Daily Bitachon

Continuing our theme of humility during the holiday of Sukkot, we will now connect it to Hoshana Rabbah, based on the teachings of the holy Ben Ish Chai. First, we look at what the Kaf HaChaim writes in siman 664 in the name of Sefer Mateh Moshe . He explains that Hoshana Rabbah is known as a great day of kapparah (atonement). God told Avraham: "I am One in the world and you are one in the world. I am going to give your children a special day to forgive their sins, and that day is Hoshana Rabbah." God has a holy name, Ehyeh ( אהיה )—spelled Alef , Heh , Yud , Heh —which has the numerical value ( gematria ) of 21. Avraham Avinu marks the beginning of the 21st generation: ten generations from Adam to Noach, and another ten from Noach to Avraham. Furthermore, Hoshana Rabbah falls on the 21st day of the month of Tishrei. God assured Avraham: "If your children do not attain kapparah on Rosh Hashanah, they will have Yom Kippur; and if they do not receive it on Yom Kippur, they will have Hoshana Rabbah." This name, Ehyeh , is the very name God revealed to Moshe Rabbeinu at the Burning Bush when Moshe asked how he should identify Him to the Jewish people: Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh ("I Will Be What I Will Be"). This divine name, bearing the value of 21, is deeply bound to the 21st day of the month. The Name of Humility: "I Will Be" The Ben Ish Chai reveals a profound concept: this name of Ehyeh embodies the trait of the humble; it is the name of humility itself. Why? Because Ehyeh literally translates to "I will be." The humble person always says: "I will be. I am not there yet. I am doing well, but I can do better. One day, I will attain greater heights." The humble person never settles on their present state. The arrogant person, by contrast, feels they have already arrived, thinking, "I am." For this reason, Hashem revealed Himself to Moshe through this name of humility. It was in the merit of this modesty that He promised redemption: "In the merit of humility, I will take them out of exile—both from Egypt and from all future exiles." As Tehillim 18:28 states: כִּי אַתָּה עַם עָנִי תוֹשִׁיעַ "For You deliver a humble nation." Our Sages teach that Mashiach will not arrive until arrogance is eradicated: Ein ben David ba ad sheyichlu gasei haruach . When Mashiach finally arrives, God will call out: "Anavim, anavim—O humble ones, humble ones—the time of your redemption has arrived!" The Sefer Ma'or VaShemesh ( Parashat Korach ) adds that Ehyeh is also the name of teshuvah (repentance), driven by the declaration: "I will be better in the future." That is the essence of repentance: acknowledging that we must grow. This is the heart of Hoshana Rabbah. Even if we have reached elevated spiritual heights over the holidays, we remain grounded: "I can do better. I am not there yet." True Greatness in the Eyes of Hashem The Yalkut Shimoni on Devarim (Chapter 7, Remez 845), commenting on the verse "Not because you were greater than all the nations..." ( Lo merubchem mikol ha'amim ), quotes Rava, the son of Rabbi Yosi HaGelili: God said to the Jewish people: "Do you know why I love you? Because even when I bestow greatness upon you, you humble yourselves before Me. I gave greatness to Avraham, and he said, 'I am but dust and ashes' ( V'anochi afar va'efer ). I gave greatness to Moshe and Aharon, and they said, 'What are we?' ( V'nachnu mah ). I gave greatness to David, and he said, 'I am a worm and not a man' ( V'anochi tola'at v'lo ish )." The initial letters of Avraham, David, and Moshe spell the word Adam ( אדם —man). These three leaders attained the status of the ideal, perfected human being, and all three are directly linked to the number 21: Avraham initiated the 21st generation. Moshe revealed the name Ehyeh (numerical value of 21). David HaMelech is the Ushpizin guest of Hoshana Rabbah, the 21st day of Tishrei. Their greatness was entirely forged through their humility. The Aravah: Dirt on the Lips and Absorbing Insults Rav Chaim Palagi, in his Sefer Mo'ed LeChol Chai (Chapter 24), explains the custom of beating the aravot (willow branches) against the ground. The willow leaf resembles lips, coming to atone for sins committed through speech. What should someone do if they have traversed the entire high-holiday season and still require atonement? The verse in Eichah (3:29–30) provides the answer: יִתֵּן בֶּעָפָר פִּיהוּ אוּלַי יֵשׁ תִּקְוָה. יִתֵּן לְמַכֵּהוּ לֶחִי יִשְׂבַּע בְּחֶרְפָּה . "Let him put his mouth to the dust; perhaps there is hope. Let him turn his cheek to the smiter; let him be filled with insult." To place one's mouth in the dust means to embrace profound humility. Wherever you find yourself, there remains hope if you humble your spirit. Bearing an insult without retaliation brings powerful kapparah . David HaMelech modeled this very principle. When Shimi ben Gera cursed him bitterly, David refused to retaliate, stating: "Hashem amar lo kallel" —"God told him to curse; I accept it. I am the one at fault." David's refusal to retaliate was the catalyst of his enduring greatness. Seeing Ourselves as the Willow The Sefer Yismach Yisrael offers another insight into the four species. The aravah is seemingly the lowliest among them: it has neither taste nor fragrance. Throughout the festival of Sukkot, a person might pridefully think: "I am surely like the etrog, or at least the lulav or the hadassim." Hoshana Rabbah arrives to redirect our perspective: realize that you are the aravah . The ultimate goal of this day is to say: "On my own, I have no merits to boast of. I am the aravah." When we recognize our limitations, we create the vessel for Hashem's salvation. Furthermore, Tehillim 119:122 says: Arov avdecha l'tov ("Guarantee the good of Your servant"). While arov typically refers to a guarantor, the Sforno notes that the root also means "to mix" ( l'hitatev ). Thus, the verse can be read: "Mix Your servant among the righteous of the generation, and then I will be good." Just as the humble aravah binds together with the other species, we declare on Hoshana Rabbah—the "Day of the Aravah"—that we cannot succeed in isolation. We pray to be bound up with the collective merit of the Jewish people. The Two Perspectives on the Beaten Branch A clever insight is often shared regarding why we strike the aravah on Hoshana Rabbah, offering two complementary interpretations: The Rebuked Willow: After seven days tied alongside the etrog , lulav , and hadassim , we turn to the branch and say: "You spent seven full days alongside the righteous, and you haven't improved at all? You are still just an aravah! There is nothing left to do but strike you." The Elevated Willow: Having spent seven days in the company of the holy species, the willow has absorbed their sanctity to such an extent that we can now serve Hashem using the aravah