Parsha with Rabbi David Bibi

There’s a tremendous lesson hidden in the story of Ruth — a story so brief, so quiet, yet packed with eternal truths. And one of those truths is this: Sometimes the path that looks harder is the one we are meant to choose. And when we don’t choose it — we can be left with nothing. It’s a lesson about courage, surrender, and knowing when to say: “Hashem, I don’t know. I need You to show me the way.” And it all begins with a kiss. 🌬 Part 1: The Spirit That Walked With Her In Ruth chapter 3, Naomi gives Ruth instructions for one of the most spiritually charged encounters in Tanach: “Wash yourself, anoint yourself, dress, and go down to the threshing floor… then go and uncover his feet and lie there. He will tell you what to do.” But there’s something astonishing hidden in the text itself. In Ruth 3:3, the pasuk says: וירדתי — “I will go down.” But we read it — kri — as: וירדת — “You will go down.” That’s not an accident. That’s a revelation. The written form implies that Naomi herself is descending — even though Ruth is the one physically moving. Why? Because Naomi wasn’t just sending Ruth. She was sending her ruach — her spiritual presence. Naomi, through Ruach HaKodesh, projected her soul into Ruth’s mission. In Kabbalistic terms, Naomi’s ruach became enclothed in Ruth’s nefesh. She was saying, “Take me with you.” And Ruth did. But this wasn’t the first time Naomi used her spiritual power. 💋 Part 2: The Kiss of Discernment Back in Ruth chapter 1, Naomi stands with Ruth and Orpah. Both are widowed. Both are loyal. Both say: “We will return with you to your people.” But Naomi senses something deeper. According to the Bnei Yissaschar, Naomi had Ruach HaKodesh, but it was cloudy. She knew that one of the two women before her carried the soul spark of Mashiach — but she didn’t know which. So what does she do? She kisses them both. Not as a farewell — but as a spiritual test. An invitation for the ruach to settle. And what happens? “Orpah kissed her… and Ruth clung to her.” Naomi understands. Ruth is the vessel. Orpah is not. And then Naomi does something almost hidden in the text: She kisses Orpah again. Why? To withdraw the ruach. To sever the spiritual connection that had momentarily hovered over Orpah. Two paths now diverge: One leads to royalty. The other to ruin. 🩸 Part 3: The Collapse of Orpah Chazal tell us what happened that very night. Orpah gave herself to a hundred men and even a dog. And from that night, a son was born: Goliath. How did she fall so far? Because when ruach departs, it creates a vacuum. And the kelipot — the husks of impurity — rush in. Orpah had stood at the edge of greatness. And when the spark was pulled back, she collapsed. Her name tells the story: “Orpah” — from oref, the back of the neck. She turned her back. The Talmud (Sanhedrin 93b) gives her another name: Harafah — from ר.פ.ה, to slacken, to be trampled. The Midrash says she was trampled by men — physically, yes — but more importantly, spiritually. What was almost kedushah became tumah. 🌾 Part 4: Ruth the Galitit In contrast, Ruth is given another name in the same Gemara: Galitit — from the root ג.ל.י, to reveal. • Ruth reveals what is hidden. • She reveals the soul in the shadows. • She reveals emunah, chesed, and ultimately kingship. Where Orpah turned, Ruth clung. From her came David, the shepherd-king of Israel. 👶 Part 5: Goliath — A Name from the Past Now comes a haunting possibility. What if Orpah, even after her fall, remembered the ruach? What if, on some level, she wanted to reclaim it — through her son? She had seen Ruth called Galitit. She had tasted greatness. And now she names her child: Goliath (גלית) — same root. Could it be that she tried to channel Ruth’s spark into her own lineage? If so, the tragedy deepens. Because the name did carry power — but it was twisted. The spark became distorted. What Ruth revealed in holiness, Goliath exposed in arrogance. The light she tried to steal… turned dark. ⚔ Part 6: The Battle of Bloodlines Now the story returns — not to Moav, but to the valley of Elah. David — son of Ruth. Goliath — son of Orpah. Goliath mocks Hashem. David says: “You come to me with a sword and spear — I come to you in the Name of Hashem.” A stone flies from David’s sling. It strikes Goliath in the forehead — the seat of false da’at and pride. He falls on his face — the posture of submission Orpah refused. But David isn’t finished. He draws Goliath’s own sword — and severs his head… From the back of the neck — the oref. 🔄 Part 7: Midah K’neged Midah Midrash Ruth Rabbah (2:9) says: “Because Orpah turned her back to Naomi, her grandson Goliath was killed at the neck.” It’s precise. • She turned her neck. • He was struck in the head… and finished at the neck. This is midah k’neged midah — measure for measure. The very part she turned… is the part that falls. And the sword that finishes it? Goliath’s own. In the world of tikkun, even tumah must serve kedushah. 👑 Part 8: The Choices We All Face This

“חֲצוֹת לַיְלָה אָקוּם לְהוֹדוֹת לָךְ” “At midnight I rise to thank You” (Psalm 119:62). Why that verse? Why now? That moment—his reminder—opened a door in my mind. A doorway back in time. A window into a mystery. Because David HaMelech, the sweet singer of Israel, didn’t simply thank God at midnight—he awoke at midnight. And not because his eyes happened to open. But because something woke him. Something called him. The Gemara in Berachot 3b paints the scene. David hung a harp above his bed. And when midnight arrived—a northern wind would blow. The harp’s strings would stir. A note would sound. And David would rise. Immediately. Without hesitation. And begin to study Torah until dawn. No alarm clock. No servant knocking on his door. Just a note. A whisper of Heaven. A tremor in the night that only David could hear. And I ask you: What kind of man is woken by the wind? What kind of soul hears music when the rest of the world hears silence?

A Crown of Thorns: The Rejection and Rise of DavidHaMelechShavuot, Malchut Beit David, and the Voice of the Lonely Soul  Every year on Shavuot, as we crown the Torah anew at HarSinai, another quiet coronation takes place—the birth and passing of DavidHaMelech. We read Megillat Ruth not just for its tale of kindness andconversion, but because it concludes with David’s genealogy, tracing the rootsof Israel’s true kingship back to a Moabite outsider.  Unlike ancient monarchies that claimed divine ancestry, theJewish king is chosen for righteousness. David's origins are deeply human, evenpainfully so. His great-grandmother Ruth was a convert from Moav, a nationseemingly barred from entering Kahal Hashem. The Torah states: 'Lo yavoAmmoni uMoavi b’kahal Hashem'—yet the Oral Torah clarifies thisprohibition applied only to males, due to Moav's lack of hospitality, a traitnot expected of women at the time. Boaz, acting as posek and judge, ruledpublicly that Ruth was permitted. Yet not everyone accepted that psak, andcontroversy lingered for generations.  The Midrash tells us Boaz died the night after marryingRuth. Some saw this as Divine disapproval. Others whispered that perhaps Boaz’spsak was flawed. Even his grandson Yishai—David’s father—began to doubt. Heseparated from his wife Nitzevet bat Adael, fearing his lineage washalachically compromised. In a complex halachic arrangement, he attempted tofather a child through a maidservant, only for Nitzevet to secretly take herplace. From that union, David was born—in silence, in secrecy.  David was not accepted as a full son. Treated as a safekmamzer, he was relegated to the margins, raised in shame. As he writes inTehillim, “I was a stranger to my brothers, an alien to my mother’s sons.”(Tehillim 69:9)  Yet in those lonely fields, David connected to Hashem withan open heart. His rejection became resilience. His pain became poetry. SeferTehillim is the soul-song of every Jew in exile—our yearning, our heartbreak,our hope.  When Shmuel HaNavi was sent to anoint the next king, he cameto Beit Lechem and met Yishai’s sons. All seven were presented. None werechosen. Shmuel asked, “Ha’tammu ha’nearim?”—not 'Are these all yoursons?' but 'Are the lads finished?'—a question that left spacefor the one not counted. Yishai replied, “There remains the youngest—he’stending sheep.” When David arrived, Hashem declared: “Kum meshacheihu—Arise andanoint him, for this is the one.”  Even then, David’s path was not smooth. When he brought foodto his brothers on the battlefield, Eliav rebuked him harshly. David responded,“What have I done now? It was just a question.” (Shmuel I 17:29) This phrasecaptures David’s life—a constant struggle to justify his presence.  David’s victory over Golyat didn’t erase the doubts. EvenShaul asked, “Whose son is this youth?” though he had already met David. TheMidrash explains: Shaul knew who David was, but now, sensing his greatness, hewondered—could this boy be royal? Could he be Mashiach?  David’s spirit brought peace to Shaul, but also triggeredhis downfall. The pasuk says, “Ruach Hashem departed from Shaul, and adistressing spirit tormented him.” David’s music soothed him—but perhaps it wasmore than music. It was the ruach tova of a soul that had suffered andsanctified that suffering.  The bond between David and Yonatan is one of the mostpowerful in Tanach. Yonatan, heir to the throne, saw in David the soul Hashemhad chosen. He stripped his royal garments and gave them to David—not out ofdefeat, but submission to truth. The Zohar sees their bond as representing thesefirot of tiferet and yesod—a sacred fusion in preparation for eternalkingship.  David hid in caves, fled for his life, and twice sparedShaul, never raising a hand against him. When Shaul and Yonatan died, Davidwept: “Eich naflu giborim—How the mighty have fallen.”  Finally, David was crowned—first in Chevron, then over allIsrael. The shepherd. The servant. The suspected mamzer. Now Melech Yisrael.  So why tell this story on Shavuot?  Because Shavuot is not just Zman Matan Torateinu. It is ZmanMatan Malchuteinu. The giving of Torah is not only about revelation—it’s abouttransformation. David wasn’t chosen despite his suffering, but through it.Torah doesn’t belong only to the perfect—it belongs to those who cling toHashem through pain.  The redemptive arc of David’s life mirrors the path ofMashiach, who emerges through spiritual concealment. From Lot’s daughters andYehuda and Tamar, to Ruth and Boaz, and finally Yishai and Nitzevet—each stepis cloaked in scandal, yet woven with divine purpose. Kabbalah teaches that thesoul of Mashiach must be hidden, lest the Satan destroy it. This is hesterpanim—Divine concealment as protection.  The soul of Mashiach descends into spiritual obscurity toredeem it from within. He is not a king of polished pedigree, but one whoelevates the fallen. As Rav Kook wrote, “Out of the croo

