Parsha with Rabbi David Bibi

What do two identical goats — one brought to the Holy ofHolies, the other cast into the wilderness — reveal about the deepest secret ofteshuvah?  Join us to discover how Yom Kippur teaches us to climbfrom fear to love, and even transform sins into merits.   LeZecher Nishmat my grandfather who passed away as we entered Yom Kippur, David Gindi HaKohen Ben Sarina and his great great grandson, Shimon Chai Ben Moriyah Bracha Devora 

 36 Hours Before Rosh HaShanah - The King is here. Hashem is knocking. Don’t miss the moment. Join us for “The Elevator Up – Answering the Knock Before the Gates Close.”    Let me share a story that Rabbi Elimelech Biderman bringsdown, one that hits straight to the heart.     The Krasna Rav tells a story which brings these words ofRashi alive.     There was a boy in Bnei Brak losing his eyesight. Hiscondition was deteriorating rapidly. The best doctors in Israel shook theirheads: nothing more we can do.     

Why do the Righteous suffer and the Wicked prosper - from Moshe’s glimpse of the tefillin’s knot to Rabbi Akiva’s vision of the crown — and discover how to enter Rosh HaShanah seeing every decree as הטוב והמטיב. Based on Rav Pinchas Friedman, The Shvilei Pinchas .... As we mention, this is a re-recording of the Seuda Shelishi Class - A dear friend who attended the class wrote and I am humbled by his words: I want to tell you how truly grateful I am. You are not just my rabbi — you are my David. The Devar Torah you gave on tefillin wiped me out; I had no idea about the concept of the strap of chesed and It pains me that I wasn’t taught this long long ago. It’s a real loss that so many yeshivot don’t teach students the deep, inner meaning of tefillin. Thank you for opening my eyes and my heart.  רצון שתמשיך להאיר את דרכנו בתורתך הקדושה בכבוד רב ובתודה גדולה

Today’s shiur, inspired by Rabbi Yissocher Frand, dives into Moshe Rabbeinu’s final charge in Parashat Nitsavim: “וּבָחַרְתָּ בַּחַיִּים” — “And you shall choose life.” What does it mean that HaShem not only gives us the choice but tells us which path to take? And how is that lifnim mishurat ha-din — above and beyond the letter of the law? As we approach Rosh HaShanah, we’ll uncover the Torah’s most encouraging secret: that a single, sincere choice can reshape our entire judgment, counted in Heaven as if it were already done.  

As Moshe gathers every Jew — leaders and laborers, children and converts — he reminds us that נִצָּבִים is not passive standing, but purposeful positioning: a charge renewed each Rosh HaShanah for every generation.

 Ki Tavo – Rav Avraham Pam and The Gift of Time     This week’s parashah, Ki Tavo, begins with the mitzvah ofbikkurim—bringing the first fruits to Yerushalayim. The farmer didn’t justdeliver the fruits. He made a declaration, retelling the story of our people:“Arami oved avi”—from Lavan chasing Ya‘akov, to the slavery in Mitzrayim, toHashem redeeming us with a mighty hand.     Why? Because gratitude is not just giving—it’sremembering. We don’t only thank Hashem for the fruit; we thank Him for ourhistory, for those who came before us, for the gift of time itself.     And that brings me to a story.     Rabbi Yaakov Moskowitz once shared a remarkable story heheard directly from Rabbi Ya’akov Mills, the rabbi of Young Israel of Memphis.Rabbi Mills had learned in Yeshivat Chofetz Chaim in Queens before hismarriage. Every Shabbat, he and a few fellow students would travel to Brooklynto staff a group home for men with special needs. During the week they hadnurses and aides; on Shabbat, these bochurim became their companions—bringingthem to shul, singing zemirot, and sharing meals.     In that home was a man named Baruch. He was about seventyyears old, with developmental disabilities, but very much part of the Shabbattable. One Friday night, Baruch asked if he could share a devar Torah. Ofcourse, they encouraged him. He stood up, spoke some words about theparashah—not very coherent, but heartfelt. Everyone applauded: “Yasher koach,Baruch!”     And Baruch smiled and said, “I’m so glad you liked it.You know… Rav Pam also liked my devar Torah.”     At first, they thought it was just his imagination. Weekafter week he would repeat the pattern—say a few words, get cheered, theninsist, “Rav Pam also liked it.” They assumed he had once seen Rav Avraham Pam,the Rosh Yeshiva of Torah Vodaas, maybe even shook his hand, and in his mind,Rav Pam “liked” his Torah.     But Rabbi Mills was curious. One week he arrived early onFriday afternoon. And to his shock, he saw Baruch holding the phone, deliveringhis devar Torah. Rabbi Mills tiptoed upstairs, picked up the extension, andlistened. He heard Baruch conclude—and then he heard a warm, gentle voicerespond:     “Baruch, that was such a beautiful devar Torah. Thank youso much for sharing it with me.”     It was the unmistakable voice of the gadol hador, RavAvraham Pam, zikhrono livrakhah.     Rabbi Mills later investigated. He discovered thatBaruch’s family had once davened in Rav Pam’s shul. And for thirty years—everysingle Friday afternoon—Rav Pam had picked up the phone, listened to Baruch’sdevar Torah, and encouraged him.     Think about that. Thirty years. On Erev Shabbat, when theRosh Yeshiva of Torah Vodaas—shouldering the worries of the Jewish people—had athousand demands on his time. He still made time for one lonely Jew.     That is bikkurim. Hashem gives us the gift of time, andthe question is: what do we give back?     Sometimes we say, “I’m too busy.” But if Rav Pam couldcarry the burdens of Klal Yisrael and still make time, can we not give a fewminutes to lift someone’s spirits, to call a friend, to listen to a child, tobe present for another Jew?     And when we do, we fulfill the blessing in this week’sparashah:     “וְשָׂמַחְתָּ בְּכָל־הַטּוֹב אֲשֶׁר נָתַן לְךָ ה׳ אֱלֹקֶיךָוּלְבֵיתֶךָ”  —“Then you will rejoice in all the good that Hashem yourGod has given you and your household.”     .  

