner; it simply allows for candle-lit dinners on one level or another every day.)

And this is a part of what is going on here in this week’s portion of Pekudei. Because when Moshe blesses the people for the execution of all the details, what he is really valuing is the way in which all the details were done. Because if every shirt that gets folded is actually an act of love, then even if your wife is asleep while you are doing laundry, she is there with you all the time.

And when the Jewish people succeed in seeing G-d in all the details, then they have mastered the art of bringing G-d into the world, which is the entire point.

And this is what this portion is all about, here at the end of the book of Exodus. This book has three basic stages which are its theme.

First, the family of Israel, a family of brothers who sold their brother into slavery, becomes a nation made sensitive to human suffering by two hundred years of slavery. The beginning of the book of Shemot is all about the making of a great nation.

But that leaves the question: what is this great nation meant to do? They are given freedom, but what is that freedom for? So, the second part of the book is the recipe for how, with our newly acquired freedom, we can make a difference in the world: the middle of the book of Shemot is about the giving of the Torah. We acquire the mitzvoth, which are a blueprint for making the world a better place.

This leads us to the third piece: the goal of this recipe is not for us to find G-d beyond this world; the goal is to bring G-d into the world. The Jewish people have always been about making the world a better place by making room for G-d. And that is what building the Mishkan was all about. And if this week we conclude this process of creating space for G-d in our lives, then discovering the balance and the harmony between the power of the ideal, and the beauty of the detail is the crucial piece for making it all work.

And just as inculcating this idea into our lives on a personal level allows each of us to become a Mikdash Me’at, a living sanctuary for Hashem in this world, this is true also on a national level.

Rav Avraham Yitzchak HaKohen Kook, in his article Zaronim, points out seventy years ago, that this idea is at the root of the transformation we are undergoing as a people coming home, and his observations are every bit as relevant today as they were when he wrote them.

Rav Kook was answering a challenging question: if indeed the return of the Jewish people to their homeland was the beginning of the fulfillment of the two-thousand-year-old dream of redemption as foretold by the prophets, why was this dream coming about through the likes of Theodore Herzl, David Ben Gurion, and Golda Meir, who while certainly visionaries and incredible individuals, were certainly not the rabbis of their day?

Indeed, some of the early Zionist leaders described themselves (whether we agree with their assessment or not) as being anti-religious! So why was G-d choosing them to be instruments of the fulfillment of His prophecies, if indeed this was the fulfillment of those dreams?

Rav Kook’s response is that there are two components to Judaism, which he calls the Clalim, or general principles, and the Pratim, or details of those principles.

If the Clal (general idea) is to “Remember the Sabbath day” which means to take the time to be in the moment and learn to let go of the process of trying to get there, the Prat (detail) is not stirring the soup on the fire, as it is a form of cooking. The ideal, that when I choose not to cook on Shabbat, I am letting go of my role as a partner in creating the world and getting back in touch with G-d who put me here as His junior partner in the first place, is the Clal. Trying to determine what actually constitutes cooking, and whether the item is fully or partially cooked, and how many degrees Fahrenheit will actually cause the action I am involved with to be an act of cooking, is the Prat (the detail).

The Clalim are all the beautiful ideals, dreams, and goals of Judaism: to love your neighbor as yourself, to pursue justice, and to honor one’s parents. And the Pratim are all the details, such as whether one is obligated to stand up when a parent walks in the room, and how much effort we actually have to make to return the scarf someone left on the bus.

For two thousand years, says Rav Kook, we took for granted that people knew and would not forget the Clalim. What the Rabbis were afraid of was that people would forget the Pratim. There was a need to ensure the survival of the complex system of details that make up the beauty that is Judaism. Because make no mistake about it, as beautiful as all the goals and ideal of Judaism are, unless they are infused into our lives every day, in every moment and in everything that we do, they will remain simply as ideals and will have very little impact on how the world behaves, much less on how the world could be. And that is not what Judaism is about. Judaism believes that while the idea of Tzedakah (giving charity because it is the right thing to do) is powerful, unless we are confronted with it every time we draw a paycheck and every time we harvest our field, it will remain forever simply a nice idea.

However, in the process of ensuring that the details would not be forgotten, suggests Rav Kook, we lost touch with the Clalim. We got so wrapped up in the details, we lost sight of the goals and the dreams, the beauty and the inspiration. And so the Jewish people finally rebelled, and in a desire to get back to the beauty of the ideals, they let go of the power of the details. Which is why the early builders of the State of Israel for the most part wanted nothing to do with the details of Judaism and halachah (Jewish law). Yet they embraced all the ideals of Judaism; they just gave them a new name: socialism, or communism. How sad, that in saving the baby, they not only got rid of all the bathwater, they threw out the bath as well.

We are living in a time when there is a genuine thirst for discovering the beauty and the power of the Pratim, the details that fuel the Clalim, the goals and dreams of Judaism.

And it is interesting that there are two very distinct groups in Judaism today that are struggling to re- discover the beauty and inspiration of Judaism in their lives.

There are those who have had very little to do with the Pratim and have little knowledge of all of the details of a Jewish way of life, yet they are infused with the Clalim and have embraced the ideals of Judaism. They are learning in seminars and life training sessions around the world, to be in touch with the moment, that loving is all about giving, and that we are all really one. But they are thirsty to discover how holding a kiddush cup on Friday night can be a living embodiment of all of those ideals, and have little knowledge of how one makes kiddush, what one says, and what the words mean.

And then there are those who have been making kiddush all their lives, who know the words, and what they mean, by heart, and who are often well versed on the debate as to whether one stands or sits, or a little of both, during the Kiddush, as well as whether one can use grape juice or wine, how big the cup should be, and what the correct way to hold that cup is. They are immersed in the details, the Pratim, but those details have lost their shine; and while the details are crucial, the inspiration and the beauty, the power and the joy has been lost. They are thirsty, sometimes without even realizing it, for the Clalim, the inspiration of meaning and joy, hidden in every detail of every ritual.

This then, is the challenge of this week’s portion: can we create again the Jewish people as it was meant to be, which sees the beauty and the value in both of these crucial components of Judaism.

And there is one more important piece to this puzzle. Because when we speak of the beauty of the detail, and the value of seeing the whole in each of the details and connecting with G-d through every last detail, this is true not only for the process of our building of the Mishkan; it is true for our identity as a people as well.

It is clear from a contextual perspective that it was the artisans and the wise men who actually physically built the Mishkan. But the Ohr HaChaim (Rav Chaim Ibn Atar) points out that in giving to the Mishkan, the Jewish people became partners in the building of the Mishkan. And most importantly, they were all blessed, and all viewed as equally crucial and important in the fulfillment of this mission.

The building of the Mishkan was accomplished every bit as much by the fellow who donated his gold tooth for the Mishkan, as by the artisan who actually fashioned the Menorah wherein that gold tooth found its final home.

And more important than seeing the value of every detail of the Mishkan was the challenge of seeing the beauty and the value of every ‘detail’, every last individual Jew, as part of the entire Nation of Israel.

Whoever we are, and whatever silly labels we seem to affix each other with, we are all, in the end, one Mishkan. There was no reform, conservative, orthodox, ultra-Orthodox, or even Conservadox section in the Temple; we all just hung out in the courtyard together. And this too, is the message of this week’s portion.

Moshe chooses to bless all of the people together, because a Mishkan is only a Mishkan if we are all one in viewing and building that Mishkan.