Let’s begin where the parsha begins: “וידבר ה’ אל משה בהר סיני לאמר…” “And Hashem spoke to Moshe on Mount Sinai, saying…” Rashi immediately asks: Why does the Torah specify Har Sinai in this context? Isn’t the entire Torah from Sinai? What’s the Torah trying to emphasize by attaching these particular laws—Shemitah, the sabbatical year—to the mountain? And that’s our first clue: we’re not just being given agricultural guidelines. We’re being invited to climb back to the mountain.

 As we returnto it today, let’s dedicate our learning—לרפואת יצחק בן מרגלית, and לעילוינשמת ניסים בן סלחה, the father of our dear friend Jessica. May the light ofTorah we uncover today bring healing, elevation, and connection.  

 Pesach Sheni is the holiday of second chances.    Lamah nigara? Why should we be left behind?   Amalek attacked us on Pesach Sheni. And when youhear that, it’s like — whoa.  Of all the days Amalek could choose to attack… He choosesthe day that screams, “It’s never too late.”     Amalek stands for doubt.  The Torah hints at it: the word “Amalek” shares the same gematria as safek — doubt.  He’s the voice that whispers,  “You missed your shot.”  “You’re not worthy.”  “You can’t fix it.”    When Amalek attacks, Moshe goes up on a hill. And what does he do?   He raises his hands.   And the Torah says: “When Moshe’s hands were raised, Israel prevailed. And when he lowered them, Amalek prevailed.”   Now the Mishnah in Rosh Hashanah asks the obvious question:  Was it Moshe’s hands that won the war?   And the answer? No.  It was when the people looked up — when they lifted their hearts to Hashem — that’s when they had strength.   Moshe’s hands were a signal. A reminder. Look up.Don’t fall into despair. This battle isn’t yours alone.    So what is Pesach Sheni really?   Perhaps it’s the most anti-Amalek day in the whole Torah.   Because Amalek says: “You’re done.”  And Pesach Sheni says: “You’ve just begun.”   Amalek says: “You missed it.”  Pesach Sheni says: “Come back in.”  Amalek tells you: “You’ll never get out of this.”  And Pesach Sheni says: “There’s always a second chance.”    And that’s how we fight Amalek. With emunah. With second chances. With lifted hands — and lifted hearts.   

Before we begin today’s episode, I want to dedicate these words—to the ones who teach us love not through speeches, but through presence.  To all the wives, mothers, and grandmothers who build homes of kindness and strength… And personally—to my own wife, on the occasion of our 40th wedding anniversary.Forty years of building, of growing, of learning what love really means—together.   And on this special day, I’m thinking of our dear friends: Elliot and Sheffi, and Cary and Nancy—also celebrating forty years of marriage today. Ken yirbu—may their love continue to multiply, inspire, and shine.   This episode is for all of you.  Now let’s talk about a love that’s not just romantic—but redemptive.  Love like this…  There’s a kind of love the Torah calls holy.  Yesterday we read Parshat Kedoshim—“You shall be holy, for I, Hashem your God, am holy.” And as we mark Mother’s Day, the timing feels just right. Because the Torah doesn’t just teach us how to believe—it teaches us how to love. And what we find… is that real love isn't about feelings. It's about structure. It’s about presence. It’s about giving.  

Lets take a deep dive into one of the most haunting and misunderstood moments in the Torah: the death of Nadav and Avihu, the sons of Aharon HaKohen.   We’ll follow their story from Parshat Shemini, through the intervening portions of Tazria and Metzora, all the way to this weeks Acharei Mot and Kedoshim—and reframe their deaths not as tragedy, but as the highest form of intimacy and divine love.   Along the way, we’ll weave together Tanach, Chazal, and the breathtaking vision of the Bat Ayin, who teaches us about the transformative power of a lev nishbar, a broken heart.   

This week, we’re reading a double perasha of Tazria. And Mesorah. These are two parshiyot that, at first glance, seem… not exactly glamorous.  (Based on the Teachings of the Shvilei Pinchas, our teacher, Rabbi Pinchas Friedman)   They’re all about strange skin conditions — tzara’at — rituals of impurity, offerings involving birds and wood and wool and hyssop.    But hidden within all this is a breathtaking teaching — a teaching about speech, pride, humility, and ultimately: finding our center point.  First, a little background:  The Torah teaches     אָדָ֗ם כִּֽי־יִהְיֶ֤הבְעוֹר־בְּשָׂרוֹ֙ שְׂאֵ֤ת אֽוֹ־סַפַּ֙חַת֙ א֣וֹ בַהֶ֔רֶת וְהָיָ֥ה בְעוֹר־בְּשָׂר֖וֹלְנֶ֣גַע צָרָ֑עַת וְהוּבָא֙ אֶל־אַהֲרֹ֣ן הַכֹּהֵ֔ן א֛וֹ אֶל־אַחַ֥ד מִבָּנָ֖יו הַכֹּהֲנִֽים׃  When a person has on the skin of the body a swelling, a rash, or a discoloration, and it develops into a scaly affection on the skin of the body, it shall bereported to Aaron the priest or to one of his sons, the priests.   

Chag Haatzma'ut Same'ach inspired by an essay by Rabbi Shabtai Sabato YOM HAATZMA’UT page 297  Today, we celebrate not only a date on the calendar or a declaration from 1948—we celebrate the beginning of the fulfillment of a 2,000-year-old dream. A dream born in the heart of Yaakov Avinu. Carried by David HaMelech. Whispered in the wind of every exile. And now, with Hashem’s kindness, unfolding before our very eyes in Eretz Yisrael.    Let us journey together through history, Torah, exile, and return, guided by theteachings of HaRav Rabbi Shabtai Sabato . His powerful words help us understand what we’re really celebrating today.  