entirely on its own. Both lessons ring true: Have we absorbed the spiritual work of Sukkot, or have we remained unchanged? We can emerge either as the willow that requires striking or as the willow refined enough to stand in divine service by itself. The Radiance of Restraint Tehillim 76:9–10 describes two distinct phases of judgment: מִשָּׁמַיִם הִשְׁמַעְתָּ דִּין אֶרֶץ יָרְאָה וְשָׁקָטָה. בְּקוּם לַמִּשְׁפָּט אֱלֹהִים לְהוֹשִׁיעַ כָּל עַנְוֵי אֶרֶץ סֶלָה . "From heaven You pronounced judgment; the earth feared and was still. When God arose to judgment, to save all the humble of the earth, Selah." The first phase, where the earth trembles and falls still, reflects Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. The second phase—where God arises specifically to save the humble—refers to Hoshana Rabbah. In Shemirat HaLashon (Sha'ar HaTevunah, Chapter 8), the Chafetz Chaim writes that whenever a person silences their ego and accepts judgment without protest, the Holy One elevates them in both this world and the World to Come. He draws this directly from David HaMelech's restraint toward Shimi ben Gera. Our Sages teach that at that precise moment of silent forbearance: באותה שעה זכה דוד להיות רביעי לרגלי המרכבה "At that very hour, David merited to become the fourth leg of the Divine Chariot, alongside Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov." The Chafetz Chaim emphasizes that this potential belongs to every individual. As the Talmud teaches ( Shabbat 88b): "Those who are insulted but do not insult in return, who hear their disgrace and do not respond, who act out of love and rejoice in suffering—concerning them the verse states: 'And those who love Him shall be like the sun going forth in its strength.' " Why are those who overlook insults compared specifically to the shining sun? Because when the moon complained in the beginning of creation, arguing that two kings cannot wear a single crown, the sun remained silent. It did not argue; it did not retaliate. Because the sun held its peace, Hashem Himself defended its honor, granting it radiant, enduring light. That is the culminating lesson of Hoshana Rabbah and the conclusion of the seven days of Sukkot: true spiritual strength, forgiveness, and light are discovered through the vessel of humility.

Welcome to Daily Bitachon . We have been discussing the concept that Sukkos is fundamentally an era of humility. Rav Avraham Schorr, in his Sefer Lekach VeHaLibov on Sukkos (page 20), teaches that the Yom Tov of Sukkos is intimately connected to Avraham Avinu. As the Midrash ( Bamidbar Rabbah, Nasso 14:2) notes, when Avraham invited the angels and said, "Hisha'anu tachas ha'etz" ("Rest beneath the tree"), it served as an allusion to the sukkah. Avraham Avinu is renowned for his defining middah : "V'anochi afar va'eifer" ("I am but dust and ashes")—the absolute pinnacle of humility. To genuinely build and inhabit that sukkah concept, one must embody humility. Why is this necessary? Rav Schorr explains that the sukkah is the dwelling place where Hashem's Shechinah is revealed. Hashem rests within the sukkah, and we enter to join Him. Yet, regarding someone lacking humility, the Gemara ( Sotah 5a) states that Hakadosh Baruch Hu proclaims: "Ein Ani v'hu yecholin ladur b'dira achas" ("I and he cannot dwell together in the same abode"), as it is written, "To'avas Hashem kol g'vah lev" ("Every haughty heart is an abomination to Hashem"). How can someone enter the sukkah while remaining self-absorbed? You can raise the physical walls and spread the sechach , but experiencing the true holiness of the sukkah—the intimate revelation of God—demands the character trait of Avraham Avinu. During the Hoshanos, we repeatedly plead, "Ani vahu hoshiah na" ("I and He, please save"). While this phrase carries many deep kabbalistic explanations, Rav Schorr interprets it along this theme: our prayer is to reach the spiritual standing where Ani v'Hu —man and God—can dwell together in one home. That humility is the primary objective of Sukkos. Uprooting the Idol Within Rav Schorr further cites the Alter of Kelm from Chochmah U'Mussar (Volume 1, Essay 10), who presents a penetrating insight: a person can navigate his entire life performing every mitzvah properly, yet remain completely self-serving. Our primary spiritual mission, he argues, is to uproot the idol residing within man. Where does the Torah speak of an internal idol? The Gemara ( Shabbos 105b) quotes the verse: "Lo yiheyeh b'cha eil zar, v'lo tishtachaveh l'eil neichar" ("There shall not be within you a strange god, nor shall you bow to an alien god"). Why does the verse use the seemingly repetitive terms eil zar and eil neichar , and why specifically "b'cha" ("within you")? The Gemara answers: What is the strange god that lives inside a person? That is the yetzer hara . Rav Shlomo Wolbe explains that eil zar literally signifies a "god of estrangement." The yetzer hara alienates you from Hashem until you become a stranger to Him, dissolving your genuine connection to the Divine. The Alter of Kelm takes this deeper: What is that inner eil zar ? It is ahavas atzmo —pure self-love. Self-absorption is modern avodah zarah . When a person serves only himself, he becomes a ba'al ga'avah (an arrogant individual). He transforms himself into the center of the universe; everything and everyone must revolve around his ego. Even his Torah and mitzvos risk becoming instruments of self-gratification. The Cure: Nosei B'Ol Im Chaveiro The Alter of Kelm emphasizes that nosei b'ol breaks the stranglehold of ahavas atzmo . By stepping into the lives of others, you dismantle your own self-centered existence. In the introduction to Sefer Nefesh HaChaim , Rav Yitzchak of Volozhin recounts a profound lesson from his father, Rav Chaim of Volozhin: "My father would frequently rebuke me whenever he noticed that I was not sufficiently sharing in the pain of others. He would constantly impress upon me: 'Zeh kol ha'adam' —this is the purpose of all mankind. 