This is why, perhaps, Moshe could no longer enter the Tent of Meeting at the end of the portion, because the Mishkan was never meant to be about one man; it was about all of us. In fact, the glory of Hashem that descends on this world is the common soul of the entire people when we are capable of seeing Hashem in every person, regardless of their views and beliefs.

Hence only the Kohen, the High priest, Aaron, could enter the Sanctuary’s Holy of Holies: because he represented peace- shalom, which comes from the root Shalem, whole. Aaron was the living embodiment, as was the Jewish institution of priesthood, of an entire people, completely whole with each other. Indeed, G-d communicates to Aaron through the letters of the names of the tribes on the breastplate. Because it is only through recognizing the value of all of the tribes of Israel that we succeed in bringing G-d into this world.

And incidentally, this is why verse 32 appears in its strange format: “And all the work of the Mishkan (Tabernacle)- the Tent of Meeting, was completed, and the children of Israel did all that Hashem had commanded them, so they did.”

The Mishkan was not completed because the work was done; it was completed because the Jewish people were able to do it together, and because they succeeded in keeping the passion of the dream, while embracing the power of each and every detail necessary to complete their work.

We have a lot of building to do these days. Most people think we need to build fences and bomb shelters; but in truth we need to build bridges; the kind of bridges that let us meet each other up close. Maybe this will be the year where we finally get it. But it can only start when each of us, building our own personal sanctuaries, taps into the beauty of our dreams, while embracing the value of every one of us; every last detail.

Shabbat Shalom.

The Yishai Fleisher Israel Podcast: Huckabee vs. Witkoff

SEASON 2025 EPISODE 12: Yishai and Malkah Fleisher discuss Yishai's visit to the Gaza periphery communities and lessons learned there. Then, Jake Bennett joins Yishai to compare the very different approaches of soon-to-be Ambassador Huckabee to Special Envoy Steve Witkoff. Plus, Ben Bresky on the life and Hebron burial of early Zionist rabbi Yehuda Bibas.

Wednesday, March 26, 2025

Accounting and the Torah

by Rabbi Pinchas Winston

It is interesting that accounting should be a part of Torah. Torah is the word of God, our instructions for living. It is so holy that if a Torah falls to the ground, God forbid, the congregation has to fast. It has seventy “faces” and four levels of Pardes built into it. What does accounting have to do with any of this?

Obviously, a person has to have good accounting practices just to make it through life. We need them just to be able to answer to our governments who demand to know what we’re making, what we’re spending, so they can know how much tax money they can take from us. Businesses live and die based upon their accounting practices.

There is a religious angle as well. Everything we have is a blessing from God, and we show our appreciation by caring about all of it. This means keeping track of what we have, so we can take care of and maintain it. How many times have we needed something, forgotten we already had it, and mistakenly bought a new one with money we could have used for something else we actually did need? How many times have we neglected something (or someone) only to regret it later when we needed it (or them)?

The Torah is the word of God, every last letter and punctuation. He dictated all of it to Moshe Rabbeinu. If accounting is important to the Torah, then it is important to God. As Rashi explains at the beginning of Sefer Bamidbar, God counts the Jewish people like a shepherd counts his sheep. People value money so much that they’re constantly counting it or checking their bank account.

This is why we’re also the only people to have been counted so precisely by another nation, who even had our numbers indelibly tattooed on our skin. The Nazi’s obviously did it out of cruelty and for their own records. But it was God Who had them do it unbeknownst to them, for His own purposes, as an act of love, tough love.

That’s a tough sell. It’s hard to convince people that an enemy’s hateful counting of prisoners is really just God’s counting of them out of love. They would rather God not “love” them at all, or at least not “so much.”

How can something so positive be manifested so negatively? The answer is, of course, kabbalistic. But the thing about Kabbalah is that it is becoming “easier” to understand as time goes on because of something as everyday basic as technology. Seeing how it works often provides insight into how the spiritual world works.

For example, take the Internet. There are many people who wish you would…to another universe altogether. Why would people want to get rid of something so useful as the Internet? The answer is obvious: abuse, a level of which has cost decent people so much good and, on some occasions, even their lives. Good technology in bad hands results in terrible evil.

This has been true ever since man ate from the Aitz HaDa’as Tov v’Ra, the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. Because Adam ate without God’s permission, he abused Creation and actualized evil for the first time in history. He accessed knowledge meant for good and ended up using it for bad, even though he had intended for the opposite.

It works similarly in relationships. Sometimes people love the wrong people, people not worthy of their love. Love is not blind, but it can be overly forgiving and choose to overlook warning signs of relationship failure. How many people have maintained abusive relationships for years out of a distorted sense of love? Good things in the wrong hands become wrong things.

Like the love of God for the Jewish people. God’s love is a spiritual energy that He shares with us to allow us to flourish as a nation. When we remain worthy of that love, it flows to us, and we are capable of great things, as individuals and as a nation. We feed off it whether we realize it or not.

If we don’t remain worthy of that love “energy,” it doesn’t necessarily stop flowing into Creation. Rather, it still comes down into the world, but like good technology in the hands of evil people, the energy is hijacked by the Klipos, the spiritual root of all evil in Creation. They are the antithesis of the Jewish People who threaten their existence, and when it is manifested in our enemies, human or otherwise, they use that same positive energy for an evil purpose. Rather than using that “love” for the benefit of Klal Yisroel, they use it to try to destroy us instead.

Thus, rather than be ingathered to Eretz Yisroel as promised, we were ingathered to concentration camps instead. Rather than choose unification by ignoring our differences, it was imposed upon us, and the differences were forcibly removed. And rather than be counted so that no Jew was left out or left behind, we were counted for the opposite reason.

Because both good and evil use the same energy to accomplish their goals. Who gets that energy and succeeds depends upon who accesses it first and, more importantly, when it “counts” the most. The accounting of the Mishkan makes that point because, as the Midrash points out, the gold and silver used for the golden calf instead became gold and silver used to make a House of God.

Pesach is fast coming, so order your new Haggadah Shel Pesach while there is still time to receive it before the Seder, b”H.

Web sites: www.thirytsix.org, www.shaarnunproductions.org, and now @ShaarnunProductionsInc (YouTube).

Good Shabbos,
​Pinchas Winston
​Thirtysix.org / Shaarnun Productions

The war over the soul of our nation

BS”D
Parashat Pekudai 5785
by HaRav Nachman Kahana


Medinat Yisrael will soon be 77 years young, and religious leaders are still debating the nature of our return to the holy land.

There are great rabbis who are confident, implicit and unwavering in their belief that the Medina is the platform on which the Mashiach will appear. Just count the miraculous victories of our army, and no less the miraculous economic boom that took survivors of the holocaust from the murder camps with only the shirt on their back and their children are CEOs of international companies residing on the 35th floor of a Tel Aviv skyscraper. The extraordinary accomplishments in all fields of endeavor and a very high place in the citizens’ satisfaction ladder within the nations.

At the same time there are equally great rabbis who are uncertain and ambivalent as to our link in the golden chain of Jewish history. And yet others who regard the advent of the Medina by mostly non-observant secular Jews (who cherished being Jewish and went to drain the malarial swamps of the Galil) as being illegitimate, and therefore beyond the possibility of rising above their unholy beginnings. Hence it is better to remain in galut until the time when HaShem will send us limousines to come home. Why do I mention limousines?