The Seruf for Iyar is a Yud and Heh followed by a Heh and Vav based on the pasuk: “יתהלל המתהלל השכל וידוע אותי” — “Let the one who praises, praise only through understanding and knowing Me.”   Based on the Teachings of: The Peri Tzaddik (פרי צדיק) is the name of a famous sefer written by Rabbi Tzadok HaKohen of Lublin (1823–1900). He was a major Chassidic thinker, originally from a Lithuanian, non-Chassidic background, but later became a close disciple of the Izbicer Rebbe, the Mei HaShiloach.  AND Sefer Chayyim VaChesed by Rebbe Chaim Chaykl of Amdur (ר' חיים חייקל מאמדור), one of the great early Chassidic Rebbes from Lithuania, a talmid of the Maggid of Mezeritch, and a powerful force in spreading Chassidut into the Lithuanian world. It appears that the sefer was printed posthumously, in 1891 — long after his petirah — based on manuscripts and traditions from his students.   This Rosh Chodesh Iyar, we journey into the secret of healing through small, mindful actions. Discover how listening, da’at, and refining our daily life connecteven the simplest moments back to Hashem — and reveal hidden light.   Chodesh Iyar, we journey into the secret of healing through small, mindfulactions. Discover how listening, da’at, and refining our daily life connecteven the simplest moments back to Hashem — and reveal hidden light.  

Parshat Shemini, a parsha that holds an astonishing secret: the exact midpoint of the Torah — both in words and in letters — is found here. But it’s not just a cooltrivia fact. This secret reveals a deeper message about Torah, support forTorah, and the spiritual roles we play.   The Torah's Midpoints — More Than Math In Vayikra 10:16, we find the phrase: 'ואת שעירהחטאת דרש דרש משה והנה שרף' “Moshe inquired insistently about the goatof the sin-offering, and behold, it had been burned.'  Now here’sthe gematria-level nugget: the word 'דרש' appears twice— and this double appearance marks the midpoint of the words of the Torah.  Then in Vayikra 11:42, in the list of forbidden creeping creatures, we read: 'כלהולך על גחון' “Anything that moves on its belly...' The letter 'vav'in the word 'גחון' is the midpoint of the letters of the Torah — and it’s traditionally written larger than normal. The Gemara in Kiddushin 30a and Maseches Sofrim teach us that our sages were called 'sofrim' — counters — precisely because they counted every letter and word.  But why would Hashem arrange for these midpoints to land here?

Today’s parashah is Shemini—a portion filled with fire and silence, Divine closeness, and the holiness of separation. But today, we’re going to zoom in on something subtle. Almost hidden. A moment tucked into the laws of kashrut, thatcarries a whisper of deep mussar.     And itbegins with a story.     A 24-year-old boy is sitting on the train with his father.  Suddenly, he turns to his dad and shouts out, excitedly:  “Dad, Dad, look outside the window! The trees—they’re rushing past us!”   An elderly couple sitting nearby looks over, clearly confused and even pitying. Why is a grown man acting like a child?     A few minutes later, the boy shouts again:      “Dad! The clouds—they’re running with us!”    The father just smiles. The elderly couple can’t help themselves. One of them leans over and whispers: “Maybe you should take your son to see a doctor…?”   The father smiles gently and says,    “Actually—we just came from the doctor.”      “You see, my son has been blind since birth. And this—this is the first day of his life that he’s ever been able to see.”     

Some of us have the practice that before doing a mitzvah—whether it’s putting on tefillin, lighting candles, or studying Torah—we pause and say a short tefillah: LeShem Yichud Kudsha Brich Hu u’Shechintei. A quiet moment to dedicate what we’re about to do to Hashem, to unite the spiritual worlds. And even if we don’t say the whole LeShem Yichud, many of us still whisper a familiar line: Vihi Noam Hashem Elokeinu aleinu, u’ma’aseh yadeinu konenah aleinu, u’ma’aseh yadeinu konenehu. We say it before the mitzvah. But if you look at the pasuk, it’s actually a prayer for what comes after—after the work is done, after the effort is complete. So why begin with it? Let’s explore that—because I think it reveals something profound about how we bring Hashem into our lives. Not just when we finish a project or succeed in something meaningful—but from the very first moment we take action. And to understand that, we have to look at the very first time this pasuk was ever spoken—by none other than Moshe Rabbeinu. This week’s parsha—Parshat Shemini—

We begin this weeks perasha  וַֽיְהִי֙ בַּיּ֣וֹם הַשְּׁמִינִ֔י קָרָ֣א מֹשֶׁ֔ה לְאַהֲרֹ֖ן וּלְבָנָ֑יו וּלְזִקְנֵ֖י יִשְׂרָאֵֽל׃ On the eighth day Moses called Aaron and his sons, and the elders of Israel. Inspired by Rabbeynu Bachya and Ramban, please join me on a journey—a journey through numbers. But not just any numbers. Two numbers that sit quietly in our tradition, and yet, they pulse with transcendent meaning. Eight. And fifty. Let’s start here: 

The Hidden Structure of Nisan - A Month Outside of Time

By Your Blood You Shall Live: How the Mezuzah Keeps the Exodus Alive  This Pesach, a simple question turned into a deep journey. The Torah tells us inParshat Bo:     “You shall take the blood and place it on the lintel and the two doorposts…”     “And Hashem will pass through tostrike Egypt… and He will see the blood… and He will not allow the destroyer toenter to strike.”       “You shall observe this matter as adecree for yourself and for your children forever.”  וּשְׁמַרְתֶּם אֶת־הַדָּבָר הַזֶּה לְחָק־לְךָ וּלְבָנֶיךָעַד־עוֹלָם. (שמות י”ב, כד)     So,the question is obvious: What is this eternal mitzvah of placing blood on ourdoorposts?     Wedid it once in Egypt. We talk about it every year at the seder. But we neveractually do it again. Why not?      Basedon the Teachings of The Shvilei Pinchas:      TheOhr HaChaim HaKadosh and the Chatam Sofer both ask: if it’s supposed to be aneternal statute, where’s the ongoing practice? The Ramban and Ibn Ezra suggestit refers only to the korban Pesach, not the blood on the doors—but the flow ofthe pesukim makes that difficult, as we see the command for the future korbanPesach in the next paragraph.   Addingto that question, let us ask what is the blood that was placed on the door?      Thecommand we received required each family or household of Benai Yisrael fourdays before the exodus on Shabbat Hagadol, to take a sheep for the korban. Wemust keep in mind that this wasn’t a private ritual—it was a public act ofdefiance. The sheep was the Egyptian god, and Bnei Yisrael were told to tie itto their bedposts for four days. Imagine trying something like this in Indiatoday where they worship cows in some places or even taking an in adamantobject like a large cross from the church and tying it to your bed in a deeplyCatholic country a century ago—not as decoration, but with the stated intent toslaughter it, smear its blood on your door, and burn it in front of thebelievers. That’s what our ancestors did in Egypt. It wasn’t just an act ofsacrifice—it was an act of both defiance and identity. Facing their oppressors,they declared: We are no longer yours. We belong to Hashem.     Butlet us recall the pasuk from Yechezkel.    “By your blood you shall live.”  וָאֹמַר לָךְ בְּדָמַיִךְ חֲיִי; וָאֹמַר לָךְ בְּדָמַיִךְחֲיִי. (יחזקאל ט”ז, ו)     Whythe repetition?     Andwhen do you recall most often saying this verse?  Mostlikely at a Brit Mila.      Rashi,quoting the Mechilta, brings us deeper. The Jews in Egypt had no merits forredemption, so Hashem gave them two mitzvot to perform:  Britmilah and korban Pesach.     Bothinvolved blood. Both were deeply personal and national. Both required courage.     TheTargum Yonatan and the Zohar go even further: the blood of the korban and theblood of the brit were mixed together and smeared on the doorposts. And in thatmerit, Hashem passed over the Jewish homes.      B’damayich chayi. B’damayich chayi.  Whatis so special about these two misvot aseh which distinguish them from all otherpositive commandments. They are the only two positive commandments in theentire Torah that, if neglected, carry the punishment of karet—being cut offfrom the people. We read in the Torah      וְעָרֵל זָכָר אֲשֶׁר לֹא־יִמּוֹל אֶת־בְּשַׂר עָרְלָתוֹוְנִכְרְתָה הַנֶּפֶשׁ הַהִוא מֵעַמֶּיהָ אֶת־בְּרִיתִי הֵפַר. (בראשית י”ז, י”ד)      וְהָאִישׁאֲשֶׁר הוּא טָהוֹר וּבְדֶרֶךְ לֹא הָיָה וְחָדַל לַעֲשׂוֹת הַפֶּסַח וְנִכְרְתָההַנֶּפֶשׁ הַהִוא מֵעַמֶּיהָ. (במדבר ט’, י”ג)        Whythese two of all the positive commandments? Because they are acts of identity.They declare: I belong to Hashem.     Thereis a question our rabbis ask     Whydoes the paragraph of Shema Yisrael and VeAhavta precede the paragraph ofV’haya im shamoa     Ourrabbis explain that    • ShemaYisrael—accepting Hashem’s Sovereignty (ol malchut shamayim).   • V’hayaim shamoa—accepting His mitzvot (ol mitzvot).     Andaccepting the yoke of Heaven must precede the accepting of the misvot      Now,the nation of Israel came into being during the plague of the firstborn theywere referred to as (Shemot 4,22): “בני בכורי ישראל”, my firstborn son, Israel.This is why they were commanded to place on their doorways the blood of thekorban pesach – and the blood of the brit milah.   Theblood of the milah represents acceptance of the yoke of Heaven—the placing ofthe Almighty’s seal upon our flesh.     Theblood of the korban pesach, the slaughtering of the Egyptian’s g-d for Hashem’ssake, represents the yoke of mitzvot.      Thesetwo mitzvot form the