'Lo l'atzmo nivra' —man was not created for himself, 'rak l'ho'il l'acheirim, k'chol asher yimtza b'chocho la'asos' —but only to benefit others to the absolute limit of his ability." The root of his father's rebuke was simple: You are not partnering in the sorrow of your fellow man. This is the classic middah of nosei b'ol im chaveiro —bearing the yoke alongside one's friend. When someone else suffers, you must not stand by as an indifferent observer. You place your own neck under that yoke, feeling their distress as your own. This empathy is the ultimate antidote to ego. It pulls a person out of his narrow self-interest and forces him to acknowledge the world around him. This trait defined our greatest leaders: The Chafetz Chaim: Found sleeping on the hard floor one night, he was asked by his wife why he would not sleep in bed. He replied, "How can I sleep comfortably in a bed when Jewish soldiers are suffering in frozen trenches?" Reb Elimelech "Mike" Tress: Traveling with activists after World War II to visit displaced persons (DP) camps, he vanished from their hotel one evening. When he returned the next morning and was asked where he had been, he responded, "Where was I? I was sleeping on the floor of the camp with the survivors. We did not travel here to rest on comfortable hotel mattresses; we came to see and feel their pain." Moshe Rabbeinu: The Ultimate Model of Empathy It is no coincidence that the greatest exemplar of nosei b'ol was Moshe Rabbeinu. In Chochmah U'Mussar , the Alter of Kelm notes that the Torah introduces Moshe through consecutive acts of sharing the burden: He goes out to his brethren, sees an Egyptian striking a Jew, and intervenes. The next day, he sees two Jews fighting, and he steps in again—ultimately forcing him to flee Egypt. Arriving in Midian, he sees shepherds mistreating the daughters of Yisro, and once more, he stands up to protect them. Moshe Rabbeinu consistently shouldered the burdens of others. For this reason, the Torah crowns him as "anav mikol adam" —the humblest person on earth. Humility and empathy are inseparable: carrying another's yoke purges self-centeredness, allowing a person to live for those around him. Furthermore, when Hashem first appeared to Moshe at the burning bush, the message was: "Imo anochi b'tzarah" ("I am with them in their distress"). When an individual down below awakens his empathy for others, he mirrors and draws down Hashem's compassion into the world. Halachic Empathy in Practice In his pamphlet Mishnas Avraham (Year 3, Issue 3 for Sukkos), Rav Avraham Pam illustrates how this acute sensitivity to others consistently guided the greatest Torah luminaries: The Chafetz Chaim's Priority: During World War I, an entire community had access to only a single set of arba minim . During Hallel and na'anuim , the town sought to honor the Chafetz Chaim by giving him the set first. He adamantly refused, explaining: "There are other distinguished rabbis present. Am I to cause them heartache and public embarrassment merely to satisfy an individual minhag? Overlooking another's feelings borders on violating a Torah prohibition (d'oraita)!" The Rainy Sukkah: In Mishnah Berurah (639:35), the halachah addresses heavy rain on the first night of Sukkos. While some authorities suggest waiting until midnight ( chatzos ) in hopes that the rain will stop, the ruling is clear: if guests or family members are hungry, one may not wait. Causing others distress and hunger violates severe Torah principles, which take precedence over waiting for a more stringent performance of a mitzvah. Rav Chaim Volozhiner and the Shochet: When townspeople attempted to expel a local ritual slaughterer over a question regarding lung inspections, Rav Chaim intervened: "Checking the lungs is ultimately a Rabbinic requirement, as most animals are halachically assumed kosher. Are you going to violate explicit Torah prohibitions against lashon hara and machlokes (strife) to enforce a Rabbinic stringency?" Preserving Dignity: When a burial society refused to bury a deceased follower of the Radzyner Rebbe because the man wore techeiles (a custom not widely accepted in the town), they claimed that burying him with those tzitzis would cast aspersions on earlier generations buried without them. The Chafetz Chaim rebuked them sharply: "You are concerned about casting potential aspersions on the dead, yet you are willing to subject the living family to public humiliation and disgrace?" Conclusion These teachings bring us back to our essential Yom Tov task. Sukkos calls on us to strip away the internal idol of ahavas atzmo —self-absorption and ego. By genuinely caring for the dignity and needs of those around us, we merit the humility of Avraham Avinu and Moshe Rabbeinu, creating an abode where man and the Divine can dwell together.

When Sukkot Doesn't Go as Planned Welcome to Daily Bitachon. We are currently celebrating Sukkos, and it is a very different kind of Sukkos this year due to the heavy rain brought on by a nor'easter. Many people were fortunate enough to get some of their meals in, while very few managed to eat all of them in the sukkah. Most people could not sleep inside, and some even had their sukkahs blown away. So, what should we be feeling right now? What emotion should be in our hearts and minds? Should we feel sad? Should we feel frustrated? Or should we simply tell ourselves, "Well, we just have to be happy because it's Yom Tov— ושמחת בחגך (and you shall rejoice on your festival)" ? What is our attitude truly supposed to be? The Sun, the Sukkah, and the Kick To understand this, we turn to the famous Gemara in Masechet Avodah Zarah (3b). The Gemara describes Hashem judging the nations of the world at the end of days, systematically refuting every argument they present. Finally, Hashem says, "You know what? I will make it easy. I will give you an accessible, inexpensive mitzvah: make a sukkah, and let us see how you do." Everyone goes up to their roofs and builds a sukkah. Hashem then brings out an intensely hot sun, making conditions unbearable. In response, they kick their sukkahs and storm off. The Gemara asks: "Wait a moment— מצטער פטור מן הסוכה (someone who is in distress is exempt from sitting in the sukkah). Why are they faulted?" The Gemara answers: "True, they were exempt, but you do not kick the sukkah on your way out." Kicking signifies anger, irritation, and frustration that things did not go according to plan. That is not the Jewish way. The Jewish approach is: "I walk out with humility. I tried, but my service was not accepted." As the Gemara in Masechet Sukkah teaches, when it rains on Sukkos, it is compared to a servant coming to pour a cup for his master, only for the master to splash the pitcher back in his face. What does the servant feel at that moment? He is humbled: "I wanted to serve my master, but I am unworthy. For reasons known to Him, it was rejected." When you internalize that lesson, you grasp the true essence of Sukkos—humility. You can acquire humility by dwelling in the sukkah, and you can acquire humility by having to leave the sukkah. The objective is to walk away without frustration or resentment, fully humbled, hoping to serve the Master in whichever way He truly desires. Tamar vs. Eishes Potifar: Pure Intentions Under Pressure Rav Wolbe explores this theme through the contrast between Tamar and the wife of Potifar (Eishes Potifar). As Rashi notes, both women acted with what they believed were holy intentions: both foresaw through prophecy or astrology that great lineages would emerge from them. Tamar saw Mashiach ben David, while Eishes Potifar saw Mashiach ben Yosef. Rav Wolbe asks: where, then, lies the difference? The difference emerges