Once when visiting the States, I was on a subway train when two young Satmar Chassidic men sat next to me. We began talking and at one point I asked them when they would come to Eretz Yisrael. One answered, “when Hashem sends us limousines”. Our conversation came to an abrupt halt when I said that Chazal teaches that “techiyat hamaytim” (resurrection of the dead) will occur only in Eretz Yisrael, and the righteous in chutz la’aretz will have to make their way through tunnels to get to the land. So what kind of Chassidim are you when your rabbi has to undergo a harsh experience while you will be sitting in a stretch limo! They moved to another seat.

As stated above, there are Torah giants who interpret the events of the past 100 years as the beginning of the Messianic era, and those who do not relate any spiritual significance to the establishment of a Jewish Medina in Eretz Yisrael – and even those who condemn its establishment.

Who is right and who is wrong? At this juncture in our history, nothing less than a clear voice from heaven declaring “I am the Lord your God” will move anyone in each of the three camps to concede to the other’s point of view.

However, there is a fourth approach to the issue; the one I believe unites all the conflicting views.

We here are all in the same “boat”. Because while Eretz Yisrael is inherently kadosh (holy), the political Medinat Yisrael is a neutral entity where Hashem is giving us one more chance to establish a “Kohanic kingdom and holy nation” (Shemot 19,6).

The Medina has within it the greatest potential for sanctity. The land and the very air we breathe abound with kedusha. The Temple Mount, Yerushalayim, Me’arat Ha’Machpela down to the last fistful of soil at the end of the extremities of our borders are all imbued with kedusha. The people from over 100 different lands bring with them a heterogeneity reminiscent of the diversity of the twelve tribes – necessary to bring forth the multifaceted demands of a Torah nation.

In the past, HaShem gave the opportunity to King Chizkiyahu to be the Mashiach, but he faltered. Rabbi Akiva and the majority of rabbis in his day knew that HaShem had given Bar Kochba the opportunity to be the Mashiach, but Bar Kochba also faltered.

In our time, HaShem is giving us another opportunity to bring the final redemption. And as a mother who receives her newborn baby in her arms, the future of the Medina depends on how we relate to it; how we tend and care for it; how we educate our young and with how much zeal we defend it and are willing to die for it.

It is the inescapable duty of every Jew to endeavor to actualize the potential of the Medina to be a God-fearing Torah society in the spirit and words of the prophets. If we fail, then we and Jews the world over will pay dearly. There will not be another exile, but our lives will be filled with challenges.

On the one hand, there are here a small but vocal “eiruv rav” (mixed assembly of people), who has accompanied our people since the time of the Exodus and who wish to destroy any semblance of kedusha in the land. On the other hand, there are the most loyal sons and daughters this nation has ever seen. They learn and live Torah and embrace every centimeter of every hill and valley. They are the kippot srugot (knitted kipot) young men and long-skirted young women who are to be found in every positive aspect of society. They study Torah, settle and build the land, struggle and even die in the effort to convince HaShem that we are ready to establish the Third Jewish Commonwealth in Eretz Yisrael.

In between these two camps is the majority of traditional-minded Israelis together with the Chareidi parties, Chassidic groups, “Lithuanian” yeshivot, and whoever else sees themselves as being Chareidi who flounder without direction.

The Chareidim contribute somewhat to our life here, but they themselves harbor very little hope that the Medina can turn into an Am Kadosh. They can be compared to a father teaching his little child to walk, but the infant staggers and falls once or twice; and the father throws up his hands in hopelessness while muttering to himself that this child will never walk.

In this war over the soul of our nation, those who remain in chutz la’aretz will have almost zero impact on the outcome of HaShem’s great test. Nevertheless, they will be held accountable in the real world for not even taking part in bringing about the final geula for us and for the world.

I hope and pray that I see the day when a “kippa sruga” will sit together with a “shtreimel” wearer in a yeshiva, high atop a hillside overlooking Chevron or Shechem, arguing over the application of a Talmudic principle to the Israeli space station hovering over the planet, or religious scientists designing software applications for the Bet HaMikdash, or three Israeli generals reciting birkat ha’mazon after a working lunch where it was agreed upon to liberate the eastern side of the Jordan river.

It CAN and Will happen, but the timing depends on how much we love HaShem, the Torah, Eretz Yisrael and how much we love each other.

We have no option but to succeed in revealing the hidden sanctity in the inanimate stones of HaShem’s holy land and in the deep recesses of our Jewish souls.

In summary: The quantity and quality of HaShem’s assistance in advancing our uphill climb to the summit of the Jewish spiritual Mount Everest will be determined by the quantity and quality of Am Yisrael’s determination to create here a “Kohanic kingdom and holy nation”.

Shabbat Shalom,
Nachman Kahana
Copyright © 5785/2025 Nachman Kahana

Tuesday, March 25, 2025

Rabbi Ari Kahn on Parashat Pekudei: Building Trust (video)

Rav Doniel Glatstein on Parshas Pekudei: Why Didn't Moshe Give A Cheshbon What The Gold Was Used For? (video)

Rav Kook's Ein Ayah: Praying with the Heart, Not with the Mind

(condensed from Ein Ayah, Berachot 9:23)

Gemara: Is it so that praying for a long time is good? Doesn’t Rabbi Yochanan say that whoever prays for a long time and looks into it will ultimately come to heartache? …and doesn’t Rabbi Yitzchak say that three things bring up one’s sins: a leaning wall, looking into one’s prayer, and handing over to Hashem complaints against a person (relying on Hashem to punish him)? It depends if one just has a long prayer, which is good, or whether he also looks into it (Rashi – he reasons that since he prayed with strong concentration, Hashem will certainly do as he requested).

Ein Ayah: The ability of prayer to improve one’s material and spiritual wellbeing, as Hashem incorporated into nature, depends on one understanding clearly what prayer is.

A person should know that all his strengths and the circumstances that surround him are arranged with Divine wisdom. When a person feels upset due to personal or communal circumstances and his pure heart turns to Hashem in prayer, this helps his moral standing. He need not be concerned with the philosophical question of whether people’s prayers can cause a change in the Divine plan. In truth, that which can bring a person to completeness (i.e., prayer) is part of the all-encompassing Divine plan. Since a person’s soul flourishes when he feels Hashem’s closeness upon turning to Him, nature is set up so that such beseeching before Him will be fruitful.

A person should concentrate in his prayer just on the feeling of connecting emotionally to Hashem through the process. It should not include intellectual calculations of gain and loss or determining philosophical truths based on it. The power of prayer was created for the feelings of the soul, not the limited human intellect.

If one delves deeply into the expected results of his prayer, he will not receive the results he seeks but will experience great disappointment. Rather he should treasure the ability to turn to Him with a full and thirsting soul. Hashem did not create man just for his intellect, but also so that his heart would be most moved when praying to Hashem in a time of need.

It is crucial to save oneself from over-intellectualization of the experience of prayer, which stems from one’s desire to feel that he can capture Hashem’s providence within his intellect. However, Hashem is beyond that and wants to engage man by giving him life in the realm of the body and the emotions, as well. That is why one who spends a long time on his prayer, but does so in a manner of trying to analyze what will come of it, will experience heartache. If someone treats the power of prayer as a power of nature [which must succeed], he will not only lose the full experience but will come to false beliefs.

It is important for man to have faith in Hashem to keep his physical and spiritual state stable so that he not be shocked and overpowered by the physical world. He thereby learns that not everything that man thinks is good is indeed so, for everything in the world is guided by Hashem. He will also not be despondent when times are hard and foreboding, for nothing can prevent Hashem from bringing salvation. Faith is not intended to make a person lazy and inattentive to the efforts needed for the success of the individual or the group. Faith is certainly not intended to give a person the confidence to put himself in a position of danger. That is why one must not walk next to a leaning wall.