 Crazy Week …I worked on a few classes and articles   I wrote and recorded this Tuesday. On Wednesday, thePresident suspended the tariffs for 90 days and the stock market shot up arecord amount for a single day …. what will be tomorow?  Trust in Hashem—A Test for Our Generation  Rabbi Abittan, Zecher sadik livracha,often reminded us that the great test of our generation is bitachon—trustin Hashem. He would say that because of the comforts we’ve been blessed with,it’s easy to fall into the illusion of self-sufficiency. The Torah warns us ofthis very mindset:  'Kochi v’otzem yadi asah li ethachayil hazeh—My strength and the might of my hand made me all thiswealth' (Devarim 8:17).  Even if we don’t say those words, weoften live them—forgetting that all we have is a gift from Hashem. Andso, sometimes Hashem gently—or not so gently—reminds us that He is incharge.  Just recently, someone panicking at thetariff announcement and how it would affect his business, reached out to tellme he had listened to a shiur I gave on the 7th of Nisan in 2020, just as COVIDwas beginning. It was our first Zoom class through the Safra Synagogue. Theworld had shut down. Orders were canceled. Work stopped. And we were askingourselves: What now?  I shared then an idea based on the Haggadah:  'Bechol dor vador omdim aleinulechaloteinu'—In every generation, they rise up to destroy us.  But there’s another layer. It’s not onlythat an enemy rises—it’s that we feel like the world is ending. And itseems that it’s not once in every generation; rather in our days, almost everyyear we get hit with something that makes us feel the world is ending. Sometimes it’s local, sometimes global and sometimespersonal, but the pattern repeats.  We’ve lived it. After 9/11. During theSecond Intifada. The financial crisis of 2008. Superstorm Sandy. COVID. Andmost recently, the horrific events of Shemini Atzeret or October 7th. And ineach moment, the same fear returns: What will be tomorrow?  The Midrash teaches (ShemotRabbah 3:5):  'Hakadosh Baruch Hu mit’avehle’tefilatan shel tzaddikim'—Hashem desires the prayers of therighteous.  Why? Because in moments of crisis, weremember. We turn back. We cry out, 'Ein lanu al mi lehisha’en ella alAvinu Shebashamayim'—We have no one to rely on but our Father inHeaven.  That first Chol HaMoed Pesach of 2020,we buried so many. It was a nightmare. And yet—we are here. We survived.Like our grandparents who endured the Spanish Flu after WWI. Like generationsbefore them, who faced plagues, pogroms, exile, and still clung to theiremunah.  Our community in particular has longbeen blessed in business. From the days of retail peddling, to wholesale, tointernational importing and investing in real estate. And today, that sameworld is shaking—tariffs, supply chain breakdowns, volatility. Deals that oncebrought profit now bring loss. It feels uncertain. And yet, maybe Hashem iswhispering again: I’m still in control.  The pasuk in Tehillim (20:8)says: 'Eleh barechev v’eleh basusim, va’anachnu b’shem Hashem Elokeinunazkir'—Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we call out inthe name of Hashem our God.  This is the message of bitachon.And it’s not just theological—it’s historical. In Parashat Beshalach, asBnei Yisrael stand before the sea, chased by the Egyptians, they cry out infear. And Hashem says:  'Ma titzak elai? Daber el BneiYisrael v’yisa’u'—Why are you crying to Me? Tell Bnei Yisrael to moveforward (Shemot 14:15).  Sometimes emunah means standingstill; sometimes it means marching forward even when we can’t see the path.But always it means knowing Who is leading us.  Even in October 7th’s darkness, we saw YadHashem—through miracles, survival, unity, and resolve. And perhaps that’sthe silver lining: we remembered that we are not alone.  So with all this in mind, I revisitedthat class from Nisan 2020, and I am going to post it again, not just as a record of what we went through, butas a reminder of what we always come back to: Hashem lo ya’azvenu—Hashemwill not abandon us.  May thisreflection be a zechut for clarity, courage, and geulah, bimheirav’yameinu, amen.  

The Watch and the Worth – A Passover Thought We begin Vayikra with a mystery: וַיִּקְרָא אֶל־מֹשֶׁה—with a small aleph. Chazal teach that Moshe, in his humility, wanted to write וַיִּקָּר—like a casual encounter. But Hashem insisted: no, write וַיִּקְרָא—with a calling. A term of love, of nearness. Because Hashem valued Moshe—even more than Moshe valued himself. And that’s the secret of geulah, of redemption. It’s not just about being taken out of Egypt. It’s about being told: “You are worthy. You are wanted. I choose you.” Let me tell you a story. A grandfather gives his grandson an old watch and sends him to get it appraised. At the jewelry store: $200. At the pawn shop: $60, after bargaining. Then, at a museum, the same watch is valued at $50,000. The stunned grandson returns, and the grandfather says: “You see? The watch never changed. But different people saw different worth. Some saw junk. One saw treasure. That’s the lesson—your value doesn’t depend on others’ opinions. It depends on who truly understands you.” And that’s exactly the message of the Seder. When we say בַּעֲבוּר זֶה עָשָׂה ה׳ לִי—“Because of this, Hashem did for me”—we’re not telling a story about the past. We’re standing in the present, in the relationship. We’re declaring: Hashem sees my worth. He chose me. He brought me out of Egypt. But here’s the thing: you don’t show up to the Seder cold. You prepare. Because when someone of infinite value invites you to a night of connection— You don’t just toss something together. You get your mind ready. Your heart. Your soul. We prepare for the Seder not just to clean our homes, but to clear space inside—so we can remember who we are, and who we belong to. So don’t just get ready for a meal. Get ready to be seen. Get ready to be chosen—again. Get ready to remember what Hashem has always known: You are priceless. Be sure to listen to the class - Its All About Me ! 

When I was a kid I enjoyed playing baseball. We started at whiffle ball on thesidewalk and the driveway, graduated to soft ball in the park and when we hadonly a few of us, grabbed a broom stick and spalding and headed for the schoolyard. The key to hitting in baseball is to make contact. I think the key to theSeder and to Pesach is to make contact   

During the first 12 days of Nissan, we read the korbanot hanesi’im — the offerings brought by each tribal prince during the dedication of the Mishkan (Bamidbar 7). On day 13, we read “Zot chanukat hamizbe’ach.” After that, many communities continue saying the reading each day through day 21, and add names of departed loved ones for merit.