The Boat That Saves Us - Ki Tabo Ki Tavo el ha’aretz… — When you come to the Land… (Devarim 26:1). This week’s parashah begins with a mitzvah of gratitude: bringing the first fruits to the Beit HaMikdash. For us, it also stirs deep gratitude — that so many of our children and grandchildren are already settled in Eretz Yisrael. Baruch Hashem, the dream of two thousand years has become their daily life. And yet, alongside the joy is a touch of sadness. FaceTime is nice, but it doesn’t replace a hug. And I each morning, I see Shimon’s face in my mind’s eye — my guiding angel.  And when my friend Abie, following Irving and family’s Aliyah, joined the “commuting to visit the grandchildren club,” I smiled. Because every trip, every hug, every birthday, is a reminder: our destiny is there. May we all one day “commute” permanently. Reading through my parsha notes for Ki Tabo, i had to pause and acknowledge again the loss of Rabbi Berel Wein זצ״ל — a teacher to so many of us.  His voice shaped a generation. His perspective was unique, his humor sharp, and his weaving of Torah with Jewish history one of a kind. For many of us, his cassette tapes — yes, those plastic rectangles we wore out in our car stereos - from the Destiny Foundation, were for years, our daily Torah. Act I – Fairy Tales in the Talmud Rabbi Wein had a gift for turning even the strangest aggadah into a mirror of Jewish history. Take Bava Batra 73b, where Rabba bar bar Ḥana describes a ship that landed on what seemed like an island. Grass grew on it. They lit a fire. But it was a fish’s back! The fire burned, the fish flipped, and only the nearby boat saved them from drowning. Rabbi Wein would say: this is not a fairy tale. This is our history. We Jews convince ourselves we are on solid ground. We build, we invest, we imagine permanence. But in reality? We are standing on the back of a fish. One shift, one fire, and we’re tossed into the sea. The only salvation is the boat — the Torah, the mitzvot, the covenant with Hashem. Act II – Beams and Guarantees He once told of his Monsey years, building a new synagogue. Canadian beams came with an 80-year guarantee. Someone pointed out Finnish beams with a 300-year guarantee. Rabbi Wein asked: Are we planning for 300 years in exile? This wasn’t a joke. He remembered Detroit: Jews built a synagogue, then moved. Built another, then moved. Each time, they sold the old building to a church. At one point, the pastor asked to join their building committee — since eventually, he’d be buying their next synagogue too! That was Rabbi Wein’s sharp eye: we think we are building on bedrock. In truth, history proves otherwise. Act III – The Human Parallel One Yom Kippur in his Jerusalem shul, a beloved chazan faltered. A diabetic reaction left him unable to continue selichot. He sat down, they gave him something to drink. He was shaken. Rabbi Wein reflected: that’s life. One small imbalance, and a man collapses. We are so fragile. Look at fortunes built in gold and oil, fortunes gone in a generation. Look at empires — Rome, Spain, Germany — each thought eternal, each flipped over like Rabba bar bar Ḥana’s fish. And so he would hammer it in: The only thing that lasts is the boat. The boat is Torah. The boat is mitzvot. The boat is kindness. The boat is Hashem’s truth. Act IV – Ki Tavo and the Land Now return to our parashah. Ki tavo el ha’aretz… “When you come into the Land.” The mitzvah of bikkurim is not only gratitude for fruit; it is gratitude for permanence. Unlike the exile, this land is not a fish. It is a promise. Yet to the world, Israel looks like the most unstable “island” on earth — surrounded by hostility, tiny, fragile. But Rabbi Wein would remind us: this is Hashem’s boat. It may look shaky, but it is the one place guaranteed by prophecy, covenant, and eternity. Act V – The One Request As Rosh Hashanah approaches, we arrive with lists. Health, livelihood, success, peace. But let me ask you: if you could only request one thing, what would it be? Rabba bar bar Ḥana gave us the answer: Stay in the boat. That’s it. If we and our children are in the boat, anchored in Torah and mitzvot, connected to Hashem, we are safe. That boat is our synagogue, our family table, our little slice of Yerushalayim, our bond across generations. Whether shopping in Machane Yehuda to fill a fridge in Jerusalem or singing Adon Olam with a three-year-old sabra in Tel Aviv — that is permanence. Closing – Rabbi Wein’s Legacy Rabbi Wein once said that history is Hashem’s way of showing us the patterns we refuse to see. Exile is a fish. Israel is the boat. So in his memory, let’s live his message. Don’t trust the guarantees of 300-year beams in exile. Trust the covenant that has already lasted 3,000 years. “וְשָׂמַחְתָּ בְּכָל־הַטּוֹב אֲשֶׁר נָתַן לְךָ ה׳ אֱלֹהֶיךָ וּלְבֵיתֶךָ אַתָּה וְהַלֵּוִי וְהַגֵּר אֲשֶׁר בְּקִרְבֶּךָ” “Then you shall rejoice in all the good which Hashem your God has given you, and your household — you, the

 In this week’s Daf Yomi (Horayot 5a), the Gemaradiscusses the status of a tevul yom — one who immersed in a mikveh but has notyet waited for sunset.     The Torah says explicitly (Vayikra 11:32):      וְטָמֵאעַד־הָעָרֶב וְטָהֵר  “…he shall be tamei until evening, and then he shall betahor.”     The question jumps off the page:  If immersion in the mikveh purifies, why is it notenough?  Why must the Torah insist on waiting for הֶעֶרֶב שֶׁמֶשׁ?     The Gemara   • Horayot 5a: discusses a tevul yomwho is still lacking ha‘arev shemesh and cannot yet eat kodashim. He has acted,but his taharah is incomplete until the day itself ends.   • The same principle appears in othermasechtot:   • Zevachim 22a: “טבול יום חסר הערב שמש”— the tevul yom is still missing sunset.   • Chagigah 20b: a tevul yom is in an“in-between” state — not tamei enough to forbid everything, but not tahorenough for kodashim.   • Nazir 16b: compares tevul yom toone who has not yet brought his korban; the process is incomplete until allsteps are done.     So halachically: tevillah begins the process, but ha‘arevshemesh completes it.     Ramban     The Ramban (on Vayikra 11:39) writes:      “הטבילהמטהרת את הגוף מן הטומאה, אבל הערב שמש הוא טהרת היום.”  “The immersion purifies the body from the tumah, but thesetting of the sun purifies the day.”     The mikveh removes the person’s impurity. But the dayitself, the time in which tumah occurred, must also be cleansed — and that canonly happen when the sun sets.     Rashba     The Rashba (Torat HaBayit, Beit 4, Sha’ar 1):      “הטבילהמסירה רוב הטומאה, אבל נשאר רשימה עד שיעריב שמשו.”  “Immersion removes most of the tumah, but a trace remainsuntil the sun sets.”     Like a stain — most is washed away, but a faint marklingers until the cycle of time itself clears it completely.     Maharal     The Maharal (Tiferet Yisrael, ch. 20):      “איןהאדם נחשב חדש עד שיחזור העולם למצבו מחדש, וזהו בהערב שמש.”  “A person is not considered truly new until the worlditself renews, and this occurs with the setting of the sun.”     The mikveh is rebirth, but a new creation is only sealedwhen the world itself turns the page with nightfall.     Zohar and Kabbalah     The Zohar (Shemini 41a):      “טומאהדבקה ביומא, ובשקיעת שמשא מסתלקא טומאה מיני.”  “Tumah clings to the day itself, and with the setting ofthe sun the tumah departs from it.”     The Arizal explains: tumah attaches to the dinim (thejudgments) of that day. Only when the sun sets, and the gevurah of that daydissolves, can taharah be complete.     Chassidut     The Sfat Emet (Emor, 5643):      “הטבילההיא אתערותא דלתתא, אבל הערב שמש הוא אתערותא דלעילא.”  “Immersion is the awakening from below, but the settingof the sun is the awakening from above.”     We begin the work, but Hashem must complete it.     The Life Lesson     This halachah is a parable for life.  Sometimes we must act with all our strength — plunge intothe waters, do the mitzvah, cry the tefillah.  But we cannot finish the job alone.  Only Hashem can close the day and open a new one.     The Tears of a Grandfather     I thought about this when we spoke recently of that younggirl on TJJ.  She came to our home on Sukkot, curious, holding a lulavand etrog for the very first time.  Her great-grandfather was a holy man.  Can you imagine his pain in this world? Watching hisdescendants drift, never living to see his great-grandchildren return.     But he did his part. He cried, he prayed, he plantedseeds. That was his mikveh.     And then he had to wait.  Because time is only relative to us.  Hashem decides when the ha‘arev shemesh will come — whenthe cycle will turn, and the tumah of that day will pass.     And then, a generation or two later, a granddaughterawakens. She steps into a sukkah, curious, ready to return.  That is Hashem finishing the work. That is the sunsetting and taharah becoming whole.     Takeaway     The mikveh is us. The sunset is Hashem.  We must immerse, act, and cry.  But only Hashem can bring the evening, close the page,and finish what we began.     So in our struggles, our hopes for our children, and ourtefillot for Am Yisrael — do your part. Immerse yourself in the work.  And trust that in His time, Hashem will bring the eveningand complete the taharah.     