Divine judgment is a pillar of the world, but that is primarily to keep a man’s evil inclination in check. It is not something that a person should misuse for personal gain at the expense of another person. If he does so, it will not help but will pollute his soul and will cause his sins to be remembered.

The Completion of the Mishkan and of Creation

by HaRav Mordechai Greenberg
Nasi HaYeshiva, Kerem B'Yavneh


Chazal comment in Masechet Shabbat (87b):

"It was in the first month of the second year, on the first of the month, that the Mishkan was erected." (Shemot 40:17) It is taught, that day took ten crowns: first for Creation, first for the princes, first for priesthood, first for [the Mishkan] service, first for the descent of the fire...

All the "firsts" that are mentioned in the Gemara are connected to the beginning of the service of the Mishkan, except for "first for Creation," which seems to stand out from the rest of the list. What is the connection between the "first for Creation" to the dedication of the Mishkan?

In Megillah 10a it says that on the day that the Mishkan was erected, there was happiness before Hashem like the day that heaven and earth were created. Again, we need to ask, what is the connection between the dedication of the Mishkan and the creation of heaven and earth?

Furthermore, Chazal teach (Shabbat 119b) that whoever says "Vayechulu..." becomes a partner with G-d in Creation. How is it possible to become a partner in something that was completed so long ago?

"Hashem desired to have a dwelling in the lower regions [earth]." (Tanchuma Bechukotai) A desire is an ambition that one looks forward to its fulfillment, so what prevents Hashem from dwelling his Shechina in the lower regions if He so much desires it?

The answer to all of these questions lies in the pasuk that is written at the conclusion of Creation: "Thus the heaven and earth were completed ... which G-d created to do." (Bereishit 2:1-3) The creation was, indeed, finished but the doing - the perfecting, all the finishing touches - depend on us in the lower world. When Tornus Rufus showed wheat and pastry to R. Akiva and asked him whose deeds are greater - Hashem's or men's, R. Akiva answered that although Hashem created the world, it is up to us to perfect it. This is how R. Akiva explained circumcision to him. Hashem creates and we do – we perfect and add the finishing touches. (Tanchuma, Tazria 5) Hashem, indeed, desires a dwelling in the lower regions, but He expects us to build it for him.

This is the reason for the commandment: "They shall make Me a Sanctuary, and I will dwell amongst them." (Shemot 25:8) When Bnei Yisrael built the Mishkan, the purpose of the creation of heaven and earth was fulfilled. This is what the Ramban writes at the conclusion of Shemot, which ends with the Divine Presence in the Mishkan: "The book of redemption is completed in which Hashem, G-d of Israel, appeared to Bnei Yisrael - the nation that is closest to him."

This Mishkan was made by Betzalel, who knew how to join the letters with which the heaven and earth were created. The Midrash points to the parallel between what it says about Betzalel: "I filled him with wisdom, insight, and knowledge" (Shemot 31:3), and what it says about Creation: "Hashem founded the world with wisdom, established the heaven with insight, with his knowledge the depths were split." (Mishlei 3:19) In this way man becomes a partner in Creation, because the creation of heaven and earth is worthless without Presence of the Shechina through Am Yisrael.

This was the great joy of that first day. Indeed, "The first of the creation," belongs with the making of the Mishkan. Even though the making of heaven and earth were already completed, they still had not achieved their purpose until the Mishkan was constructed, thus making Am Yisrael partners in Creation.

There is still something deeper to all this. "Hashem desired" – because of his love for Am Yisrael! As feelings are reciprocal, Hashem also expects us to show our love to Him: "As the deer longs for brooks of water, so my soul longs for You, O G-d." (Tehillim 42:2) "In Your behalf, my heart has said, 'Seek My Presence.' Your Presence, Hashem do I seek." (Tehillim 27:8)

How is it possible to long for G-d who is separate, hidden and distant? It is because in the beginning there was love. "He blew into his nostrils the soul of life." (Bereishit 2:7) Chazal write (see Ramban there): "He who blows, blows of himself." They also write: "This is comparable to a princess who marries a townsman. Whatever he gives her does not satisfy her because she is a princess. Thus, the soul also is also from the upper regions, and this is what is says, "The soul cannot be satisfied." (Kohellet Rabbah 6) A person's soul is a part of the Divine G-d from above.

The world was also closely connected to G-d: "They heard the sound of Hashem G-d manifesting in the garden" (Bereishit 3:8), but after the sin the Shechina departed. Yet, in essence the Shechina still is associated with the world. Therefore, both a person and the world can return to the source and reconnect, and the pasuk: "I will place My Sanctuary in your midst ... I will walk amongst you" (Vayikra 26:11-12) will be fulfilled again.

When the longing of the Creation grows to the point that they build a Mishkan, then Hashem's desire will be fulfilled. "Thus the heaven and earth were completed" – "Moshe completed the work" – then, "The glory of Hashem filled the Mishkan."

We say in Adon Olam: "Master of the universe, who reigned before any form was created; at the time when His will brought all into being – then as 'King' was his name proclaimed. When all will end, He, alone, will rule Awesome."

We have here three stages:

1. Master of the universe, who reigned before any form was created.

2. When His will was fulfilled, then He was proclaimed as 'King' by the creation.

3. After everything ends - he will, one again, reign alone.

This process is puzzling. If, at the end, we return to the beginning - what need was there to go through it all in the first place? If the purpose is for Hashem to reign alone after everything, then what need was there for the Creation?

Rav Kook zt"l explains that "V'acharei kichlot hakol" does not mean "When all will end" - that everything will cease. Rather, it means that the souls of all the creation will long greatly for G-d, as it says, "Kalta nafshi – My soul longed for the courtyards of G-d." (Tehillim 84:3) "My flesh and heart long ... for the Eternal G-d." (73:26) This, indeed, is the perfection of heaven and earth. At the beginning Hashem reigned alone, and at the end the souls of all of the creation will long to become closer to G-d. This is the highest level and the purpose of creation, when the lower world will accept the yoke of His Reign willingly. Therefore, through the construction of the Mishkan, the Shechina returned through our actions and our desire for Hashem's nearness, thereby fulfilling the purpose of creation.

Rav Kook on Parashat Pekudei: Always on His Mind

Rav Chaim Ozer Grodzinski (1863-1940), the brilliant Lithuanian scholar and posek, was known to write scholarly Halachic correspondence while simultaneously conversing with a visitor on a totally different subject. When questioned how he accomplished this remarkable feat, Rav Grodzinski humbly replied that his talent was not so unusual.

“What, have you never heard of a businessman who mentally plans out his day while reciting the morning prayers?”

Constant Awareness
One of the eight special garments worn by the kohen gadol, the high priest, was the tzit. This was a gold plate worn across the forehead, engraved with the words kodesh le-Hashem — “Holy to God.”

The Torah instructs the kohen gadol that the tzitz “will be on his forehead – always” (Shemot 28:38). Chazal understood this requirement not as addressing where the head-plate is worn, but rather how it is worn. It is not enough for the tzitz to be physically on his forehead. It must be always “on his mind.” The kohen gadol must be constantly aware of the tzitz and its succinct message of “Holy to God” while serving in the Temple. His service requires conscious recognition of the purpose of his actions, without irrelevant thoughts and musings. He cannot be like the fellow whose mind was preoccupied with business matters while he mumbled his daily prayers. 