when the plan falls apart. Tamar made extraordinary sacrifices. She married Yehudah's first son, and he died. She married the second, and he died. She waited for the third, but was put off. Finally, she devised a discreet, desperate plan: she disguised herself as a harlot so she could bear children through Yehudah himself to build the royal lineage. It worked, and she became pregnant. Yet, after all that effort, just as she was on the verge of fulfilling her holy mission, she was accused of adultery and sentenced to death. She possessed the evidence to clear her name by exposing Yehudah, but she knew that publicly embarrassing someone is forbidden. Rather than forcing her mission through by violating Hashem's will, she remained silent and gave Yehudah the space to step forward on his own. At that critical juncture, she faced an immense test. Human nature would say: "I worked so hard for this holy outcome; I must reveal him to save the mission!" Instead, she recognized that she had reached a boundary. She was willing to perish rather than break the rules, humbly thinking: "I tried my best, it didn't work, and I will submit to Hashem's will." Because her dedication was completely selfless and solely for Hashem's honor, she merited becoming the matriarch of the Davidic dynasty. Eishes Potifar, by contrast, also foresaw that she was destined to bring forth descendants through Yosef who would lead to Mashiach ben Yosef. However, she was unaware of the principle that raising an orphan is considered equivalent to giving birth to them. Seeing no children of her own, she concluded, "It must come through me directly." In reality, that lineage was destined to arrive through her adopted daughter, Asnat bat Potifera. She pursued Yosef relentlessly, but when her plan failed, she did not step back with humility. She grew resentful, became furious that Yosef was thwarting her designs, and threw him into prison. That is the litmus test: how do you react when you are patur (exempted or stopped)? That moment reveals whether you are pursuing Hashem's will or your own agenda. The Meaning of Patur: It Is Not About You Rav Dov Landau shares a moving story about the Chafetz Chaim in his nineties. He was frail and sickly, requiring constant care. One afternoon, his caregivers stepped away and left him unattended so they could catch Mincha. When the Chafetz Chaim found out, he was dismayed: "What are you doing? You are patur! That is not what Hashem wants from you—to abandon a vulnerable person just to say Mincha. Tefillah is not an ego trip; you are halachically exempt right now. Accept that and care for the person, because עוסק במצוה פטור מן המצוה (one engaged in a mitzvah is exempt from another mitzvah)." Rabbi Ades offered the exact same guidance to mothers overwhelmed with raising young children and managing their homes who feel guilty when they miss formal prayer: "You are not falling short. You are immersed in a primary mitzvah, and עוסק במצוה פטור מן המצוה applies to you. This is what Hashem asks of you right now. Accept your mission with joy." The Chazon Ish addresses this directly in Sefer Emunah u'Bitachon : What is the real engine behind our actions? Is it our personal satisfaction, or is it seeing Hashem's will fulfilled? The answer becomes obvious when we are declared patur . He tells the story of a host who loved having guests for Shabbat. Every Friday night, he would eagerly bring home visitors from shul who needed a meal. One week, the coordinator inadvertently assigned his expected guest to someone else. The host walked home empty-handed. His family was crestfallen, asking, "Where is our guest? Why don't we have one tonight?" The man gently reminded them: "A guest is a human being in need, not a prop for our spiritual fulfillment. The person needed a warm meal, and he received one. That is all that matters. It is not about our satisfaction or fanfare." A similar sentiment is found in the story of a prominent sage visiting another sage who was ill. Sensing that the visitor was treating the visit like a mechanical checklist item, the sick sage wryly observed: "Excuse me, but I am not your etrog." When we perform acts of lovingkindness, the recipient is not merely an object for our personal merits; we are there to serve their genuine needs. If the need is met elsewhere or we are prevented from helping, we step back peacefully. This lesson applies broadly. Consider someone who runs a vital charitable initiative. If another organization arises and performs that service more effectively, the original founder should not harbor resentment or cling to a monopoly on kindness. If the need is met, the mission is achieved. It is not about us. Similarly, as individuals age and can no longer carry the responsibilities they once shouldered, they can take comfort in knowing they have fulfilled their part and are now exempt. Reward for Stepping Aside Returning to Sukkos: this is the mindset we must carry when rain disrupts our holiday. We designed our sukkahs, prepared delicious meals, and hoped to dwell in them fully—yet Hashem decreed otherwise. We became patur . Passing the test of performing a mitzvah is essential, but passing the test of letting go when exempted is equally vital. The Gemara tells of Shimon HaAmsoni, who spent years deriving practical laws from every occurrence of the word et ( את ) in the Torah, which generally serves to amplify or include additional applications. For instance, in "Honor your father and your mother" ( כבד את אביך ואת אמך ), the word et includes one's older brother. Eventually, he arrived at Devarim 10:20: " את ה' אלקיך תירא (You shall fear Hashem your God)." He paused. There is no one who can be equated with the reverence owed to the Almighty. Faced with this theological reality, he abandoned his entire life's thesis on the spot. His students asked, "What will become of all your previous teachings?" He replied: "Just as I received reward for the inquiry ( כשם שקיבלתי שכר על הדרישה ), so too I receive reward for stepping back ( כך אני מקבל שכר על הפרישה )." The same principle was applied to the Netziv when the Russian authorities demanded the inclusion of secular studies in the famed Volozhin Yeshiva. Believing it would compromise the integrity of Torah study, he made the agonizing decision to close the yeshiva's doors. He understood that when Hashem closes a path, standing down is the required service. Finally, when Rav Matisyahu Salomon organized the historic gathering on technology at Citi Field, rain was predicted. When asked if he was worried, he answered simply: "I am not doing this for myself; I am doing this for Hashem. If He desires rain, let there be rain." That is the hallmark of true servitude: throwing yourself fully into your responsibilities, yet stepping aside with deep humility the moment Hashem indicates that the plan belongs to Him.