Yesterday , in Parashat Ki Teitzei, the Torah said:   כִּי־תֵצֵא לַמִּלְחָמָהעַל־אֹיְבֶיךָ  “When you go out to war against your enemies.”    This week, in Parashat Ki Tavo, the language shifts:      וְהָיָה כִּי־תָבוֹאאֶל־הָאָרֶץ  “And it shall be when you come into the Land…”   The transition is profound.   • Ki Teitzei is about going out—facing struggle and battle, both external and internal.   • Ki Tavo is about coming in—arriving at blessing, permanence, and sanctity.     The mekubalim explain: if you want to “come in” to blessing,you must first “go out” for others. When you lift another Jew, you are reallylifting the sparks bound to your own soul. And the Ḥasidic masters add: whenyou fight for someone else’s Shabbat, someone else’s connection, Hashem fights for your own.     

 The Torah tells us:  לֹא־יָבֹא עַמּוֹנִי וּמוֹאָבִי בִּקְהַל ה׳… עַל־דְּבַר אֲשֶׁרלֹא־קִדְּמוּ אֶתְכֶם בַּלֶּחֶם וּבַמַּיִם בַּדֶּרֶךְ בְּצֵאתְכֶם מִמִּצְרָיִם וַאֲשֶׁרשָׂכַר עָלֶיךָ אֶת־בִּלְעָם בֶּן־בְּעוֹר… (דברים כ״ג:ד–ה).    “An Ammonite or Moabite shall not enter into the congregation of Hashem… because they did not greet you with bread and water on the way when you left Egypt, and because they hired Bil‘am son of Be‘or to curse you.”    Now wait. Let’s be honest. Which crime sounds worse? Moavhired Bil‘am to curse, to destroy, to annihilate. Amon? They just didn’t bringout some bread and water. At worst, a breach of etiquette.   So why does the Torah treat them equally? Why are they both forever excluded from joining Am Yisrael?  

“Two Wars and the Calf in Between” — uncover why the Torah repeats כִּי־תֵצֵא לַמִּלְחָמָה twice, and what it teaches us about Elul, seliḥot, and responsibility for one another. he first appearance is in Shoftim: כִּי־תֵצֵא לַמִּלְחָמָה עַל־אֹיְבֶיךָ וְרָאִיתָ סוּס וָרֶכֶב עַם רַב מִמְּךָ לֹא־תִירָא מֵהֶם כִּי ה׳ אֱלֹהֶיךָ עִמָּךְ הַמַּעַלְךָ מֵאֶרֶץ מִצְרָיִם. (דְּבָרִים כ׳:א׳) Here the Torah speaks about a communal war — the entire nation arrayed against the enemy. The Kohen gives his powerful speech: “Do not fear, for Hashem is with you.” The Malbim points out: this refers to a milchemet mitzvah — an obligatory war of defense or conquest, commanded by Hashem. Holy and necessary — but dangerous. War means bloodshed, and bloodshed can desensitize a people. Which is why, immediately after this section, the Torah turns to eglah arufah. Eglah Arufah: The Calf and Responsibility for Blood The Torah describes: כִּי־יִמָּצֵא חָלָל בָּאֲדָמָה אֲשֶׁר ה׳ אֱלֹהֶיךָ נֹתֵן לְךָ לְרִשְׁתָּהּ נֹפֵל בַּשָּׂדֶה לֹא נוֹדַע מִי הִכָּהוּ… וְעָנוּ וְאָמְרוּ יָדֵינוּ לֹא שָׁפְכוּ אֶת־הַדָּם הַזֶּה וְעֵינֵינוּ לֹא רָאוּ. (דְּבָרִים כ״א:א׳–ז׳) A murdered body is found. The elders of the closest city must bring a calf, break its neck in a barren valley, and declare: “Our hands did not spill this blood, nor did our eyes see.” The Gemara Sotah (46b) asks: Who would ever suspect the elders of being murderers? Chazal explain: They are not saying, “We didn’t kill him.” They are saying, “We did not abandon him. We did not let him leave our city without food, without escort, without dignity.” The Kli Yakar writes: this is placed between two “wars” to remind us that even when blood is spilled on the battlefield, we must never cheapen life. If you become casual with life in war, you will eventually become casual at home. The Midrash Tanchuma (Shoftim 15) emphasizes: leaders bear responsibility. Even indirect neglect is guilt. And the Zohar (Shoftim 277a) deepens the point: when blood is spilled without clarity, it is a sign of an unresolved inner war — the yetzer hara still raging inside. The Torah shifts from the communal battlefield to the private struggle: כִּי־תֵצֵא לַמִּלְחָמָה עַל־אֹיְבֶיךָ וּנְתָנוֹ ה׳ אֱלֹהֶיךָ בְּיָדֶךָ וְשָׁבִיתָ שִׁבְיוֹ. (דְּבָרִים כ״א:י׳) The soldier sees a captive woman — the יְפַת תּוֹאַר — and desires her. But the Torah does not stop there. It traces the spiritual fallout step by step: 1. יְפַת תּוֹאַר – passion and impulse. 2. אִשָּׁה שְׂנוּאָה – the woman once desired becomes a hated wife. 3. בֵּן סוֹרֵר וּמוֹרֶה – the next generation spirals into rebellion and destruction.

You are Never Alone – Shoftim 5785  (Based on Rabbi Elimelech Biderman שליט״א, with additional story from Rabbi Shlomo Farhi שליט״א)   My friends, imagine this: you’re walking on a long, empty road. Not a car in sight. No phone service. No flashlight. The world is dark, the wind whistles, and your footsteps echo. Suddenly, you ask yourself—am I truly alone?  