Tefillin and the Tzitz
The golden head-plate brings to mind another holy object worn above the forehead: tefillin. In fact, the Sages compared the two. Like the tzitz, wearing tefillin requires one to be always aware of their presence. The Gemara in Shabbat 12a makes the following a fortiori argument: If the tzitz, upon which God’s name is engraved just once, requires constant awareness, then certainly tefillin, containing scrolls in which God’s name is written many times, have the same requirement.

This logic, however, appears flawed. Did Chazal really mean to say that tefillin, worn by any Jew, are holier objects than the sacred head-plate worn only by the high priest when serving in the Temple?

Furthermore, why is it that God’s name is only recorded once on the tzitz, while appearing many times on the scrolls inside tefillin? 



Connecting to Our Goals
We may distinguish between two aspects of life: our ultimate goals, and the means by which we attain these goals. It is easy to lose sight of our true goals when we are preoccupied with the ways of achieving them.

Even those who are careful to “stay on track” may lack clarity as to the true purpose of life. Chazal provided a basic rule: “All of your deeds should be for the sake of Heaven”(Avot 2:12). However, knowledge of what God wants us to do in every situation is by no means obvious. Success in discovering the highest goal, in comprehending our purpose in life, and being able to relate all of life’s activities to this central goal — all depend on our wisdom and insight.

For the kohen gadol, everything should relate to the central theme of “Holy to God.” We expect that the individual suitable for such a high office will have attained the level of enlightenment where all of life’s activities revolve around a single ultimate goal. Therefore the tzitzmentions God’s name just once — a single crowning value. Most people, however, do not live on this level of enlightened holiness. We have numerous spiritual goals, such as performing acts of kindness, charity, Torah study, prayer, and acquiring wisdom. By relating our actions to these values, we elevate ourselves and sanctify our lives. For this reason, the scrolls inside tefillin mention God’s name many times, reflecting the various spiritual goals that guide us.

In order to keep life’s ultimate goals in sight, we need concrete reminders. The tzitz and tefillin, both worn on the forehead above the eyes, are meant to help us attain this state of mindfulness.

Now we may understand the logic of comparing these two holy objects. Even the kohen gadol, despite his broad spiritual insight, needed to be constantly aware of the tzitz on his forehead and its fundamental message of kodesh le-Hashem. All the more so an average person, with a variety of goals, must remain conscious of the spiritual message of his tefillin at all times.

(The Splendor of Tefillin. Adapted from Ein Eyah vol. III, p. 26 by Rav Chanan Morrison)

Accounting Practices

by Rabbi Dov Berel Wein

The basic lesson in this week's Torah reading is accountability. God demands from Moshe and the others who formulated and created the Tabernacle in the desert, to account for all the material that was donated by the Jewish people for that purpose. The last piece of silver that was donated had to be accounted for, but Moshe was distressed that he could not account for 1000 measures of the silver. He finally remembered that this donation of silver was used for constructing hooks that bound the tapestries of the Tabernacle together.

The hooks must" shout" to remind us of their presence, and to make Moshe's accounting complete and accurate. Accounting is a very painstaking project. Most people view it as bordering on boring. Nevertheless, there is no commercial enterprise that can successfully exist without good and accurate accounting practices.

The financial accounting in our Parsha regarding the materials that were used in the construction of the Tabernacle is a template for proper human behavior concerning the use of resources in all areas of life. This is especially true in matters that border on religious institutions that are held to the highest of all standards and are to be above any suspicion of corruption. The Priest of the Temple wore garments that had no pockets and could not conceal any hidden items of value that might be removed from the Temple.

This overriding meticulous standard and value of accountability is not limited to financial matters. Judaism teaches us that we are all accountable for our actions - behavior, speech, attitudes and even thoughts. We were created as being responsible creatures – responsible to the creator and to the other creatures that exist with us on this planet. We are given talents that are unique to each one of us. The challenge that is put before us is how those talents and abilities can be used for good and noble causes.

There are many who think that the gifts that they have been given are for their exclusive use, and that there is no need or obligation to share them with others. They are sadly mistaken in this view. People are accountable for what they have, as they were for the supposedly insignificant amount of silver that was used to construct hooks that kept the tapestries together.

King Solomon states in Kohelet that one should realize that all actions and behavior will eventually be weighed on the scales of heavenly justice. We live in a time when accountability, to a great extent, has been replaced by excuses, social engineering, economic and psychological theories. All of these are used only to avoid the issue of accountability. To be human is to be responsible, and that is the message not only of this week's Parsha, but of everything in Judaism.

Monday, March 24, 2025

Syria: Terrorists in Suits and Ties: Syria: Terrorists in Suits and Ties

by Lawrence A. Franklin
  • [Ahmed] Al-Sharaa, on taking power in Syria in December, originally professed to be a "moderate." The Biden administration even lifted a $10 million bounty for his arrest, for previous terrorist activity linked to Al Qaeda, presumably in the hope of moderation actually being delivered. Since that time, however, al-Sharaa and his followers have appeared more as terrorists in suits and ties.
  • The country's new constitution, published on March 14, stipulates that Islamic Sharia jurisprudence is the sole source of judicial decision-making. This constitution also asserts that Syria's president must be a Muslim and that the executive branch has almost dictatorial powers. Moreover, the constitution includes no provision for protecting Syrian ethnic or religious minorities, which include Christians, Alawites, Kurds and Druze.
  • Sunni jihadist government forces are reportedly reveling in the massacre of the Alawites, and Turkey has already set up secret cells throughout Syria "to use as proxies abroad." Christians throughout Syria are afraid that after the Alawites, they will be next. It is also possible that al-Sharaa's HTS will be successful in uniting most of Syria under its control, then initiate a genocidal purge against Christians and the rest of the "infidels."
  • Some of Syria's minorities have been seeking help from nearby Israel. Some Druze community leaders even asked Israel officially to annex their villages. Israel has established a strategic "buffer zone" in areas of Syria adjacent to the countries' shared border, to deter potential jihadist and Turkish attacks, and may yet again turn out to be threatened minorities' greatest protector.

From March 6-9 – unchecked by Ahmed al-Sharaa's professedly "moderate" interim government – his jihadist troops slaughtered an estimated 1,080 Syrians in 72 hours, apparently mostly civilian members of the minority Alawite religion. Pictured: Jihadists loyal to al-Sharaa celebrate on a beach in Latakia on March 9, 2025, following the massacre in the city. (Photo by Omar Haj Kadour/AFP via Getty Images)

In December 2024, after an offensive lasting less than two weeks that swept through much of Syria, a Turkish-backed Sunni militia led by Ahmed al-Sharaa ousted the Assad regime, which had ruled the country for 54 years.

From March 6-9 – unchecked by al-Sharaa's professedly "moderate" interim government – his jihadist troops slaughtered an estimated 1,080 Syrians in 72 hours, apparently mostly civilian members of the minority Alawite religion. The Alawite sect, which split off from Shia Islam in the ninth century, is regarded by other Shiites as heretical. To people who practice Sunni Islam -- the religion of al-Sharaa and Turkey -- all non-Sunnis are infidels. Alawites are estimated to be up to 10% of Syria's population, and the deposed Assad family belong to the sect.