 Audits and Public Trust   Parshat Pikudei begins with Moses giving acomplete accounting of all the raw materials collected for the building of themishkan along with details on how these materials were used. Realizing that wealready were given this information we ask why the need for an official auditwhich seems to be a redundancy. We know that audits typically followquestionable actions or accusations. So what led to this audit?   The Midrash tell us: “They gazed afterMoses” – People criticized Moses. Theyused to say to one another, “Look at that neck. Look at those legs. Moses iseating and drinking what belongs to us. All that he has belongs to us.” Theother would reply: “A man who is in charge of the work of the Sanctuary – whatdo you expect? Do you expect that he should not get rich?” As soon as he heardthis, Moses replied, “By your life, as soon as the Sanctuary is complete, Iwill make a full reckoning with you.”  We wonder was this idle chatter widespreador perhaps only the conversation of a very few? And how could they accuse Mosesof living off the communal till? Ironically they accuse Moses of taking what istheirs and using those funds to purchase and eat the choicest cuts of meats. Ifind the accusation itself the most ludicrous. Recall that the man who ascendedMount Sinai in order to receive the Torah on their behalf and following theincident of the Golden Calf when Hashem tells Moses that he will destroy thesepeople returns to beg forgiveness for them did not eat or drink for forty daysand forty nights.   What do they think that he was making upfor lost time and opportunity? Why even give substance to this ridiculouschatter by responding to it?  We can add to the question based onanother midrash which asks, “Why did Moshe make an accounting with them whenHashem trusted him, as the pasuk says:  לֹא־כֵ֖ן עַבְדִּ֣ימֹשֶׁ֑ה בְּכׇל־בֵּיתִ֖י נֶאֱמָ֥ן הֽוּא׃    “Myservant, Moshe, is not that way; in all My house he is trustworthy” If he hasG-d’s trust, is that not more than enough testimony to his honesty?   I would suggest that Moses may have notbeen looking to defend himself. After all, he was neither the storage manager,nor the artisan, nor the seamstress. Where others might have opportunity topilfer a bit of gold here or some silk there, he had none. So perhaps inseeming to defend himself, he was really looking to avoid any accusation everbeing made against Bezalel, Aholiav and their teams of artisans and he wassetting an example to future leaders involved in any sort of public funding.   Moshe Rabbeynu’s actions teach us that aleader must avoid even the slightest hint of impropriety especially when itcomes to the public’s money and their trust.  

My son in law Moshe Alouf shared this with me this morning. A short thought on appreciating the women in our lives: A Subtle Purity: The Jewelry Still Worn In Shemot 35:22, the Torah describes the donations to theMishkan: “וַיָּבֹאוּ הָאֲנָשִׁים עַל־הַנָּשִׁים כֹּל נְדִיב לֵב הֵבִיאוּחָח וָנֶזֶם וְטַבַּעַת וְכוּמָז...”“The men came upon the women—all whose hearts moved them brought brooches,earrings, rings, and pendants…” Rashi, based on Chazal, explains “עַל הַנָּשִׁים” as “withthe women,” suggesting the men came closely following them. But the MeshechChochma (on this pasuk) notices that Onkelos translates itliterally: “while the jewelry was still on the women” (guvraya alneshaya). Why emphasize that the jewelry was still being worn? The Meshech Chochma brings in a powerful halachic framework.From the laws of Isurei HaMizbeyach, if an object is merely declared forAvodah Zarah, it's not inherently forbidden. But if any action—likeplacing it or shaping it—is done in the service of idolatry, the item becomesassur (forbidden). At the time of the Golden Calf, Bnei Yisrael (or at leastthe Erev Rav) said: “אֵלֶּה אֱלֹהֶיךָ יִשְׂרָאֵל”—“These are yourgods.” That plural language reflects a desire for multiple powers, and theircontributions of gold were accompanied by physical acts of creation. This couldrender any gold connected to the sin invalid for use in holy service. Enter the brilliance of the women. When Aharon askedfor their jewelry to delay the Egel, they refused to give. That goldremained pure. So when it came time to build the Mishkan, the men didn'tjust bring gold. They brought the women themselves—with the jewelry still onthem—to show clearly: this gold was never involved, never tainted. Itwas still “על הנשים”—on the women, not given over for sin. A Thought to Take With Us From this detail, we learn that not participating ina wrong is itself a form of powerful avodah. The women’s refusal to give to theEgel became the very foundation of their gift’s kosher status for theMishkan. A Story to Illustrate Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach zt”l once walked into a room fullof people discussing whether certain donations could be accepted by a yeshivadue to questionable sources. He said gently, “Sometimes the most valuable giftis not the donation itself, but the way it was held back when it could havegone to the wrong place.” Just like the gold that remained on the women until it couldbe offered to Hashem.

 Bezalel is one of the most fascinating figures in the Torah. Despite being only 13 years old, he was entrusted with the immense responsibility of constructing the Mishkan and its sacred vessels. His wisdom, connection to divine inspiration,and spiritual legacy offer profound lessons. We have given a number of classeson Bezalel over the years and they are available in podcasts. I have anaffinity towards Bezalel due mainly to my father’s admiration of him and how my dad and for generations before him were craftsmen of holy objects. You can hear more about that in the previous classes posted.     This class will explore Bezalel’s unique role through some key themes: his wisdom, and I would like to specifically explore the power of the Aleph Bet on a level joining the spiritual and the physical, his connection to Hur and the concept of Ibbur and reincarnation or the Ruach of Chur entering him at the age of 13, his approach to constructing the Mishkan which seemed to differ from Moshe’s instructions where we will review an approach from Above to Below, vs Building up Below to Above, And perhaps the personal lessons we can learn from Besalel     

The Kiyor and the Sanctification of the Mundane I recall the rabbi, Rabbi Abittan A’H, would go to Hollywood Gym in Long Beach, surrounded by weightlifters, bodybuilders, and surfers. Dressed in his white shirt, black suit pants, and all-black walking shoes, he would walk on the treadmill. Sometimes, he would even teach the people around him. He explained to us that when one keeps in mind the precept of Ushmartem et nafshotechem—the mitzvah to guard one’s health—and that maintaining physical well-being enables a person to learn Torah better and fulfill mitzvot more effectively, then even every minute spent in the gym becomes a mitzvah. It is our thoughts and intentions that convert the mundane into the holy. We see this same principle in this week’s parashah. This week, we read Parashat Vayakhel, which details the construction of the Mishkan. Among the vessels described is the kiyor—the laver used by the kohanim to wash before performing their sacred duties. The Torah first introduces the kiyor in Parashat Ki Tisa: (יז) וַיְדַבֵּ֥ר יְהוָ֖ה אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֥ה לֵּאמֹֽר׃ (יח) וְעָשִׂ֜יתָ כִּיּ֥וֹר נְחֹ֛שֶׁת וְכַנּ֥וֹ נְחֹ֖שֶׁת לְרָחְצָ֑ה וְנָתַתָּ֣ אֹת֗וֹ בֵּֽין־אֹ֤הֶל מוֹעֵד֙ וּבֵ֣ין הַמִּזְבֵּ֔חַ וְנָתַתָּ֥ שָׁ֖מָּה מָֽיִם׃ (יט) וְרָחֲצ֛וּ אַהֲרֹ֥ן וּבָנָ֖יו מִמֶּ֑נּוּ אֶת־יְדֵיהֶ֖ם וְאֶת־רַגְלֵיהֶֽם׃ (כ) בְּבֹאָ֞ם אֶל־אֹ֧הֶל מוֹעֵ֛ד יִרְחֲצוּ־מַ֖יִם וְלֹ֣א יָמֻ֑תוּ א֣וֹ בְגִשְׁתָּ֤ם אֶל־הַמִּזְבֵּ֙חַ֙ לְשָׁרֵ֔ת לְהַקְטִ֥יר אִשֶּׁ֖ה לַֽיהוָֽה׃  “Hashem spoke to Moshe, saying: Make a laver of copper and its base of copper, for washing, and place it between the Tent of Meeting and the altar. Put water in it. Aharon and his sons shall wash their hands and feet from it. When they enter the Tent of Meeting, they shall wash with water so that they do not die, or when they approach the altar to serve, to burn a fire-offering to Hashem” (Exodus 30:17-20). Later, at the end of Vayakhel, the Torah specifies the material used for the kiyor: וַיַּ֗עַשׂ אֵ֚ת הַכִּיּ֣וֹר נְחֹ֔שֶׁת וְאֵ֖ת כַּנּ֣וֹ נְחֹ֑שֶׁת בְּמַרְאֹת֙ הַצֹּ֣בְאֹ֔ת אֲשֶׁ֣ר צָֽבְא֔וּ פֶּ֖תַח אֹ֥הֶל מוֹעֵֽד “He made the laver of copper and its base of copper, from the mirrors of the women who massed at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting” (Exodus 38:8). It is striking that the Torah specifies the source of the copper for the kiyor, a detail not mentioned for other Mishkan vessels. These mirrors, rather than being an ordinary donation, carried deep symbolic significance. The Significance of the Mirrors In ancient times, mirrors were not made of glass but of polished metal, typically copper, silver, or bronze, worked into a reflective surface. Mirrors have long been associated with beauty and self-admiration, raising an important question: Why would objects symbolizing vanity be used to construct a vessel for spiritual purification? Rashi, quoting the Midrash, provides a powerful explanation. He notes that Moshe initially hesitated to accept the mirrors, seeing them as instruments of the yetzer hara (inclination toward desire). However, Hashem instructed him otherwise: “Accept them, for they are more beloved to Me than anything else. Through these mirrors, the women of Israel ensured the continuation of the nation in Egypt. When their husbands were exhausted from grueling labor, the women would bring them food and drink, and using these mirrors, they would endear themselves to their husbands, rekindling their affection. As a result, they bore many children and strengthened the Jewish people.” These mirrors, once symbols of personal adornment, were transformed into tools of devotion, unity, and perseverance. Because of their role in sustaining Klal Yisrael, they were deemed worthy of being repurposed for the kiyor, a vessel that prepared the kohanim for avodat Hashem. Elevating the Mundane This story teaches us a profound lesson: even the most seemingly superficial objects can be sanctified and given deeper meaning. The mirrors, originally used for personal beauty, became a means of preserving Jewish continuity and ultimately became part of the Mishkan. Rabbi Mordechai Kamenetzky illustrates this concept with a personal story about his grandfather, Rabbi Yaakov Kamenetzky. After my grandfather, Rabbi Yaakov Kamenetzky, of blessed memory, had officially retired from his position as Rosh Yeshiva of Mesivta Torah Voda’ath and had moved to Monsey, New York, he still remained very active not only in the needs of Klal Yisrael as a whole but in discussing Torah with almost any student of Torah who would cross his threshold. One afternoon a young scholar came to speak to my grandfather and share his novella on the Talmud with him. As he sat at the table and was about to begin sharing his self-concocted discourse, my grandmother entered the room with a freshly baked piece of cake for my grandfather and the guest. Before my grandfather had a chance to thank the Rebbitzin, the young man, obviously steeped in his own thoughts, flippantly discarded her generous offering. “Tha