From the arrogance of guests demanding beachfront huts to the discipline of kings carrying a Sefer Torah, today’s episode explores the Torah’s timeless cure for ego: remembering not who we are, but Whose we are.” 

 This week’s parashah, Shoftim, commands us to build asociety of justice. In a powerful op-ed, Charles Kushner warns French PresidentMacron about the rise of antisemitism in France. What does this teach us aboutthe mitzvah of dinim, the legacy of Dreyfus and Herzl, and the courage each ofus must find in Elul?  

In this Rosh Hodesh class we uncover the hidden Name of Elul — ה־ה־ו־י — concealed in a single pasuk of the Torah. Why is Elul’s Name spelled through endings, not beginnings? Why does it unite Binah with Malkhut? And how does this month become, in the words of the ḥasidic masters, the “neshamah yetera of the year”? Join us as we explore the Arizal, the Bnei Yissaschar, the Baal Shem Tov, and more, to prepare our hearts for the Yamim Nora’im 

Pre-recording of Seudah Shelishi class: “עֲשֵׂרתְּעַשֵּׂר – Tithing the Head, Ruling the Heart”  Join us as we explore how Ya‘akov Avinu’s pledge of ma‘aserteaches us to crown the mind over the heart, turning even the yetzer harainto a force for good through the joy of Torah.  Introduction  My friends,as we gather this Shabbat afternoon, I want to take you straight into the heartof our parashah — Parashat Re’eh based on the teachings of the ShvileiPinchas – Rabbi Pinchas Friedman   The Torahtells us: 'עַשֵּׂר תְּעַשֵּׂר אֵת כָּל תְּבוּאַת זַרְעֲךָ, הַיּוֹצֵא הַשָּׂדֶה,שָׁנָה שָׁנָה'— “You shall surely tithe all the produce of your seed that comes forth fromthe field year by year” (דברים יד, כב). The language is striking: עַשֵּׂרתְּעַשֵּׂר — a double command. Not just “give,” but “give and give again.”  Chazal inthe Midrash Tanchuma (Re’eh 11) tell us something astonishing: רַבִּי לֵוִיאוֹמֵר — Yisrael are purified before HaKadosh Barukh Hu through two greatmerits: the merit of Shabbat, and the merit of ma‘asrot.  Think aboutthat. We often speak about Shabbat as the great purifier of Am Yisrael — theday that uplifts, the day that sanctifies. But here the Midrash tells us: ma‘aser— giving a tenth of our produce, our income — has a similar purifying power.  And then theMidrash takes us deeper. It connects this mitzvah of tithing to another pasuklater in Devarim (כו, יא): 'וְשָׂמַחְתָּ בְּכָל הַטּוֹב, אֲשֶׁר נָתַן לְךָה’ אֱלֹקֶיךָ' — “And you shall rejoice in all the good that Hashemyour G-d has given you.”  But wait —Chazal immediately ask: What is this “טּוֹב” that the Torah speaks of?And they answer with a principle that reverberates through all of Torah: אֵיןטוֹב אֶלָּא תּוֹרָה — There is no true good except Torah.As it is written in Mishlei (ד, ב): 'כִּי לֶקַח טוֹב נָתַתִּי לָכֶם, תּוֹרָתִיאַל תַּעֲזֹבוּ'.  So here isthe puzzle that sets the stage for our shiur today:Why does the Torah tie together three seemingly different things — ma‘aser,simḥah, and Torah?Why does giving a tenth of our field’s produce connect me to the ultimate joyof “כָּל הַטּוֹב”?And why do Chazal insist that this “טוֹב” is not grain, not wine, not wealth —but only Torah?  This, myfriends, will be our journey this afternoon. We’re going to take a lesson fromthe Zohar and structure this class so that we move from level to level and in away travel together through seven halls, or seven heichalot, each oneopening a window into the mystery of עַשֵּׂר תְּעַשֵּׂר, the joy of וְשָׂמַחְתָּבְּכָל הַטּוֹב, and the eternal truth that אֵין טוֹב אֶלָּא תּוֹרָה. And along the way, as always, we’ll weavestories — from the Talmud, the Midrash, the great Chassidic masters — storiesthat will bring this journey to life, so that when we walk out of this BeitMidrash, we don’t just understand the mitzvah of ma‘aser, but we feel it, welive it, we carry its joy into our homes. 

In Memory of Rabbi Wein 

Every single day — not once in a while, but every day — in our synagogue, there are people in line at the door asking for help. Some we recognize, some are strangers passing through. They come with letters, envelopes, sometimes with tears. And if you think about it — many of them come hoping that today will be the day their prayers are answered. There’s a danger here. Not that we’ll stop giving — but that we’ll start giving without feeling. That our hands will stay open, but our hearts will close. The Torah’s Words In Parashat Re’eh (Devarim 15:7–8), the Torah says: “כִּֽי־יִהְיֶה֩ בְךָ֨ אֶבְי֜וֹן מֵאַחַ֤ד אַחֶ֙יךָ֙ בְּאַחַ֣ד שְׁעָרֶ֔יךָ בְּאַ֨רְצְךָ֔ אֲשֶׁר־ה׳ אֱלֹקֶ֖יךָ נֹתֵ֣ן לָ֑ךְ לֹ֧א תְאַמֵּ֣ץ אֶת־לְבָבְךָ֗ וְלֹ֤א תִקְפֹּץ֙ אֶת־יָ֣דְךָ֔ מֵאָחִ֖יךָ הָאֶבְיֽוֹן׃ “If there is a needy person among you, one of your brothers, in one of your gates in your land that Hashem your God is giving you, do not harden your heart and do not close your hand from your needy brother.” “כִּֽי־פָתֹ֧חַ תִּפְתַּ֛ח אֶת־יָדְךָ֖ ל֑וֹ וְהַעֲבֵט֙ תַּעֲבִיטֶ֔נּוּ דֵּ֚י מַחְסֹר֔וֹ אֲשֶׁ֥ר יֶחְסַ֖ר לֽוֹ׃” “Rather, you shall surely open your hand to him, and lend him whatever he needs, whatever he is lacking.” Notice: • The Torah doesn’t just say “open your hand.” It says “open your hand to him.” • And it begins not with the hand, but with the heart: “Do not harden your heart.”