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Friday, March 21, 2025

Rav Kook's Ein Ayah: The Intersection of the Intellect and Emotion

(based on Ein Ayah, Berachot 1:136)

Gemara: “Who is like the wise, and who knows the pesher (literally, the deeper understanding, but here, compromise) of the matter?” (Kohelet 8:1). Who is like Hashem Who knows how to make a compromise between two tzaddikim, Chizkiyah (the king) and Yeshaya (the prophet)? Chizkiya said: “Yeshaya should come to me, as we have found that Eliyahu went before Achav …” Yeshaya said: “Chizkiya should come to me, for we have found that Yehoram the son of Achav came before Elisha…” What did Hashem do? He brought afflictions onto Chizkiya and said to Yeshaya to go visit the sick.

Ein Ayah: The power of prophecy that Hashem bestowed upon Israel during its era had the goal of fulfilling the eternal needs of the nation. It was meant to make eternal spiritual life attainable and to teach the ways of life to be used to obtain constant existence, so that its spirit would last forever and merit eternal national existence.

The power of the monarchy was to strengthen Israel’s national life in the present. Realize that there are ways of leading that add power to the nation in the short term but detract from its future prospects. Similarly, there are many things that weaken the nation in the short term but provide power and resolve in the future.

Following an extreme is always difficult and dangerous. If the nation is concerned only with future success and pays no attention to present needs, marauders will come to plunder and kill in a way that will endanger the people’s spiritual status and their hopes for eternal existence. On the other hand, the destruction can be immense if the heart of the nation is seduced to place its concerns only on short term life and strength. In so doing, they will trip and fall after a generation.

Hashem, Who guards Israel, regularly arranges factors that cause a balance between the power of the immediate and the future survival so that the nation does not trip in its path and will survive for many generations into the future. “As the new heavens and the new land stand before Me, so too will your offspring and your name stand” (Yeshaya 66:22).

Therefore, Yeshaya was concerned that if he gave precedence to the power of the monarchy [by going to Chizkiya], the nation’s spirit might fall and forget their efforts for eternity. Chizkiya was concerned that if the nation would see the power of the kingdom as weak in relation to that of prophecy, they would lose political strength. This could cause bad outcomes for their moral status, even in regard to Torah, fear of Hashem, and good middot, which the king’s power supported.

Hashem made a compromise between them. The eye of providence saw that according to the status of Israel at that time, they needed an exactly equal balance between the concerns. The public perception had to be that the kingdom had ultimate power and strength of the nationhood. Yet, those seeing the inner situation would see the king surrendering his temporary leadership for the welfare of prophetic eternity. This was Hashem’s compromise. Chizkiya was afflicted; Yeshaya went to visit the ill. Openly, the king was primary, for Yeshaya went to him. Internally, it was the king who suffered. This showed that sometimes, the immediate outlook of national strength has to cede when it rivals the eternal goals. From the external perspective of sensual desires, people need to be held in check by a powerful [righteous] kingdom. However, internally, regarding one’s intellect and desires for sanctity, he needs to be lead by a more gentle dominion, which shows the positive path, and out of love choose the path of good [represented by prophecy]. This is along the lines of the Rambam (Melachim 2:5) that although, externally, the king should have an advantage over a prophet, Yehoshafat privately would rise from his chair to honor talmidei chachamim.

The Middle Crossbar - Uniting the Jewish People

by HaRav Dov Begon
Rosh HaYeshiva, Machon Meir

“The middle crossbar was made to go through the center of the beams, from one end to the other” (Shemot 36:33). It was the middle crossbar that linked together the Tabernacle beams from one end to the other, while the other four crossbars linked together only portions of the beams. The middle crossbar ran within the beams and could not be seen from the outside, while the other crossbars could be seen from the outside. This situation serves to allude that the very ‘thing’ that serves to unite the Jewish People ‘from one end to the other’ is - like the middle crossbar - precisely something that is hidden away in the ‘interior’ of the precious soul of the Jewish People; this ‘thing’ is concealed within the whole nation down through the generations, and within every individual Jew, whoever he or she may be.

In these challenging times, we must strengthen that which has united all the parts of the nation throughout the generations. That same ‘middle crossbar’ that has extended from one end to the other, from our inception as a people until the end of days. It has united all the tribes of Israel from East to West, gathering together in Eretz Yisrael, and all the open and hidden social streams. What has united all the Jews, is the fact that we all possess one precious soul, and that we are a people chosen by G-d to perfect the world under the reign of the Almighty. As G-d long ago said to the father of our nation, Avraham: “I will make you into a great nation... You shall become a blessing... All the families of the earth will be blessed through you” (Beresheet 12:2-3).

To strengthen ‘middle crossbar’ that unites us, we must remember that Israel were counted in the desert by means of the half-shekel contribution. The Torah here is teaching us that it makes a difference whether you measure each person individually or as part of a group. Each individual alone is metaphorically called a “gulgolet,” literally a skull (see Shemot 38:26), which is known to symbolize death. When a person is not connected to the larger community, he is like a limb torn away from the body, a dead limb - and then the evil eye takes control of him.

Yet, through the half-shekel contribution, a general fund is created of the whole Jewish People together, with each donor being linked to the larger group, as one man with one heart, each member of the group having worth and importance. Under such circumstances, the good eye takes control and then there is nothing to fear from counting the people of Israel. They are then like limbs connected to the body, all sharing one soul, and the census, now counting a collective, itself attains holiness.

The middle crossbar is the root of all the nation’s branches, and, like the branches on the tree - which all imbibe their sustenance from the root - we too must drink deeply from our roots. Let us unite all the branches and strengthen them.

Besorot Tovot,
Looking forward to complete salvation,
With the Love of Am Yisrael and Eretz Yisrael,
Shabbat Shalom.

What were the Jews thinking and how were they feeling the morning after Yom Kippur?

by Rav Binny Freedman

A number of years ago at a parlor meeting of the coalition for the Israeli Soldiers missing in action, someone stood up to share a few words about a close friend of his with whom he had both studied and gone to war: Yehuda Katz.

Yehuda Katz, a soldier who, along with Zack Baumel and Tzvi Feldman, has been missing in action since the battle of Sultan Yaakov in June of 1982, studied in Yeshivat Kerem Be’Yavneh and has been missing now for over twenty years.

At the beginning of the Lebanon War on the first Sunday night in June of 1982, they received word in the Yeshiva that buses would be coming to take the boys up North to fight. Kerem Be’Yavneh is one of a number of very special Yeshivot (Academies for higher Jewish learning) whose boys combine their yeshiva studies with army service in Israeli Combat units. In addition to their regular reserve duty and studies in yeshiva, whenever the army is in a tight spot, this is naturally one of the first places to receive an emergency call-up; where else can you gather together an entire reserve battalion at a moment’s notice?

The boys were given only half an hour to get their gear together and be on the buses, time was of the essence as this was an elite tank unit whose services were desperately needed on the front lines.

As they were rushing to get back to the buses with their kits, Yehuda told one of his buddies to make sure the bus didn’t leave without him as he had to run to the bathroom.

A few moments later with everyone accounted for and the bus engines idling, they were still waiting for Yehuda Katz to get back from the bathroom. After a few more minutes one of the men decided to go looking for him; it was out of character for him to keep everyone waiting for so long, and especially considering where they were headed, they couldn’t imagine what was keeping him.

As his friend approached the men’s room, he saw Yehuda Katz coming out of the Beit Midrash (the study hall) and break into a run. Not understanding why Yehuda had a made a detour to the Beit Midrash when they were so pressed for time, Yehuda explained he had gone into the Beit Midrash to learn a few minutes worth of Torah, because as a Jewish soldier in a Jewish army going off to fight a war in defense of the Jewish people, “you don’t go to war from the bathroom.”