This class was given in the morning. Some of the introductions given list night are eliminated as they are familiar with them in this class. Additionally, some things were added. 

 “Where is Moshe?” Tetzaveh  We will divide the class into four parts   Each will take us deeper into the perasha   1. We will begin by focusing on the power of speech and how words create spiritual realities.  2. If in fact words create reality, how does that relate to tefilah and my words?   3. Peeling away the top layer – Why is Moshe’s name missing ?  4. Peeling away some more layers – What is the Tikun – the repair in Moshe’s name missing?    Final Takeaways – What Do We Walk Away With? Through our journey in Parashat Tetzaveh, we uncovered deep layers of meaning—how words create reality, the power of tefillah, the hidden presence of Moshe, and the ultimate tikun (repair) in his name being omitted. Now, let’s bring it home.  1. Speech is Power—Use it Wisely.  o Our words are not just sounds; they shape the world.  o Whether it’s Moshe’s plea (“erase me from Your book”), Yaakov’s curse, or the Spies’ negative report, we see again and again that words have real consequences.  o We must ask: What world are we creating with our speech? Are we building or destroying?  2. Tefillah Works—Even When We Don’t See It.  o We learned that every prayer is heard—whether answered immediately, saved for the right time (like Moshe’s 515 prayers unlocking Esther’s salvation), or redirected in ways we don’t understand.  o If Chizkiyahu could overturn a decree of death, and if a simple salesman’s prayer could override the nation’s needs, imagine what our tefillot can do.  3. Hashem is Present—Even When Hidden.  o Moshe’s absence in Tetzaveh reminds us that hidden does not mean gone.  o Just like Hashem’s name is missing in Megillat Esther, Moshe’s name is missing here—but his presence is deeply felt.  o In life, we don’t always see Hashem’s hand clearly, but He is guiding everything behind the scenes.  4. Moshe’s Name Missing is Not a Punishment—It’s the Ultimate Praise.  o We saw how Moshe was a tikun (rectification) for Noach, who remained passive during the Flood.  o Noach accepted the decree; Moshe fought for his people, even at the cost of his own existence.  o By omitting Moshe’s name in Tetzaveh, the Torah highlights that he wasn’t erased—he transcended self.  5. The Greatest Legacy is to Share Torah.  o Noach kept his knowledge to himself, but Moshe taught, led, and fought for his people.  o Torah is meant to be given over, like olive oil that lights the Menorah.  o What we learn, we must share. Whether through words, actions, orinspiration, we are part of the chain.  Bringing It into Our Lives   Are we mindful of the power of our speech?  Do we pray with the belief that every tefillah matters?  Do we see Hashem’s hand, even when it seems hidden?  Do we fight for others, or do we stay silent like Noach?  Are we passing on Torah, or are we keeping it to ourselves?  

 The Heart Before the Wisdom – TESAVEH :   Understanding “חכמי לב” and “רוח חכמה”  Why the Double Language?     In Shemot 28:3, Hashem commands Moshe:     “וְאַתָּ֗ה תְּדַבֵּר֙ אֶל־כׇּל־חַכְמֵי־לֵ֔ב אֲשֶׁ֥ר מִלֵּאתִ֖יור֣וּחַ חׇכְמָ֑ה…”  “You shall speak to all the wise-hearted, whom I have filledwith a spirit of wisdom…”     The phrasing is curious. If Hashem is filling them withwisdom, why are they already called “wise-hearted” (חכמי לב)” beforehand? Andif they are already wise-hearted, what does Hashem’s filling add?     This suggests a process: wisdom doesn’t appear out ofnowhere—it must begin with something inside the person. What does that teach usabout how we acquire wisdom?     The Malbim makes a crucial distinction:   • A chacham (wise person) followswisdom, but still struggles with his yetzer hara.   • A chacham lev (wise-heartedperson) has fully internalized wisdom, so there is no inner conflict—his wisdomfills his entire being.     The Torah is teaching that Hashem does not simply grantwisdom randomly. First, a person must be a chacham lev—someone whose heart isalready oriented toward wisdom. Only then does Hashem grant an even deeperruach chachmah—a divine spirit of wisdom.     Rabbeinu Bachya reinforces this idea:   • The artisans making the garmentsweren’t just craftsmen; they needed deep kavanah (intentionality).   • If their hearts weren’t alreadyattuned to the sacred purpose of the garments, no amount of technical skillwould be enough.     This is why Ohr HaChaim emphasizes Moshe’s personalinvolvement. He had to handpick those whose hearts already had wisdom becausetechnical ability wasn’t enough—there had to be devotion and understanding.     To understand this deeper, let’s look at a powerful storyfrom the Dubno Maggid as told over by Rabbi Mordechai Kamenetzky      Once, the Maggid was giving an inspiring sermon, filled withwisdom and passion. Among the listeners were a few maskilim (members of theEnlightenment movement), who were unmoved by his words.     After the speech, one of them approached him mockingly.  “Rabbi, the sages say that ‘words from the heart enter theheart.’ You clearly spoke from your heart—so why didn’t your words affect me atall?”     The Dubno Maggid smiled and answered with a parable:      Asimple man once visited a blacksmith and saw him using a large bellows. Withjust a few squeezes, the flames roared higher and hotter. The man was amazed.“This tool can make a fire instantly!” he thought.      He ranto buy a bellows for himself, excited to create a roaring fire at home. Thatnight, he set up some logs in his fireplace and pumped the bellows with all hismight—but nothing happened. The logs remained cold and lifeless.      Frustrated,he returned to the blacksmith and shouted, “This thing doesn’t work! My firenever started!”      Theblacksmith laughed. “You fool! A bellows can only fan a fire—it can’t createone. If there’s no spark, all the blowing in the world won’t help!”     The Maggid turned back to the maskil and said: “If there’sno spark in the heart, even the strongest words won’t ignite anything.”        This is exactly what the Torah is teaching us about wisdom.   • Hashem fills people with ruachchachmah—but only if they are already chachmei lev.   • Wisdom doesn’t begin with divineinspiration; it begins with a spark, a passion, a desire to learn.   • Once that exists, Hashem fans theflames, filling a person with a higher, divine wisdom.        This idea perfectly aligns with the Gemara’s principle:     “לעולם יעסוק אדם בתורה ובמצוות אפילו שלא לשמה, שמתוך שלא לשמהבא לשמה.”  “A person should always engage in Torah and mitzvot, even ifnot for the purest reasons, because through doing so, he will ultimately reachpure intentions.” (Pesachim 50b)     Hashem doesn’t demand perfection from the start. He looksfor those who begin the process—those who make the effort even before theyfully feel it.   • If a person waits for inspirationbefore engaging in Torah or avodat Hashem, they may never start.   • But if they take the firststep—even if their heart isn’t fully engaged yet—Hashem will fill them with aruach chachmah over time.   • Just like the Chachmei Lev had afoundation of wisdom before Hashem filled them with even greater wisdom, wemust create the beginning of wisdom through action, even if it’s initially “lolishma.”     Rabbi Abittan often quoted The Sefer HaChinuch (Mitzvah 16)which teaches:     “אחרי הפעולות נמשכים הלבבות.”  “The heart fo

 Kavana & Meditation on the Permutation of Hashem's Name for Adar (ההיו)  Remember Adar is the time when we increase our joy  It is also said to be a lucky month   In Adar we celebrate Purim   The sign of Adar is Pices The permutation of Hashem’s Name for the month of Adar is ההיו (Heh, Heh, Yud, Vav), derived from the final letters of the words עִירֹ֔ה וְלַשֹּׂרֵקָ֖ה בְּנִ֣י אֲתֹנ֑וֹ(Bereishit 49:11).   