Welcome to Daily Bitachon and our final pre-Sukkot thought. As we all know and have mentioned before, our sukkah is a continuation of Yom Kippur, specifically in the realm of teshuvah . The Rambam, in the Laws of Teshuvah (2:4) and based on the Gemara in Rosh Hashanah 16b, outlines a sequence of steps to help a person achieve full teshuvah and kapparah . He concludes with the principle that one exiles himself, because exile brings atonement for sin by causing a person to become humble and low of spirit. Sukkah as Exile and the Path to Humility Humility leads directly to teshuvah . That is why the Pesikta DeRav Kahana teaches that Sukkot follows Yom Kippur: if exile was decreed upon us, dwelling in the sukkah serves as that exile. How does the sukkah accomplish this? Exile humbles us, and entering the sukkah instills that very humility. That humility is our ultimate goal. Rabbeinu Yonah in Shaarei Teshuvah (1:23) writes that humility is one of the fundamentals of teshuvah , citing Tehillim 90:3: "Tashev enosh ad daka" —"You return man to the point of being crushed," meaning until he is truly humble. This process began on Rosh Hashanah; as the Gemara in Rosh Hashanah 26b notes, the bent shofar symbolizes a bent, humble posture. Our primary focus throughout this entire season has been cultivating humility. On Rosh Hashanah, we emphasize humility. On Yom Kippur, fasting humbles us as we confront our frailty and powerlessness. The climax of Yom Kippur—Ne'ilah—centers on this realization: "Mah anu? Mah chayeinu?" What are we? What is our life? What is our strength? What is our power? Great leaders are as if they never existed, and the wise appear without wisdom. It is entirely about recognizing that we possess no independent power; we stand humbled before Hashem. Now, with Hashem's help, we can connect this theme to Chag HaAsif —the Festival of Ingathering—which traditionally refers to harvesting our grain and produce. The Furrows of Arrogance Rav Yerucham often noted that one can study a negative trait and apply its inverse to the positive. Rabbeinu Yonah in Shaarei Teshuvah (1:27) explains that arrogance causes numerous sins and grants the yetzer hara the strength to overpower a person. He cites Devarim 8:14: "Your heart will become haughty, and you will forget Hashem your God." He also brings Mishlei 21:4: "Haughty eyes and an arrogant heart are the furrow ( nir ) of the wicked for sin." What does this mean? Haughtiness functions like a furrow plowed by the wicked into their own hearts. Once someone adopts an arrogant mindset, sins take root and grow abundantly, just as crops thrive in the furrows of a plowed field. If a farmer sows an unplowed field, the seeds struggle to take root and yield a meager crop; but when the soil is well-plowed, seeds take root easily, producing a bountiful harvest. Rabbeinu Yonah is teaching us that the seeds of wrongdoing readily take root in a haughty heart and yield an abundance of sin. Those very same seeds of transgression would shrivel and die in a humble heart. The Beit HaLevi opens his essay on humility by stating that haughtiness is among the most severe sins in the Torah, leading a person toward every possible evil. He quotes the Midrash (Bereishit Rabbah 22:6): when the yetzer hara sees an arrogant person, he says, "This one belongs to me." Rabbeinu Yonah elaborates that just as a farmer plows furrows to produce an abundant yield and gather a large crop ( le'esof rov tevuot ), the wicked plow furrows of haughtiness to cultivate and gather sins. Notice his use of the root asifah (ingathering)—the exact terminology of Chag HaAsif . Plowing the Heart for Teshuvah In his commentary on Mishlei (21:4), Rabbeinu Yonah states what he said in Shaare Teshuvah and adds that this metaphor also works in the positive direction: a baal teshuvah must cultivate his heart for repentance. In Yirmiyahu 4:3, Hashem instructs the people of Yehudah and Yerushalayim: "Niru lachem nir ve'al tizre'u el kotzim" —"Plow for yourselves a furrow, and do not sow among thorns. Circumcise yourselves to Hashem, and remove the barriers of your hearts." (See Rabbenu Yonah Mishlei 24:30 more at length) Just as a farmer plows to soften the soil so seeds can take root, while uprooting thorns that would ruin the crop, a Jew must plow furrows in his heart. This allows the seeds of teshuvah to flourish while eliminating the destructive barriers of arrogance. This brings us to our main point: throughout the Yamim Noraim, we plowed our hearts to cultivate humility. Our Sages teach: "Kol shanah sherashah bit'chilatah, mit'asheret besofah" —a year that begins poor and humble ends in spiritual wealth, echoing the verse "Tachanunim yedaber rash" (the poor man speaks with supplication). After plowing our hearts, we arrived at Yom Kippur and planted the seeds of teshuvah —our positive commitments and resolutions for the new year. Miraculously, within just four days, a harvest begins to emerge. In many communities, the Yom Kippur liturgy around Kol Nidrei highlights the verse "Or zaru'a latzaddik u'leyishrei lev simchah" —light is sown for the righteous. On Rosh Hashanah, Hashem is our light ( Hashem ori ), and we sow those lights. These spiritual seeds sprout with extraordinary speed. Just as the Jewish people crossed the Jordan on the tenth of Nisan and miraculously harvested grain for the Korban HaOmer days later, Hashem fosters rapid growth in our hearts. By the time Sukkot arrives, we are ready for Chag HaAsif —the ingathering of the spiritual harvest cultivated within us. The True Meaning of Chag HaAsif The Rashbam (on Vayikra 23:43) explains why Sukkot occurs during this specific agricultural season. When a farmer gathers his grain into the silo, a natural sense of self-satisfaction and pride arises over his hard work and success. Hashem therefore commanded the mitzvah of sukkah to remind us that we once lived in the desert without permanent shelter, dwelling only in fragile booths. By reflecting on this, we recognize that every success is an unearned gift from Hashem, leading us to deep gratitude. This timing directly counteracts the haughtiness that material prosperity often generates. The sukkah instills humility so that we do not become arrogant and forget our Creator. This also explains why Sukkot is celebrated in Tishrei rather than in Nisan, when the Clouds of Glory ( Ananei HaKavod ) first appeared: we need this specific lesson at harvest time. In Moreh Nevuchim , the Rambam writes that Sukkot teaches us to remember difficult times while experiencing prosperity. This perspective inspires genuine gratitude and deepens humility. We leave our comfortable homes to dwell in temporary huts—just as our ancestors wandered in the wilderness—recalling our vulnerable beginnings. Any prosperity that followed was not achieved by our own power; it came through Hashem's kindness and the covenant He made with Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov in honor of their righteousness. The Rambam notes that this is a foundational principle of the Torah: every blessing we receive comes through the merit of the Avot . This is the deeper message of the season. Sukkot is about harvesting what we have cultivated. We are presented with two paths: we can plow the heart with arrogance, sowing sin and harvesting its consequences; or we can plow with humility, softening our hearts to receive the seeds of teshuvah and gathering the beautiful spiritual harvest of our mitzvot during this festival.