I have often wondered what it was that Yehuda chose to study for those brief moments in the Beit Midrash, and please G-d look forward to being able to ask him one day when he at long last comes home. But the thing that most challenges me about this story, is how, on the brink of war, in the midst of heading off to battle, and with all the thoughts that I unfortunately know rage through your mind and your soul at such a time, Yehuda Katz was able to turn it all off and sit down to learn five minutes of Torah?

This week’s portion, Va’Yakhel, begins with a moment of pure potential:

“Va’Yakhel Moshe Et Kol Adat B’nei Yisrael, Va’Yomer Aleihem:”
“And Moshe gathered together the entire congregation of Israel and said to them:” (Shemot 35:1)

Rashi points out that this day was the day after Yom Kippur, when Moshe came down with the second Tablets, the Luchot Ha’Brit, signifying that the Jewish people had been forgiven (or at least their sentence had been commuted) following the transgression of the Golden Calf.

Moshe had first gone up on Mount Sinai on the seventh day of Sivan, only to return forty days later on the seventeenth day of Tammuz to discover his people dancing with idolatry (the Golden Calf). He went up again, for an additional forty days coming down on Rosh Chodesh (the beginning of the month of) Elul, having achieved forgiveness. But that just meant they had gotten back to where they had been before the experience of Sinai. Now they had to re-commit to receiving the Torah all over again, this time with tablets fashioned by man, and not by G-d (34:4). So Moshe went up yet a third time, again for forty days, finally coming back down to the people on Yom Kippur with the two new tablets (Luchot) of stone, (containing the ten commandments) signifying Hashem’s forgiveness of the Jewish people, and allowing them to start over again.

Moshe however was a very wise leader; just because G-d had forgiven the Jewish people did not necessarily mean they had forgiven themselves. What were the Jews thinking and how were they feeling the morning after Yom Kippur? They had barely seen Moshe in the last three months, and it was entirely their fault. G-d had basically decreed that the consequences of this transgression (the sin of the Golden Calf) would be suffered by the Jewish people for thousands of years (32:34), and one wonders how the Jews must have felt, now that the immediate danger of annihilation was past, and the enormity of their mistake had begun to sink in.

So Moshe, a true leader, rises to the challenge of the moment, and gathers the entire people together with, it would seem, the goal of inspiring them to pick up the pieces and begin again.

I recall, years ago, during what has become known as the first Intifada, a particularly hairy day, when one of our patrols got into some serious trouble. We were stationed near Jebalya, a nasty piece of real estate in the Gaza strip, home to approximately 120,000 Arab refugees, and in the spring of 88’ things were really heating up. We didn’t have enough officers and men to handle the load, so we were working with additional units, and an urgent radio call came in from one of these neighboring patrols who were apparently surrounded by hundreds of rioters with rocks and Molotov cocktails and found themselves hemmed in an alleyway with nowhere to retreat and not enough ammunition.

I couldn’t understand where this huge riot had sprung up from, as I had just finished a patrol in the same area and had even passed the cross- street he described on patrol less than half an hour earlier, but there was no time to think about it.

Standard operating procedure in such situations was to muster up as many vehicles as were available, as quickly as possible and offer the rioters both a second ‘front’ (or contact point) with which to contend, as well as an easy and natural avenue of retreat. A few well-thrown tear gas grenades (which were basically harmless in the long term) would usually suffice to cause an entire riot to begin dispersing in the direction of the avenue they had open to them. Our company commander (I was a lieutenant at the time) sent us in different strategic directions so we would all arrive at the right places at the right time. Only when we got there, there was no riot… and no Israeli patrol.

It took us over half an hour, which for those eight men caught between a rock and a hard place was a very long time, to finally figure out where this patrol actually was. And it transpired that this entire mess had occurred because this new officer had at one point taken a left turn instead of a right one, and was in a completely different area from where he thought he was. In fact, he had led his patrol into an area we were not even supposed to be venturing into, as it was a hot spot far enough away from the main road that it wasn’t part of our mission (which was to keep the road open to civilian traffic).

In the process of this frantic search, not only the battalion, but the brigade level got involved, and by the time we finally arrived, expecting a huge fight and worse, the rioters took one look at all the vehicles roaring down the streets, and dispersed entirely before we even reached the alleyway.

I still remember our battalion commander, Rami, who understood the value of an officer learning from his mistakes rather than being broken by them, taking the young second lieutenant aside for a quick de-briefing.

The young officer was obviously pretty shaken; he and any number of his men could have been injured or worse, and an entire brigade had just spent the better part of an hour diverting valuable manpower and equipment all because he had made a wrong turn. All I caught were the first words Rami said as he walked him off to the side: “Well, we needed a good exercise for the men, so I’m glad you found an original way to set one in motion….”


That sentence carried more lessons in commanding men, and for that matter counseling life, than many entire books I have read on the subject. And this was Moshe’s challenge: how, now that the Jewish people had been made to realize the error of their ways, and the guilty had suffered the necessary consequences, to find the right words that would offer the Jewish people a sense of comfort, hope, and even inspiration after the trying events of the past few months.

Which makes the message Moshe actually shared with the Jewish people so puzzling. We might have expected him to tell the Jewish people that they were on their way to the land of Israel, or even, as he begins to do subsequently (35:4), to review the mitzvoth concerning the Jewish people’s mission to build the Mishkan, meant to be a resting place for the Divine presence which, at least according to Rashi, represented some level of atonement for the debacle of the Golden Calf.

Instead, inexplicably, Moshe shares with them a most unlikely mitzvah: Shabbat.

“These are the words Hashem has commanded to do: Six days shall you labor, and the seventh day shall be holy for you, a day of complete rest for G-d; whomsoever shall do work on it shall die. You shall not kindle fire in all your dwellings on the Sabbath day.” (35:1-3)

What does Shabbat have to do with Moshe’s desire to comfort the Jewish people after their terrible error in building a golden calf? And, if, for whatever the reason Shabbat is the right topic to mention here, why does Moshe feel it necessary to warn them that the penalty for its transgression is death? After all, Moshe is trying to comfort the Jewish people after narrowly avoiding imminent destruction, so how is the promise of a death penalty any form of comfort? And what does the prohibition against fire (and labor in general) have to do with all this?

If the Torah is going to remind the Jewish people of Shabbat, a mitzvah already given them at Marah (16:25-27; 30) as well as in the Ten Commandments (20:8-11), why not share with them the beauty and peace of the Sabbath day? Why present the prohibitions and the penalties here? And what does all this have to do with the Golden Calf?

In order to understand this, we need to take a closer look both at the sin of the Golden Calf, and the concept of sin in general, as well as the true purpose of Shabbat.

What was the Golden Calf all about? The Jewish people, at the foot of Mount Sinai, not six weeks after hearing the Ten Commandments which include a specific injunction not to worship idols, forget the words they heard from G-d Himself and believe that a calf of molten gold is their true god? The Jewish people come to Aaron, struggling with what they perceive to be a new reality: Moshe, who has ‘brought them up out of Egypt’ (32:1) is gone, and they are obviously looking for a substitute.