Testing Hashem Halacha 08112025 Devarim 6:16: “לֹא תְנַסּוּ אֶת־ה׳ אֱלֹהֵיכֶם, כַּאֲשֶׁר נִסִּיתֶם בַּמַּסָּה” “Do not test Hashem your God, as you tested Him at Massah.” This forbids challenging Hashem to “prove” Himself by fulfilling our conditions. The Torah is recalling the incident in Shemot 17:1–7: • The people had no water and demanded: “הֲיֵשׁ ה׳ בְּקִרְבֵּנוּ אִם אָיִן — Is Hashem in our midst or not?” • They challenged Moshe to “prove” that Hashem was with them. • That place was called Massah (“testing”) because they tested Hashem by saying, “Is He among us or not?” Sefer HaChinuch Mitzvah 435 The prohibition is to set up a situation in which we demand Hashem prove Himself, as though we will only trust Him if He fulfills certain conditions. • This is the opposite of emunah — trust without conditions. • We are to believe and rely on Hashem because of His word, His Torah, and His proven history with us — not because we demand a personal miracle. Testing Hashem can take many modern forms: 1. Making Deals with Heaven – “If You do X for me, I’ll start keeping Shabbat.” That’s not a covenant — it’s a test. 2. Reckless Risk Expecting Miracles – Putting oneself in danger and saying, “Hashem will protect me,” instead of taking normal precautions. 3. Demanding Signs – Refusing to believe or act unless a supernatural sign occurs. 4. Treating Mitzvot as Experiments – Performing a mitzvah “just to see if it works” rather than as service to Hashem. That said, Chazal (Malachi 3:10) make one exception: When it comes to ma‘aser (tithing), the Torah says, “וּבְחָנוּנִי נָא בָּזֹאת — Test Me with this,” meaning we are invited to see how Hashem blesses those who give generously. The Sefer HaChinuch (Mitzvah 435) teaches: • In all areas of life, faith means trusting Hashem without setting conditions. • But with tzedakah and ma‘aser, Hashem gives explicit permission to “test” Him — because giving away part of our wealth feels like loss, and Hashem wants us to experience the truth that generosity brings blessing.  

Sefer hachinuch lists 22 Misvot this week. One is not to forsake the levi. Halacha of the Day on “לא לעזוב את הלוי” — Not to forsake the Levi (Sefer HaChinukh mitzvah 505 in most editions). 1. The mitzvah is from Devarim 12:19: “הִשָּׁמֶר לְךָ פֶּן־תַּעֲזֹב אֶת־הַלֵּוִי כָּל־יָמֶיךָ עַל־אַדְמָתֶךָ” “Guard yourself lest you forsake the Levite all your days upon your land.” The Levi’im were not given a portion of land in Eretz Yisrael — their livelihood came from the ma’aser rishon (first tithe) that the other tribes were commanded to give. This mitzvah warns us not only to fulfill the technical requirement of giving the ma’aser, but also to maintain an ongoing relationship of support and respect for the Levi, ensuring they can dedicate themselves to their service in the Beit HaMikdash and teaching Torah. The Rambam in Sefer HaMitzvot counts this as a separate mitzvah because it adds an ongoing, proactive dimension: it’s not enough to pay your “tax”; you must be careful never to let the Levi feel abandoned. 2. Today, without a Beit HaMikdash, Levi’im do not perform Temple service and we don’t give ma’aser rishon in the Torah sense. But the underlying principle — supporting those who dedicate their lives to Avodat Hashem and Torah — still applies. • This could mean supporting Torah scholars, teachers, and communal leaders who rely on the community. • It could also mean showing kavod to Levi’im in shul — calling them first to the Torah, maintaining their role in birkat kohanim if they are also kohanim, and giving them their due place in the community. • On a deeper level, the mitzvah reminds us not to “abandon” anyone in the community who depends on us — especially those serving the spiritual needs of others. 3. The is a story told of The Vilna Gaon who once hosted a guest for Shabbat who was a Levi. During the meal, the Gaon personally served him first from every dish. When asked why, he explained: “The Torah commands us not to forsake the Levi — not only in their sustenance, but in honor. If in the days of the Mikdash they stood at the gates singing before Hashem, how much more so now, when they keep that tradition alive, should we honor them in our homes.” It’s said that the Levi left uplifted, feeling valued not for his title alone but for his role in the chain of Avodat Hashem. That’s the essence of the mitzvah: making sure a Levi never feels invisible. 4. While the Levi’im of today may not stand on the steps of the Beit HaMikdash, the Torah’s call echoes: Don’t forsake those who serve Hashem in your midst. This mitzvah teaches us to notice, to support, and to honor — whether it’s a Levi in shul, a teacher in the beit midrash, or anyone whose avodah benefits the whole community. At our next opportunity, greet a Levi warmly, make sure he is given the proper kavod, or support someone in full-time Torah work — and know that you’re fulfilling the spirit of “לא תעזוב את הלוי”. The Rambam’s Expansion — Every Jew Can Be a Levi In Hilchot Shemitah V’Yovel 13:12–13, the Rambam writes something astonishing: “Not only the tribe of Levi, but any human being… whose spirit moves him and whose understanding grants him the wisdom to separate himself and stand before Hashem… is sanctified as holy of holies, and Hashem will be his portion and inheritance forever. And Hashem will provide his sustenance in this world, as He did for the Kohanim and Levi’im.” The Rambam is saying that the essence of Levi is not genetic — it’s a calling. A person who devotes themselves to Torah and to serving the community becomes, spiritually, a “Levi.” So “don’t forsake the Levi” means: • Yes, support the physical Levi’im — that’s the mitzvah’s root. • But also, don’t forsake the Levi role in our own lives — the part of us that wants to step away from pure material pursuit to stand before Hashem. • And don’t forsake others who have taken that role — the teachers, learners, and spiritual leaders around you. Why This is Powerful Today If the Beit HaMikdash stood, you’d bring your ma’aser to the Levi and go home. Today, your “ma’aser” might be the time, resources, or attention you give to those living in service of Torah. And according to the Rambam, it might even mean supporting the Levi within yourself — carving out time from the daily grind to learn, daven, or do chesed, even when it’s not your “job.” Story to Illustrate A well-known rosh yeshiva in Israel once said that as a young man, his father — a shopkeeper — would bring home the day’s earnings and set aside money for Torah scholars before anything else, even food. When asked why, he answered: “If we forsake the Levi, we forsake the Shechinah in our town. And if we forsake the Shechinah, what are we eating for anyway?” Years later, that same shopkeeper’s son became a major teacher of Torah, supported by others’ generosity — a full-circle fulfillment of לא תעזוב את הלוי. This mitzvah isn’t just about “them” — it’s about us. Supporting the Levi means nurturing the people, and the part of ou

 How many times do you need to hear something before itbecomes part of you?     Once? Twice? Ten times?     Moshe Rabbenu gathers the people one last time, and hedoesn’t teach them anything “new.” No fresh miracles. No dazzling wonders. Heretells stories they already know. He repeats. Again. And again.     הוֹאִ֛יל מֹשֶׁ֥ה בֵאֵ֖ר אֶת־הַתּוֹרָ֥ה הַזֹּ֖את לֵאמֹֽר׃  “Then Moshe undertook to expound this Torah…” (דברים א׳:ה׳)     Why the repetition? Because Moshe isn’t lecturing. He’sengraving. He’s searing memory into the soul of a people.     And as we approach תִּשְׁעָה בְּאָב, our national day ofmourning, we learn from Parashat Devarim the sacred power of memory—howremembering can be redemptive, and how forgetfulness can destroy.  