I'd like to share a beautiful thought on Sukkos developed by Chacham Yosef Harari-Raful, Rosh Yeshivah of Ateret Torah. As we all know, Sukkos is zman simchateinu , the season of our rejoicing. But to truly understand this, we must first ask: What is genuine simchah , and when does a person truly feel happy and fulfilled? The answer begins with a fundamental human necessity—having a place in this world. The Tragedy of Placelessness In the narrative of Bereishit, when Kayin killed his brother Hevel, Hashem declared that the blood from the ground cried out for reckoning. What was the curse of Kayin? Na vanad tiyeh ba'aretz —"You shall be a perpetual wanderer on the earth." He was condemned to be an exile, stripped of root and ground. By severing the sanctity of life, Kayin lost his entitlement to exist in a defined space. There is no greater punishment than being deprived of a rightful place. Although Kayin repented and reached a compromise with Hashem, the core lesson remains. The Sfat Emet (Parashat Vayeshev 5764) expounds upon this concept within the laws of the arei miklat , the cities of refuge. He explains that by strict justice, someone who takes a life—even unwittingly—should forfeit their right to exist in this world, just like Kayin. Yet in Hashem's mercy, He created a refuge: Vesamti lecha makom asher yanus shamah —"I will assign you a place to which he may flee." Even in exile, divine compassion established a space for the displaced. In the tefillah recited after Shir Hashirim, we say: Venizkeh l'Makom shehanefashot vehaneshamot veharuchot nechtzavot misham —may we merit to arrive at the Place from which all spirits, souls, and vital breaths were hewn. That is the ultimate fulfillment: for the soul to return to its origin. When people comfort a mourner, bar minan , they say, HaMakom yenachem etchem . Many understand this to mean that the departed soul's place in Gan Eden should bring comfort. Even more than that, it means they have finally arrived at their ultimate station; they have reached their eternal makom . Entering the Sukkah: Returning to the Source This reality echoes in every facet of our earthly journey. When someone finds their rightful spouse, their shidduch , an overflowing joy takes hold because they have finally arrived at their true station in life. Why do we feel a spontaneous simchah the moment we step into the sukkah? Because the neshamah recognizes that it was not carved from the fabric of this material world. Week after week, throughout the cycle of the year, the soul incessantly pleads to break free from the constraints of the mundane. When a person crosses the threshold and enters the sukkah, enveloped by its sacred walls, an immediate sense of arrival washes over body and soul. The Imrei Emet ( Shabbat Chol HaMoed Succot)—that the Pesikta asks: Why do we build a sukkah immediately following Yom Kippur? Because if it was decreed on Yom Kippur that we must go into exile, we fulfill that exile by departing into the sukkah. And why does Hashem enter the sukkah with us? Because the Halachah states that if a student is exiled to an ir miklat , his rebbe goes into exile with him. Before a baal teshuvah repents, his sins strip away his foundation; the earth is pulled out from beneath him. What does Hashem do for us? He creates an ir miklat —He provides us with a refuge, and that refuge is the sukkah. When we step inside, pure happiness follows. Traditional sources teach that one of the most severe punishments—even beyond Gehinnom—is kaf hakela , a spiritual sling in which a soul is perpetually flung about without a resting place. Although the sukkah is designated as a dirat arai , a temporary dwelling, it is spiritually our enduring home. We do not belong to this material existence. Our true role in this world is to recognize its impermanence and anchor ourselves in what lies beyond. Hashem is called HaMakom because He is Mekomo shel olam —He is the Place of the universe; the world does not contain Him, He contains the world. Reaching our true makom means realizing that our real home is within Hashem. When we reach this sanctuary, the Ushpizin come to visit us, feeling completely at home within the shade of faith, the tzilah d'heimnuta . Joy Found Within Boundaries The greatest rejoicing in the Beit HaMikdash was Simchat Beit HaShoevah. The Rambam describes this extraordinary celebration in Hilchot Sukkah (Chapter 8, Halachah 14), emphasizing that not just anyone could lead or perform there. A person had to know their place. The leaders and the heads of the yeshivot were the ones who danced, while the rest of the nation watched from their designated spots. In Midrash Rabbah (Bereishit 34:15), the rabbis expound on the verse in Yechezkel (36:26): Vahasiroti et lev ha'even mibasarcheim —"I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a lev basar , a heart of flesh." The Midrash notes that the word basar ( בשר ) can also be read homiletically as boser ( בוסר ), meaning sour or bitter—resembling the interchange of sin and samech found in words like sotah and shotah . The Almighty promises to remove the heart that feels bitter over the success of another. True simchah , as explained by the Tiferet Yosef on Chag HaSukkot (written by Rav Mordechai Yosef Elazar Leiner of the Radzyn dynasty), arises when a person knows their exact place. When you know your place and feel comfortable in your own skin, you become genuinely sameach bechelko —content with your portion. There is no greater happiness than that. Simchat Beit HaShoevah embodied this awareness: every soul recognized where it belonged without trespassing into another's territory. That is the essence of the blessing she'asah li kol tzarki —Hashem has provided me with everything I need, and I have no reason to covet what is on someone else's plate. The Shem MiShmuel (Bamidbar, 5673) teaches that the joy of the degalim (the tribal banners in the desert) stemmed from this exact clarity: everyone knew their assigned place. There were twelve tribes and twelve paths. Each person rejoiced in their distinct path, knowing every soul possesses a designated post. These banners mirrored the celestial hosts above: the camp of Michael embodies lovingkindness, the camp of Gavriel represents awe, and each carries out its unique role. Because of this, Oseh shalom bimromav —there is peace in the heavens, without jealousy or strife. This harmony mirrors the prophetic vision of Yeshayahu (11:13) regarding the ultimate redemption: Ephraim lo yekaneh et Yehudah —Ephraim will not envy Yehudah, and Yehudah will not vex Ephraim. That was the secret of Har Sinai: Vayichan sham Yisrael —they encamped "as one person with one heart." Guarding the Sacred Four Cubits This is also the heart of Shabbat: Shevu ish tachtav —"Let every person remain in his place." Shabbat is defined by menuchah , tranquil rest. It is the time when you return