 In Parshat Mishpatim, the Torah presents us with a profound duality regarding healing. On one hand, we read in Exodus 21:18–19 that when a person is injured, not only must the perpetrator compensate for the loss of work and the cost of a doctor’scare, but the verse concludes with the phrase “וְרַפֹּ֥א יְרַפֵּֽא” (“and he shall heal”).   Two weeks ago we read in BeShalach 15:26, Hashem Himself declares, “כי אני ה’רופאך”  “For I am Hashem, your Healer.” (Its interesting that we end the Aliyah in each Perasha with those words)    These two declarations are not redundant; they reveal two distinct modalities of healing. The Torah grants human physicians’ explicit permission to heal, while at the same time assuring us that ultimate, complete healing comes only from Hashem. In today’sclass we will explore these themes in depth. We will consider the subtle linguistic nuances—such as the difference between dotted and undotted letters in the Hebrew word for healing—and examine the mystical significance of the 27 letters of our holy alphabet. We will also incorporate the visionary insights of Rav Kook regarding human effort, Divine mercy, and the central role of Shabbat in restoring the cosmic order.  

The Garbage Truck Miracle – R’ Paysach Krohn - As retold ED  In my neighborhood of Kew Gardens, New York, there was a terrible snowstorm just before Purim. The roads were blocked, sanitation services weren’t running, and for days, the garbage wasn’t picked up. A few nights after Purim, at 2:00 in the morning, Rabbi Kalman Epstein—a brilliant Torah scholar—was awake learning when he suddenly heard the sound of a garbage truck outside. Seeing his kitchen filled with black garbage bags, he grabbed them and ran outside. As he handed the bags to one of the sanitation workers, the man looked at him and asked, “Excuse me, sir, are you a rabbi?” Rabbi Epstein was taken aback. That was the last thing he expected from a sanitation worker at 2:00 in the morning. “Yes, I am,” he answered. “Rabbi, can I ask you a question?” Rabbi Epstein nodded, curious about what was coming next. The man sighed deeply. “My mother passed away a few hours ago. She wasn’t religious, and neither are my siblings. They want to cremate her. But I know she wouldn’t have wanted that. She wasn’t observant, but she always lit Shabbat candles. We didn’t always keep kosher, we didn’t always keep Shabbat, but I know she would have wanted a Jewish burial.” His voice broke. “Rabbi, what should I do? I haven’t even told my siblings yet.” Rabbi Epstein, wise and quick-thinking, said, “Listen to me carefully. It’s 2:00 in the morning. At 9:00 AM, call a Jewish funeral home. Tell them your mother passed away and arrange for the burial. Once everything is in place, call your siblings and tell them, ‘Mom passed away, and the funeral is set for 2:00 PM this afternoon.’ If everything is already arranged, they won’t argue.” The man followed his advice. Later that day, at 1:00 PM, he called Rabbi Epstein. “Rabbi, you’re a genius! I did exactly what you said. I called the funeral home, arranged everything, and then told my siblings. They didn’t resist—they just showed up at 2:00 for the funeral. Thank you so much.” Rabbi Epstein said, “I’m happy it worked out.” But the man hesitated. “Rabbi… I have to ask you for one more favor. You’re the only rabbi I know. Would you come and say a few words at my mother’s funeral?” Rabbi Epstein had never met this woman. He hadn’t even known of her existence until the night before. But he was a tzaddik, so he agreed. “People Reap in Death What They Sow in Life” At the funeral, Rabbi Epstein spoke with deep emotion. “People reap in death what they sow in life. This woman, though not fully observant, had a connection to Hashem. She lit Shabbat candles. That small act was her bridge to Judaism. And so, Hashem ensured that she merited a proper Jewish burial.” Afterward, Rabbi Epstein went home. The burial took place elsewhere. That was the end of it—or so he thought. The next day, he had to be in Lakewood. The man, Theodore, lived far out in Suffolk County—160 miles from where Rabbi Epstein was. Despite the distance, Rabbi Epstein made the long journey just to visit him and offer comfort. He tried to follow up with him afterward, but Theodore never returned his calls. Then, two weeks later, Rabbi Epstein once again heard the garbage truck outside in the middle of the night. He ran outside and asked the workers, “Is Theodore here today?” They looked at him, confused. “Who’s Theodore?” “What do you mean? He was here two weeks ago, at 2:00 AM.” One of the workers replied, “Rabbi, Theodore never works here. He’s based in Suffolk County—80 miles from here. That night was the only time he ever worked in the city. We were short-staffed because of the snowstorm, so they sent in extra hands. But he’s never been here before.” Rabbi Epstein was stunned. The entire sequence of events—the timing, the snowstorm, the uncollected garbage, the extra shift—was all orchestrated by Hashem so that this woman would receive the burial she deserved. Midah K’neged Midah—A Connection Through Fire I loved this story. The hashgacha pratis, the divine orchestration, was breathtaking. That summer, I shared it at Camp Monk, where my rebbe, Rabbi David Cohen, was in attendance. Afterward, Rabbi Cohen approached me. “Paysach,” he said, “this story is much deeper than just hashgacha pratis. Think about it—what’s the essence of the story?” I thought for a moment. “It’s about Hashem guiding events to give her a proper Jewish burial,” I said. Rabbi Cohen shook his head. “It’s much more than that. Tell me—how did this woman connect to Hashem?” “Through lighting Shabbat candles.” He nodded. “Exactly. She made a connection to Hashem through fire. And in return, Hashem made sure that the fire of cremation did not harm her. Midah k’neged midah.” I got chills when he said that. Even now, as I retell this story, I feel it again. Hashem repays every act, every mitzvah, measure for measure. A woman who lit candles to bring the holiness of Shabbat into her home was spared from the flames of destruction. That is Hashem’s justice. That is His love. And that is the power of