תְּקַע בְּשׁוֹפָר גָּדוֹל לְחֵרוּתֵנוּ.וְשָׂא נֵס לְקַבֵּץ גָּלִיּוֹתֵינוּ.וְקַבְּצֵנוּ יַחַד מֵאַרְבַּע כַּנְפוֹת הָאָרֶץ לְאַרְצֵנוּ. יְהִי רָצוֹן מִלְּפָנֶיךָ ה אֱלֹקינוּוֵאלֹהֵי אֲבוֹתֵינוּ, שֶׁכָּל טִפָּה וְטִפָּה שֶׁל זֶרַע שֶׁיֵּצֵא מִמֶּנִּי לַבַּטָּלָה, בֵּין בְּאוֹנֶס בֵּין בִּרְצוֹן, בֵּין בְּשׁוֹגֵג בֵּין בְּמֵזִיד,בֵּין בְּעֵר בֵּין בְּיָשֵׁן, בֵּין עַל יְדֵי בֵּין עַל יְדֵי אֲחֵרִים, שֶׁלֹּא בְּמָקוֹם מִצְוָה,עֲשֵׂה לְמַעַן שִׁמְךָ הַגָּדוֹל וְהַנּוֹרָא הַיּוֹצֵא מִפָּסוּק תֵּהִל בַּל וְיִקָּרֵנוּ, שֶׁתַּחֲזִירֵם לִמְקוֹמָם בִּמְקוֹם הַקּוֹדֶשׁ.

The Killer’s Prayer You didn’t mean to kill. Maybe a tool slipped from your hand. Maybe you looked away for a second. It doesn’t matter now. Someone died, and the Torah says you must go — to the עיר מקלט. Exiled. Alone. Separated from your family. Maybe it feels like you’re in Iowa, and your whole life — your wife, your kids, your parents — are all back in New York. And every day in exile… you pray. Not for forgiveness. Not even for understanding. Just one plea: “Please, Hashem — let the Kohen Gadol die, so I can go home.” And the Torah says: כִּ֤י בְעִיר֙ מִקְלָט֔וֹ יֵשֵׁ֖ב עַד־מ֥וֹת הַכֹּהֵ֣ן הַגָּד֑וֹל “He shall dwell in his city of refuge until the death of the Kohen Gadol…” (במדבר ל״ה:כ״ח) But here’s the puzzle: Why should this prayer work?

The Torah tells us that if someone makes a vow or swears an oath to bind themselves, they must not profane their word—“כְּכָל־הַיֹּצֵא מִפִּ֖יו יַעֲשֶֽׂה” — he must do exactly as he has said.  In Jewish law, vows are serious matters. A neder or a shevuah is not just a passing statement. It creates a personal prohibition. And to dissolve such a vow requires either an expert—יָחוֹל לְהָתִיר נֶדֶר—or a בית דין של שלושה הדיוטות. But what’s striking is how the Torah introduces this mitzvah. Usually, when Moshe receives a mitzvah to transmit, it’s passed from him to אַהֲרֹן, then to his sons, the זְקֵנִים, and finally to all of בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל. But here—וַיְדַבֵּ֣ר מֹשֶׁ֗ה אֶל־רָאשֵׁ֛י הַמַּטּ֖וֹת. Rashi comments: “לכבודם של נשיאים נאמר.” The reason? Because the annulment of vows is a unique halachic tool given to leaders, to experts. Not every judge can do it. It requires שִׁקּוּל דַּעַת, יִרְאַת שָׁמַיִם, and the discernment to distinguish between a vow made in clarity and one made in desperation. But I’d like to go deeper.

 This is an origin story I had never heard and I’m fairlysure that most of you have not heard it before either.      And here’s how it goes:        Yehoshua’s father was a righteous man. He and his wife hadno children. He prayed passionately for a child, and at last, Hashem answeredhis prayers.   Yehoshua’s mother noticed that although she had becomepregnant, her husband was still not happy. He was crying and fasting even morethan before. Overwhelmed by his constant sorrow, she turned to him and said,“You should rejoice! Hashem has heard your prayers! We are going to have ababy!” But still, he remained troubled. Pressed daily by her concern, heeventually revealed the reason for his sadness: a message had come to him fromHeaven—the boy who will be born to you is destined to behead you.     His wife believed him, for she knew her husband was on agreat spiritual level. When the child was born, and it was indeed a boy, shequietly made a small box, coated it, placed the infant inside, and set himafloat upon the Nile.     One day, Pharaoh held a grand feast for all his ministers.Among the royal delicacies brought to the table was a very big fish. When itwas cut open before the king, to everyone's astonishment, a crying baby wasfound inside. Struck by the wonder, Pharaoh adopted the child and raised himwithin the palace. In time, the boy grew and was appointed Chief Executioner.     Years later, Yehoshua’s father fell into disfavor withPharaoh. The king ordered the executioner to behead him and seize his wife,children, and possessions, as was the cruel custom of the time. After beheadinghis own father, Yehoshua met his mother, who revealed to him the truth of hisorigins: how she had cast him into the river to save him, and how the big fishat the banquet had swallowed him. He believed her—he remembered being told thathe had been found at a banquet inside a fish. Though he had not known untilthat moment that the man he beheaded was his own father, he was overcome withremorse and did teshuvah. From that time on, he was called 'Yehoshua binNun', because in Aramaic, the word Nun means fish.     And then my reactions which may have been audible: “That’sinsane!” “That’s impossible !” “Wait… is that real?”     Now, full disclosure. When I read this, as you can tell,something bothered me.     I mean… it’s gripping, cinematic, spiritual—but also… what?!     So I did what any good Jew does when a story sounds too epicto be true—I started digging.     And here’s what I found.     

 Title: The Severed Letter and the UnbrokenSoul: Zimri, Pinchas, and the Redemption of a Cut Covenant  ThisShabbat: A brokenletter. A severed soul. A redemption that spans lifetimes.Join us for “The Severed Letter and the Unbroken Soul” — a journey fromZimri to Rabbi Akiva and beyond.  Opening:Questions That Demand Answers  What do wedo when we find a broken letter in a Sefer Torah? We stop. We call a sofer. Wedeclare the scroll pasul. One letter broken, and the Torah’s voice is silenced.  But there’sone shocking exception.  In ParashatPinchas, Hashem rewards Pinchas with a berit shalom — a covenant of peace. Yetin every kosher Sefer Torah, the word שָׁלוֹם is written with a vavketu’ah — a broken vav. Not a sofer’s error, not an oversight, but ahalachic requirement.  Why here?Why now? Why peace — a word that also appears in Hashem’s name — fractured?  And why wasPinchas, the hero of the moment, so hated by the people? Why did the mal’acheihasharet, the ministering angels, seek to kill him? What did they see thatwe don’t?  Even morepuzzling: our Sages reveal that Zimri’s soul returns — not once, but twice —once as Rabbi Akiva, and again as Ketiah bar Shalom both alive at thesame time. Moreso Zimri had been here before and failed and this was hischance to fix things.   What’s thethread tying all this together?  Tounderstand, we’ll journey together today. The inspiration for this class is a66 page booklet I received last week from Rav Chaim Rosenblatt of NetivAryeh in Jerusalem, it is based on the teachings of Rav MosheWolfson zatzal. I have also interwoven, as is natural, my own thoughts based onmy limited understanding as I was taught by Rabbi Abittan Zsl.   Lets callthis a tale of a soul. Shattered. Elevated. Redeemed.  To me, it’sthe story of how Hashem never gives up on us.  