to your true setting. Recall the Midrash Tanchuma on Kayin: what was the protective sign given to preserve him? It was the sign of Shabbat, as the verse says, Ot hi beini uveineichem —"It is a sign between Me and you." Shabbat grants us our rest; on Shabbat, we come home. There are divine boundaries: remain in your spot, do not step outside your realm. The Shem MiShmuel (Korach, 5677) notes that Korach opposed the concept of Shabbat because Shabbat signifies completion—the acceptance of boundaries. As the Chiddushei HaRim observed, even in spiritual aspirations, one must be content with their assigned mission. Korach refused to accept his place; he demanded what was not intended for him, and thus Korach and the spirit of Shabbat stand in direct opposition. Rav Yehudah Ades shared in the name of Dayan Wosner that every individual is granted their own four cubits ( daled amot )—roughly six feet of private space. In Halachah, if an ownerless object enters your four cubits, you acquire it; it is your personal domain. The same principle governs the laws of Shabbat: carrying an object beyond four cubits in the public domain violates the boundary, for the Torah instructs, Al yetzei ish mimkomo —"Let no person go out of their place." Yet, as Dayan Weiss noted, carrying a smartphone can dismantle that space. When you are continuously tethered to a screen, you are no longer present in your own four cubits. You lose your private world. On the Shoulders of Hashem The authentic place of the Jewish people is revealed by Rashi on Shemot (17:8): we are carried upon Hashem's shoulders. The ananei hakavod , the clouds of glory, represent those divine shoulders—which the sukkah evokes. As long as we recognize that we are carried by Hashem, we remain secure. But when we lose that awareness, we step outside the protective clouds, leaving an opening for Amalek to attack. Amalek shares the same numerical value as safek ( ספק ), meaning doubt. As the classic adage reminds us, Ein simchah kehatorat hasefeikot —there is no greater joy than the resolution of doubt. Amalek personifies uncertainty; when doubt pulls us away from our spiritual coordinates, joy disappears. When Hashem spoke to Moshe at the burning bush (Shemot 3:5), He said: HaMakom asher atah omeid alav admat kodesh hu —"The place upon which you stand is holy ground." The Chafetz Chaim remarked that people often daydream: If only I lived in that house, if only I studied in that yeshivah, if only I had been born into that family or found myself in different circumstances... But the Torah responds directly: the ground you are standing upon right now is holy. Find your designated place. Recognize where you are, remove your shoes, and connect with bare feet to the mission given to you. And that is precisely why on Yom Kippur we remove our shoes: to step fully and without barrier onto our sacred ground, anchored in our true makom before Hashem. We continue this with the Holiday of Succot and try to keep it going the entire year.

The Connection Between Yom Kippur and Sukkot Welcome to Daily Bitachon. We are currently in the days between Yom Kippur and Sukkot, and many of us are aware that Sukkot serves as a direct continuation of Yom Kippur. It is no coincidence that Sukkot follows immediately after. Many of us are familiar with the intrinsic connection between this transition and the mitzvah of the sukkah itself. The Return of the Clouds of Glory The most famous explanation comes from the Vilna Gaon. He explains that the entire process began with the Cheit Ha'eigel (sin of the Golden Calf) on the seventeenth of Tammuz. Hashem ultimately forgave us for the Golden Calf on Yom Kippur. The goal was to build the Mishkan (Tabernacle), which would bring the Shechinah (Divine Presence) down to rest among the Jewish people. Over the four days following Yom Kippur, the people gathered and prepared the materials for the Mishkan, and it was through this process that Hashem's Clouds of Glory returned. The profound insight here is that when Bnei Yisrael sinned with the Golden Calf, the Clouds of Glory departed. The clouds were an added layer of Divine affection—a spiritual luxury. Hashem continued to provide the Mahn because the people needed to eat, and He maintained the Be'er Miriam (Miriam's well) because they needed to drink. Sustenance was essential, but they lost the privilege of the Ananei HaKavod (Clouds of Glory). Those clouds only returned after Yom Kippur. This resolves a classic question: if the Clouds of Glory originally appeared when we left Egypt, why do we not celebrate them in Nisan? The Tur famously answers that if we were to sit in booths during the spring, it would not be apparent that we were doing so for the sake of a mitzvah, as people naturally sit outside when the weather turns pleasant. By dwelling in the sukkah in the autumn—when the weather cools and people normally move indoors—it is evident that our dwelling is lishmah , purely for the mitzvah. The Vilna Gaon, however, offers a deeper, internal explanation: we are not commemorating the original Clouds of Glory from the Exodus. Rather, we are celebrating the Clouds of Glory that were restored to us after our sin was forgiven on Yom Kippur. We sinned, we achieved atonement, and Hashem demonstrated His enduring love by returning His protective embrace. That is the foundational link between the sukkah and Yom Kippur. Connecting the Arba Minim to Forgiveness How do the Arba Minim (the Four Species) fit into this theme of forgiveness? At a basic level, Sukkot is Chag Ha'asif —the harvest festival. It is the time of gathering the produce, so we wave the prime agricultural species of Eretz Yisrael to thank Hashem for our sustenance. But how do the Four Species reflect the themes of teshuvah and the cleansing of sin from Yom Kippur? To understand this, look closely at the Al Cheit confessions recited throughout Yom Kippur. A striking number of these confessions specifically focus on individual bodily organs: אימוץ הלב – Hardening of the heart ביטוי שפתים – Careless utterances of the lips דיבור פה – Harsh or improper speech הרהור הלב – Impure thoughts of the heart וידוי פה – Insincere verbal confession חוזק יד – Coercive or wrongful use of the hand טומאת שפתים – Impurity of the lips לשון הרע – Slanderous speech (which Rav Shlomo Wolbe noted literally implies a "damaged tongue") נטיית גרון – Haughtiness expressed through an outstretched neck סיקור עין – Prying, inappropriate gazes שיח שפתותינו – Misguided speech of the lips עינים רמות – Haughty, arrogant eyes עזות מצח – A brazen forehead or unyielding attitude קלות ראש – Lightheadedness or levity of the head קשיות עורף – A stiffened, obstinate neck תמהון לבב – Confusion and turmoil of the heart Our confessions focus relentlessly on our physical limbs. The Spiritual Anatomy of Man As Rav Wolbe pointed out, our physical organs perform our actions, and our