 EDITORSNOTES One of the most significant contributors in assisting mein learning how to deliver a speech or lecture was Rabbi Paysach Krohn, thewell-known fifth generation Mohel and modern-day Maggid and author. Rabbi Krohnimpressed upon me the importance of story telling in sharing ideas and gettingthem to stick. Often someone who hears a story will give over the story withits message and that’s the first step in lilmod ulelamed, in our requirement tolearn and teach. Stories with their emotional hook touch our hearts and oursouls and encourage us to ponder their life lessons. My father z’l, would tellover his grandmother’s memories of sitting in the great synagogue in Baghdadfor hours at a time on Shabbat day hearing Rav Yosef Haim, the Ben Ish Chaideliver his derasha which often ran three hours and by weaving in anecdotes andstories he held onto the attention of a crowd of countless men, women andchildren.     Whenever I hear a good story, I take the time to writeit down and file it away for use later on. And often the act of writing it outhelps me to remember it.  Each winter Shabbat, during lunch and before we praymincha gedolah, I have the opportunity to give an hour-long class. I typicallyprint out notes on Friday afternoon and prepare the class in my mind on Fridaynight. This past Friday night I had prepared a class on Har Sinai and thecontrast with Har Sabor and Har Carmel based on the teachings of the ShvileiPinchas and on notes from Rabbi Yosef Farhi. But as we read the Torah thatmorning, I looked at the crowd which included a group of ninth graders on aShabbaton that weekend and reconsidered. I instead recalled a five minute talkgiven the day before by my friend Rabbi Ariel Mizrahi on jealousy, pulled somevolumes of the Talmud, the Ben Ish Chai and Ohr HaChaim on the Perasha and withHashem’s help wove it into an hour long class with the help of stories and B’H,the kahal was very involved and pleased. The secret was in the stories.       This morning I hear Rabbi Paysach Krohn tell a storywhich he heard from Rabbi Chanoch Ehrentreu z’sl. Rabbi Ehrentreu who passedaway a few months ago, served for many years as the Av Bet Din, the head of theLondon Bet Din in Great Britain. The Rabbi was a leading authority in all areasof Jewish law, with particular expertise in the fields of Medical Ethics,Conversions and Kashrut. After hearing the story, I played it again and wroteit down. In the story he mentioned a number of Rabbis and as I did not knowthem, I googled each to get a better understanding of the players.      But as often happens, when googling the players, Hashemdirects me to a link where the story I just spent time writing down is told inmore detail and that’s exactly what happened this morning.  And I would like to share it with you. I also liked thestory as it has to do with Telz and our synagogue through one of its mostimportant families, grandchildren of Rav Mordechai Gifter, z’sl, form RoshYeshiva of Telz in Cleveland, has a direct connection with this ancientLithuanian town.       Last night I spoke about Mishpatim being the portion ofbring the world into balance. We see the symbol of judgement as the scale. TheZohar for Mishpatim focuses on the concept of reincarnation and if you havetime to listen to the class, one can see that the goal of gilgulim seems to beto bring people, souls and creating into balance. Rabbi Abittan would often saythat it’s not necessary to rely on a gilgul to accomplish this, its part of ourevery day lives. Unfortunately, being within the painting doesn’t allow us tostep back and see the entire painting although we are sometimes given aglimpse. It’s these hints that should build our Emunah and bitachon, our faithand trust reminding us that Hashem is guiding our lives always.    So with respect to Rabbi Krohn, here is the much longerversion of the story as told by Rabbi Hanoch Teller.    SOMEONEonce observed that in the yeshivah of Telz,[1] the concept of“adequate” was anathema to the students. To the connoisseur, adequacy isinsulting.    This lofty standard was not unique to the yeshivah, founded in1875. It pervaded that famous Lithuanian town where fear of Heaven wascardinal, chessed was the breath of life and Torah study was…everything. After the turn of the century, the Jews in the majorityof European towns -- even those with a dominant Jewish population -- wereirreligious and often anti-religious in outlook and practice. But Telz was a“college town” whose central focus was the yeshivah. Rabbi Akiva Eigercommented about the Telzers, “Even the wagon drivers are as full of Torah as apomegranate is of seeds.”    ONETelzer wagon driver considered the possibility of the venerable RoshYeshivah stumbling late at night through Telz’s dark alleys soappalling that he insisted on sleeping on the bench where the RoshYeshivah learned. When the Rosh Yeshivah would a

Resurection of the Dead and Mount Sinai and Why Yitro Arrives 

Datan and Abiram and the splitting of the sea 5779  This Saturdaynight is our dad’s Yahrzeit. It’s hard to believe that it’s been five years. Idrove by the Aventura hospital yesterday and it literally felt like yesterday,pulling in and out of that parking lot at all hours of the day and night, as weall kept him continuous company. On the other hand, we’ve been blessed so muchin these last five years with children, grandchildren, great grandchildren andeven great great grandchildren, ken yirbu, that every minute can be counted. Sowas it yesterday or long ago? Time is so strange.  When the rabbistell us that no one feels the loss of a loved one as much as a spouse, one canreally understand what they meant and see how the loss weighs on that spouseeven after so much time passes. Sitting with my mom on Shabbat, we spoke of mydad. Sixteen hour workdays were not unusual for Joe R Bibi, in fact they werethe norm. Between the office, the factory, the synagogue, the school, thesenior citizen’s center, the Torah center and whatever else came his way, hewas a diligent worker, always there to serve and do for others, and nevercomplained about the work load. It really was a seven day job. He worked withhis head, but also worked with his hands, blessed with the ability to repairand fix so many things. They called him a community leader, but he referred tohimself as a community worker toiling on behalf of the kahal, but tremendouslyblessed for having been given the opportunity. He never shied away from lendinghis shoulder to lighten the burdens of others even when the weight of it all wouldhave crushed a normal person. He often scarified on the altar of service of hisown blood, sweat and tears.    What wasremarkable is that he was a very powerful person, physically and with apresence, but he never demanded from others and he never demanded from us. Henever pressed us into service verbally. He never told us what to do or requiredthat we join this or that. He did set a model of what it was to volunteer andtaught by example. Eventually each of us in our own way followed that exampleand through us my dad truly lives on. It’s heartwarming to hear people dayafter day share their memories of him and of what it was like to work with himand how inspired they were seeing such dedication and self-sacrifice.     On Mondaymorning we were reviewing the reading of the first portion of this week’sPerasha. Many of us are familiar with the verse which tells us that theChildren of Israel went out chamushim which we see also in the book of Joshuameans that they were armed. Many of us are also familiar with Rashi who quotesthat this word indicates a fifth; and that is only a fifth of the people leftEgypt. Four fifth who didn’t want to leave lost their lives during the plagueof darkness. Now although some commentaries vehemently disagree with this, wecan certainly understand why many didn’t want to leave and often expressed adesire to return.    With Egyptdecimated, the people realized that there was a country filled with resourcesand supported by the Nile which was ripe for taking over. Crossing into Canaanwas beyond their wildest dreams. How does one find water, food and shelter fortwo million people? Why search for a new land, when they had a land they knewfor the previous two centuries and which could be theirs for the taking?     And if we couldimagine leaving anyone behind, who would we leave? Who were the worst two guysfrom the moment Moses first encountered them beating on each other before hehad to flee to Midian? Who were the two who caused trouble time and again inthe desert? Who were the brothers behind each rebellion? And who in factremained behind in Egypt with Pharaoh in the palace while their brothersmarched out of Egypt and sat at the edge of the Red Sea? They were none otherthan Edward G Robinson and Frank DeKova – I mean Datan and Abiram!     Week after weekand year after year, in enlightening shiurim, Rabbi Pinchas Friedman, mayHashem bless him, forces us to look atwhat we think we know with very different eyes.     We see thatafter the nation has departed Egypt and made a U Turn in the desert, The Torahquotes Pharaoh 14:3 as saying to “ Bnei Yisrael, ‘They are confined in theland; they are closed in by the midbar.” The question is how will Pharaoh be able tosay such a thing to Bnei Yisrael after they have already left his realm and hispresence? Targum Yonatan explains that we are being informed that Pharaoh isaddressing members of Bnei Yisrael who remained behind in Egypt, namely Datanand Abiram.    The Machzor BetYisrael for Pesach, presents a fascinating idea in the name of the Midrash.Datan and Abiram originally remained in Mitzrayim with Pharaoh; they were notwith Bnei Yisrael when the sea split for them. Afterwards, however, when theywitnessed the miracle of the splitting of the sea, and how the waters fell backupon the Egyptians, they reg

We'll focus on the two pesukim which detail the ladies playing musical instruments, singing and dancing and explore the spiritual power of their actions against the strongest of negative forces in the world and based on the Shelah HaKadosh, how we in our lives can battle and overcome those forces as well. This class is based primarily on the explanations of the Shvilei Pinchas   וַתִּקַּח֩מִרְיָ֨ם הַנְּבִיאָ֜ה אֲח֧וֹת אַהֲרֹ֛ן אֶת־הַתֹּ֖ף בְּיָדָ֑הּ וַתֵּצֶ֤אןָכׇֽל־הַנָּשִׁים֙ אַחֲרֶ֔יהָ בְּתֻפִּ֖ים וּבִמְחֹלֹֽת׃   Then Miriam the prophet, Aaron’s sister, picked up a hand-drum, and all the women went out after her in dance with hand-drums.   וַתַּ֥עַן לָהֶ֖ם מִרְיָ֑םשִׁ֤ירוּ לַֽה֙  כִּֽי־גָאֹ֣ה גָּאָ֔ה ס֥וּס וְרֹכְב֖וֹ רָמָ֥הבַיָּֽם׃  And Miriam chanted for them: Sing to HASHEM for He has triumphed gloriously; Horse and driver He has hurled into the sea.