 In פַּרָשַׁתפִּינְחָס, Hashem gives Pinḥas the ultimate gift:      “הִנְנִי נֹתֵן לוֹ אֶת־בְּרִיתִי שָׁלוֹם”  “Behold, Igive him My covenant of peace.”  (במדבר כ״ה:י״ב)     But if youlook inside a Sefer Torah, you’ll notice something unusual:     The word שָׁלוֹםis written with a ו׳ קְטוּעָה—a broken vav.     Why wouldthe Torah—which is תְּמוּמָה and שְׁלֵמָה—contain a broken letter?     

 ParashatPinḥasintroduces us to the reward and eternal legacy of a man who acted with zeal,truth, and complete selflessness. But to fully understand Pinḥas, we must contrast him withanother towering figure — one who also spoke with God, one who was considered aprophet among the nations — the notorious Bilʿam.     Twomen. Two missions.  Onesword. One spell.  Onerooted in truth. The other swallowed by ego.     Butwhat happens when these two meet?     Let’sbegin not in our parashah, but in the next:  Whenthe Jewish army goes to war with Midyan, who do they find there?     Bilʿam.     He’snot on the battlefield.  He’snot in the beit midrash.  He’snot prophesying.     He’scollecting payment — for his wicked advice: “Send in the Midyanite women. Breaktheir morality, and you break their protection.”     Andit worked.     24,000men of Shevet Shimʿon died in a plague.  176,000were guilty of idolatry.  Bilʿam was being paid per Jewlost.     ButHashem doesn’t forget.     EnterPinḥas,leading the army.  He,the same man who halted the plague with a spear in last week’s parashah, nowbrings justice with a sword.     TheMidrash (Yalkut Shimʿoni 771) says Bilʿam tried to escape using sorcery — he flew into the air! ButPinḥasinvoked the Divine Name, and Bilʿam crashed down. One clean stroke — and the man who thoughthis mouth ruled the world was silenced forever.     וַיַּהַרְגוּ אֶת־מַלְכֵי מִדְיָן עַל־חַלְלֵיהֶם… וְאֵת בִּלְעָם בֶּן־בְּעוֹר הָרְגוּ בֶּחָרֶב  (במדבר ל״א:ח׳)  “Theykilled the kings of Midyan… and Bilʿam ben Beʿor they killed by sword.”     Notby spell.  Notby debate.  Bysword — because truth cuts deeper than illusion.        

           EDITORS NOTES      When Souls Leave Early—And Still Lift Us  The following is based on this week’s class and podcast.      At the end of Parashat Balak, we meet a hero—Pinḥas—who steps into a collapsing world and halts a deadly plague. But according to the Mekubalim, Pinḥas didn’t act alone. In the moment he entered the tent with spear in hand, his soul left him in fright. And then… a miracle. The souls of his uncles, Nadav and Avihu—who died decades earlier in Divine fire—returned to strengthen him. They brought with them another soul: Eliyahu HaNavi.  From that moment forward, Pinḥas became Eliyahu. As we sing at every Brit Milah, based on the words of the Zohar, Pinḥas hu Eliyahu. He lives still. And his story tells us something extraordinary: sometimes, a soul that has already reached its perfection doesn’t just ascend—it returns. Not for its own sake, but to lift others.     When Words Fail—And Silence Speaks  There are moments, like Aharon’s loss of his sons Nadav and Avihu, when words simply do not exist. Vayidom Aharon. He was silent.  And I wonder: what questions filled that silence?  · What did we do to deserve this?  · Was this a punishment for the Golden Calf?  · Can I ever be whole again?  These are not academic questions. They are cries of the soul. I ask them too.  This isn’t a devar Torah of logic. It’s an exploration of neshamah—of soul, emunah, and quiet strength. A space where we ask: Can a soul be complete even in just a moment? Can a child’s brief life be a mission fulfilled?     Two Olam HaBa Realms: Chesed and Gevurah  Kabbalah teaches us there are two forms of Olam HaBa—the Next World:  1. Olam HaBa of Chesed: a world of ascent, where souls grow through mitzvot, Torah, and the merit of those left behind.   2. Olam HaBa of Gevurah: a world of blinding closeness to the Divine. A realm of stillness, where ascent ends—not from failure, but from fulfillment.   Some souls don’t come to rise. They come already elevated. And they often leave this world early—not as a loss, but as completion.  The Zohar calls them nitzotzin de-kadmūn letushbaḥta—sparks that precede praise. Too pure for this world, they come for a moment, and return.     Nadav and Avihu: Not a Fall, But a Flame  The Torah says a fire consumed Nadav and Avihu. But the Zohar teaches: it was not punishment. It was devekut—a soul's longing for God so intense it could no longer remain in the body. Their death was not a failure. It was union.  And Aharon? He was silent. Not in despair—but in faith.  That silence echoes through generations of parents who have lost children. It is not ignorance. It is surrender to something higher.     Some Souls Are Already There  When a child is lost, the questions are too raw to answer. Why did this soul not get a chance to grow? Why the pain, the diapers, the dreams left behind?  But the Arizal says: some souls do not need to ascend—because they are already there.  A baby. A young tzaddik. A soul too radiant for this world to hold. Their life, though brief, was complete.  We don’t always need to say Kaddish. Not because we lack faith—but because these souls lift us.     The Story of Pinḥas—and the Power of Ibur  When Pinḥas acted, his soul left him. But Nadav and Avihu returned—through ibur, a temporary soul infusion. They didn’t come back for themselves. They came to save the people. And with them came a third soul: Eliyahu.  From that moment, Pinḥas was no longer just a man—he was a vessel for eternity.     A Soul That Lifts  When we lose someone so young, the world sees tragedy.  But the mekubalim suggest something different:  “There are souls that descend only to complete a small rectification.” — Sha’ar HaGilgulim  They are not broken. They are not in need of us.  We need them. Because their light still shines. Because their mission didn’t end—it simply changed forms.     A Child’s Soul That Elevates  Last month in Jerusalem, we heard from Ḥacham David Yosef שליט״א after our family suffered a painful loss:  “There’s no need to say Kaddish. No need for added mitzvot. His neshamah is already at the highest place.”  At the time, it felt like a door closing.  Now I understand—it was a door opening.  This was not a soul needing help. It was a soul helping us.     The Silence That Lifts  Vayidom Aharon. And David HaMelekh too, after losing a child, stood up, changed his clothes, and went to pray. Because he understood what we all long to understand:  “I shall go to him. But he shall not return to me.” (Shmuel II 12:23)  This is the Olam HaBa of Gevurah. Not a place of loss. A place of completion. A place where the soul

 The Gemara in Sotah (47a) says something shocking:    “As a reward for the forty-two korbanot that Balak offered, he merited that Rutdescended from him… from whom came Shlomo HaMelekh.”   Wait… what?   Balak—the man who tried to annihilate Am Yisrael—gets to be the great-grandfather of Mashiach?    If you told Balak that his offerings would lead to the birth of David HaMelekh, he would’ve canceled the korbanot and grilled the animals for himself.   He didn’t intend good. So why the reward?  