So, Aaron throws their gold into the fire and fashions it into a golden calf, and they say: “This is your god O’ Israel, which brought you up from the land of Egypt.” (32:4)

It is hard to imagine the Jewish people believing that a calf of gold they have just seen fashioned in the fire is the One who brought them out of Egypt; after all, they witnessed the ten plagues and the splitting of the sea! It is worth noting that this phrase corresponds directly to their description of Moshe (in verse 1) who also is described as having brought them out of Egypt, despite the fact that Moshe is clearly known to be a messenger of G-d, and takes great pains to ensure that this is indeed the viewpoint of the people.

Obviously, then, what the people are looking for is not to replace G-d, but rather a substitute vehicle in relating to G-d. Indeed, when G-d speaks directly to the people in the first two commandments, the people are overwhelmed and beg Moshe to speak the word of G-d instead. (20:16) The problem the people have is not that they forgot G-d exists, rather, they are so aware of G-d’s existence, they aren’t sure what to do with it. How do you maintain a relationship with something so intangible as G-d?

Indeed, this is exactly how Rambam, in the beginning of his Hilchot Avodah Zarah, explains the gradual process whereby believers in One G-d, sink into the morass of idolatry. It begins with the attempt to find tangible objects of G-d’s creation with which to maintain a relationship with G-d. And eventually, the original goal of maintaining a relationship with G-d is forgotten and all that remains are the tangible objects, which have been so deified they end up taking G-d’s place.

Essentially, the Jewish people are struggling to find a way of bringing G-d into the physical world, and that’s good; in fact, that is our purpose here on this earth; they are just going about it in a way that negates Hashem’s will; they are using the very molten image G-d has warned them against in the first place.

Their desire to bring G-d into the world is good, but in choosing the path that is not Hashem’s desire they inevitably distance themselves from Hashem’s will, and that was their tragic mistake.

How often do we have goals that are so noble and so pure, and yet get lost along the way when the means by which we attempt to attain those goals are not nearly as noble as the goals themselves? And one day, we wake up and take a look around and can’t quite figure out how something that started so right became so wrong. And the way in which we realize it really is all wrong, is because it becomes abundantly clear that we have somehow strayed off the path that Hashem (G-d) really wanted us on; we have substituted, on some level, His will for ours.

And this is where the lesson of this week’s portion becomes so crucial, because so many people live with incredible amounts of guilt, over all the decisions that caused them to be headed in the wrong direction. ‘If only I could have done it differently’, is a refrain heard often amidst painful regrets of past misdeeds and mistaken courses of actions.

In truth, however, this is not at all what Judaism teaches.

Think about it: do we really have the ability to change G-d’s will? Can we look back at anything that has ever happened in this world and say that it was not the will of G-d? How could anything ever be against the will of G-d? By definition, if something transpires, it must be the will of G-d (though of course this does not mean we can necessarily understand the will of G-d), which is why it occurs in the first place.

In Judaism when we look back at the mistakes or sins we have committed, they are not about what we have done, they are about what we wanted to do. Transgressions are not about the actions we have done wrong, because in reality whatever happens is always what Hashem meant to happen. Rather our mistakes are about the desire to do what we perceive to be against Hashem’s will.

For example, when Adam and Chava eat from the Eitz Hadaat, which Hashem told them not to eat from, Hashem knew they would eat from the tree (because G-d, by definition has to know everything), and thus all of history was based on the events that unfolded as a result of their eating of the tree. Ultimately, had they waited, they would have eventually been given from that tree by G-d. Their mistake, however, was that they wanted to do something which they perceived to be against the will of G-d. And ultimately, all Hashem wants of us, and all we are here in this world to achieve, is to make his desire ours. “Aseh Re’tzono Re’tzoncha” “Make His will yours”, says the Talmud.

Which is why the first component of Teshuva (mistakenly translated as repentance, but really from the root ‘Shuv’, to return, and all about trying to get back to where I once was.) is charata: regret.

Maimonides clearly points out in his Hilchot Teshuva that the first stage of Teshuva is to regret my desire to do something different from that which Hashem wants me to be doing. Once I have succeeded in changing my desire, once I no longer want to sin, then I have achieved atonement, because I am a completely different person. And once my desire changes then there is nothing left but the reality that always was, and which was always good.

Now, imagine how different life would be for so many people, if we could all just tap into this idea. I have met people living with anger or pain or guilt for decades over things they have done that they can’t even speak about. But if this world is really an illusion and anything I have ever done wrong was ultimately the will of Hashem and serves Hashem’s purpose just as much as all of the things that I have done right, then all that really matters is where I am at right now, in this moment.

And if I truly desire only what Hashem desires, then nothing I have done is wrong anymore, because the only thing that was really wrong about anything in the first place was the desire of people to try and do something Hashem doesn’t want them to be doing, but whatever happened, happened as it was meant to. So now that my desire is as it should be, all that’s left are the actions, which are always good.

So how does one access this idea? How do we tap into the reality of everything as the will of Hashem, and let go of the illusion that what I do (as opposed to my desire to do) is what is real in this world?

That, finally, is the secret of Shabbat. On Shabbat, I get a taste of the world to come, because after six days of work and labor where I do so much to be in partnership with G-d, I take a day to consider what that is all about. And I manage, if only in a small way, to let go of the illusion that this world is what is real. On Shabbat we try to access what Hashem really wants of us, and why we were put here in the first place, and we get back in touch with the reality that it’s all good, and that whatever happens is ultimately all part of Hashem’s plan.

And if everything is part of Hashem’s plan, then the consequences, however painful, are also good, if we only we could see that reality.

Which is why on Shabbat we don’t light fires, which are representative (along with all the categories of labor we desist from on Shabbat) of what we do in this world. According to the Midrash, fire was the first thing we created, and it thus represents our creative abilities, and our partnership with G-d in creating the world. And I let go of that on Shabbat, because on Shabbat I realize that everything I am creating is really G-d, I am just a tool, and my only challenge is to make myself a willing tool.

And this is why if we violate Shabbat we die, because if we do not understand the message of Shabbat, then we are not really living life, because if life is all about what we want without taking into account what Hashem wants, then life is really death.

Indeed, Rav Avigdor Nevehnsahl, in his Sichot Le’Sefer Shemot, points out that this is the understanding of the Midrash (Bereisheet Rabbah on Bereisheet 4:16) that when Adam heard of Cain’s success in doing Teshuva, he clapped his hands to his face, realizing he too could have done Teshuva, and then immediately, he composes a Tehilim for The Sabbath day. What does Teshuva have to do with Shabbat? Adam understood that the essence of Shabbat was in seeing everything as part of the wondrous and continuously unfolding plan of G-d.

This, then, is the reason Moshe begins here in our portion with Shabbat. The Jewish people, struggling with the immense tragedy of their mistake (the Golden Calf) are stuck in the world of ‘Oh, What might have been…” And Moshe here is reminding them that while looking forward we are supposed to imagine it is all up to us, nonetheless when reflecting on events passed, everything is ultimately in G-d’s hands, and part of that master plan….

Indeed, this leads to the challenge of learning to live in the moment, which is what Shabbat is also all about. So often, we are so busy trying to get somewhere, we don’t realize where we already are. And the ability to really see things as they are and let go of where we think things should be going, is also what Shabbat is all about. Because if Hashem runs the world, and what is crucial is tapping into what Hashem wants of me now, in this moment, then that is also the essence of Shabbat: we let go of where we are trying to get to, and slow down to appreciate where we are right now, here, in this moment.

And this is the secret to letting go of the guilt about past mistakes: they were never really mistakes, and Shabbat teaches me, and better, allows me to experience, that Hashem doesn’t waste our time with where we were, He just wants to know we are here now.

Shabbat Shalom.