 The Torah opens the scene quietly:      וַיֵּשֶׁב יִשְׂרָאֵלבַּשִּׁטִּים,  וַיָּחֶל הָעָם לִזְנוֹת אֶל־בְּנוֹת מוֹאָב.  — “And Yisrael dwelled in Shittim, and the people began tostray after the daughters of Moav.” (בַּמִּדְבָּר כ״ה:א׳)     One verse.  No battle cries.  Just the gentle pull of desire. Of loneliness. Of spiritualdisarmament.    Bilam, the wicked prophet, fails to curse Am Yisrael. Butbefore leaving, he whispers to Balak:      “אֱלֹקֵיהֶםשֶׁל אֵלּוּ שׂוֹנֵא זִמָּה הוּא”  — “Their G-d despises immorality.” (סנהדרין ק״ו)     And with that advice, the Moabite plan begins. Royaldaughters of Midyan and Moav are sent to seduce the Israelites—not just withbeauty, but with hospitality, charm, and warmth.     At first, they are selling textiles , and clothing - an oldwoman at front.   You want to see the better things - come to the back where there is a beautifulyoung girl waiting she’s hospitable   She offers wine.  Then, herself .     Then, a request:      “הִשְׁתַּחֲוֵהלְפְעוֹר”  — Bow to Pe’or. Just once. Just a formality.     It wasn’t just זְנוּת.  It was ideology cloaked in love.  A theological ambush.  

There’s a profound Midrash: “תָּבֹוא הָאֵם וּתְקַנֵּחַ צֹאָת בְּנָה” – “Let the mother come and clean up the mess of her child.” (Tanchuma, Chukat 8) The child? Klal Yisrael, who sinned with the Egel HaZahav. The mother? The Parah Adumah, the red heifer whose ashes bring purity. But what’s the connection? The Chet Ha’Egel wasn’t wild rebellion—it was panic wrapped in reason. Moshe was delayed. Maybe gone. They needed a leader. An intermediary. Their intentions were leshem Shamayim. But the Alexandrer Rebbe, the Yismach Yisrael, teaches: “Sometimes the greatest mistake… is thinking we understand.” That was their error. They thought they were doing the right thing. They rationalized. They overreached. So along comes the Parah Adumah—the antidote. A mitzvah that defies reason. A chok. A decree. Even Shlomo HaMelekh, wisest of men, said: “אָמַרְתִּי אֶחְכָּמָה – וְהִיא רְחוֹקָה מִמֶּנִּי” – “I thought I could understand—but it is far from me.” (Kohelet 7:23)

🇺🇸 Better Than Fireworks: Giants, Mountains & Miracles 🕗 July 4th | 7:30 AM Shacharit • Followed by Breakfast & Shiur This Independence Day, come for breakfast—and stay for a battle that shook the heavens. A mountain lifted, ants sent by Heaven, and the “worm of Yaakov” that crushed a giant. Discover how Moshe Rabbeinu defeated Og with nothing but spirit, and how you can too. Better than fireworks. Bigger than Bashan.

🎙 Obedience Beyond Understanding Parashat Chukat | Based on Yismach Yisrael, Alexander Rebbe There’s a profound Midrash: “תָּבֹוא הָאֵם וּתְקַנֵּחַ צֹאָת בְּנָה” – “Let the mother come and clean up the mess of her child.” (Tanchuma, Chukat 8) The child? Klal Yisrael, who sinned with the Egel HaZahav. The mother? The Parah Adumah, the red heifer whose ashes bring purity. But what’s the connection? The Chet Ha’Egel wasn’t wild rebellion—it was panic wrapped in reason. Moshe was delayed. Maybe gone. They needed a leader. An intermediary. Their intentions were leshem Shamayim. But the Alexandrer Rebbe, the Yismach Yisrael, teaches: “Sometimes the greatest mistake… is thinking we understand.” That was their error. They thought they were doing the right thing. They rationalized. They overreached. So along comes the Parah Adumah—the antidote. A mitzvah that defies reason. A chok. A decree. Even Shlomo HaMelekh, wisest of men, said: “אָמַרְתִּי אֶחְכָּמָה – וְהִיא רְחוֹקָה מִמֶּנִּי” – “I thought I could understand—but it is far from me.” (Kohelet 7:23) When a Roman philosopher mocked this mitzvah, Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai replied: “The corpse doesn’t defile, and the ashes don’t purify—it’s a decree of the King.” (Tanchuma Chukat 8) Sometimes the highest faith is not to ask “why”—but to do. The Parah teaches us that we serve not because it makes sense, But because He said so. That’s the tikkun for the Egel. That’s Torah. That’s true avodat Hashem.

He didn’t shame people out of sin. He loved them out of it.In this class, we climb the mountain with Aharon HaKohen — and uncover the quiet power of peace, truth, and unconditional belief in every soul.Aharon HaKohen: The Honest Peacemaker. 

Am Yisrael arrives in Kadesh, near the end of their 40-year journey. The final stretch before entering Eretz Yisrael. וַתָּ֤מׇת שָׁם֙ מִרְיָ֔ם וַתִּקָּבֵ֖ר שָֽׁם׃ “Miryam died there and was buried there.” (Bemidbar 20:1) The Torah gives no hesped, no tears, no mourning. Just a silence. Then: וְלֹא־הָיָ֥ה מַ֖יִם לָעֵדָ֑ה “There was no water for the congregation.” (20:2) Chazal make the connection instantly. 📖 Ta’anit 9a teaches: Three gifts sustained Israel in the midbar — the man, the ananei ha-kavod, and the well — in the merit of Moshe, Aharon, and Miryam. When she died, the well stopped. But why did water flow in her merit?

Hashem doesn’t just answer Korach once. He responds three times, with three miracles: 1. The earth opens its mouth and swallows Korach and his household. 2. Fire from Heaven consumes the 250 men who bring unauthorized incense. 3. Aharon’s staff—a dry stick—miraculously buds, blossoms, and grows almonds. Why three? The Maharal explains: Each punishment addressed a different level of rebellion— —Against order, —Against holiness, —And against truth itself. The Ari z”l adds something incredible. He writes in Sha’ar HaGilgulim that Korach is a reincarnation of Kayin. Just as Kayin couldn’t handle being surpassed by Hevel, Korach couldn’t handle being surpassed by Aharon. So this time, the ground doesn’t just swallow blood. It opens its mouth, and swallows the man himself.