sins leave a direct spiritual mark upon them. The Chafetz Chaim elaborates on this in his introduction to the third volume of the Mishnah Berurah . Man possesses 248 limbs and 365 sinews, which correspond directly to the 248 positive commandments and 365 negative prohibitions of the Torah. Every mitzvah nurtures and animates its corresponding spiritual organ. Fulfilling a mitzvah properly maintains the health of that limb; neglecting it causes spiritual impairment. Just as with the human body, certain mitzvot correspond to vital organs like the brain or the heart—such as Shabbos and emunah (faith)—without which spiritual life cannot survive. Other mitzvot parallel secondary extremities like fingers or toes; they are valuable and whole, but their lack is not immediately fatal. The Chafetz Chaim adds a sobering insight: after 120 years, when a soul enters Olam Haba (the World to Come), its spiritual health will be visible for all to see. If someone was careless with their tefillin , the spiritual arm corresponding to that mitzvah may appear broken or in a sling. As Kohelet states: סוֹף דָּבָר הַכֹּל נִשְׁמָע, אֶת הָאֱלֹקִים יְרָא וְאֶת מִצְוֺתָיו שְׁמוֹר, כִּי זֶה כָּל הָאָדָם . "The end of the matter, all having been heard: fear God and keep His commandments, for this is the entirety of man." Our ultimate identity and spiritual form in eternity are determined by how we care for the limbs of our soul through our mitzvot in this world. The Forty-Day Spiritual Spa This brings us back to the work we began on Rosh Chodesh Elul. Rav Yerucham Levovitz once visited the mineral baths at Carlsbad and overheard two arriving travelers say, "Let's leave our luggage here and go straight to the baths!" They understood that when you enter a healing spa, you take advantage of every single moment. Rav Yerucham noted that the month of Elul is precisely that—a spiritual spa. It is an intensive period dedicated to nursing our spiritual bodies back into optimal shape. We spent forty days immersed in this regimen: prayer, introspective discipline, and careful self-examination. Finally, on Yom Kippur, we reached the culmination of the treatment. Through the Al Cheit prayers, we methodically examined and purified every spiritual limb, emerging renewed, atoned, and spiritually whole. The Arba Minim: Preserving the Results Having emerged from Yom Kippur in peak spiritual condition, how do we express and protect this renewed state? We take the Arba Minim , which correspond directly to the key organs of our body: The Lulav: Represents the spine. The spine is the structural foundation of the body from which all primary nerves branch. Kabbalistic tradition notes that, including the rings binding the species, the lulav incorporates 18 distinct ties (a practice prominent in Sephardic custom), corresponding to the 18 vertebrae of the human spine as taught by the Arizal. The Etrog: Represents the heart—pure, vibrant, and free of blemishes. The Hadassim: Represent the eyes, fresh and clear. The Aravot: Represent the lips, upright and cleansed of improper speech. We hold these species together: pristine, fresh, whole, and beautiful. They represent the spiritually cleansed body we worked so hard to build over the Yamim Noraim. Holding the Four Species serves as a mirror and a reminder: "Look at your heart. Look at your eyes, your lips, and your spine. Everything has been reset, purified, and aligned. Do not ruin it now." When someone spends forty days on an intensive fitness and wellness regimen, working out daily and refining their diet, they do not discard their progress the very next day. They stay mindful of their choices and maintain their discipline. Every time we pick up the lulav and etrog on Sukkot, we are reminded of the intensive spiritual labor of the preceding forty days. They stand before us as a physical blueprint of our spiritual health, urging us to guard that purity, preserve our strength, and remain spiritually whole throughout the coming year.

Welcome to Daily Bitachon, a special Erev Yom Kippur edition. Avot DeRabbi Natan—an expanded commentary on Pirkei Avot—quotes Rabbi Yochanan ben Dahavai in chapter 27, who tells us: do not distance yourself from a measure that has no limit, and do not distance yourself from a job that has no end. This is comparable to a man taking buckets of water from the ocean and pouring them onto dry land. The ocean is not emptied, and the dry land is not filled. Eventually, he grows weary and frustrated. Another man approaches him and asks, "Foolish one, why are you getting upset? Every single day, you receive a gold coin from your employer." In other words, this man completely misunderstood his mission: his employer never expected him to drain the ocean. He simply wants him to show up, do the work each day, and receive his daily wage for every single effort. This teaching expands on the famous Mishnah in Pirkei Avot (2:16), where Rabbi Tarfon teaches: it is not your duty to finish the work, but neither are you at liberty to neglect it. If you have studied much Torah, you will receive great reward, for your Employer is trustworthy to pay you for your labor. The Bartenura explains that one should never think, "Since I can never master the entire Torah, why should I even bother trying?" God is not like a mortal employer who only pays when the entire project is completed. He pays for every single moment and every individual step. The Chasid Yaavetz notes that Rabbi Tarfon is cautioning us against this exact trap. Spiritual work is fundamentally different from material labor: in Avodat Hashem, every single unit of effort is an end in itself. When constructing a physical building, an individual brick is merely a means to an end; on its own, it serves little purpose. With Torah and mitzvot, however, every action is an ultimate goal because the primary objective is connecting to God. Every ounce of service establishes that connection immediately. The Chafetz Chaim expounds on this passage, applying it specifically to guarding one's speech (In the introduction to his his sefer shemirat halashon ), though it holds true for every area of life. He explains that the Yetzer Hara constantly tries to discourage us from undertaking monumental spiritual projects. The evil inclination whispers: "What are you actually gaining from this? Do you honestly believe you can guard your tongue your entire life without ever stumbling? Your resolve won't last more than a day or two. And even during those two days, do you think you'll do it properly? You live in the real world, surrounded by people. Why waste your energy on a task with no end?" Rabbi Yochanan ben Dahavai refutes this mindset entirely, addressing the Yetzer Hara's arguments head-on. First: "It will only last a day or two." Even if the Yetzer Hara is correct, does that mean we should give up entirely? Imagine walking along the seashore and discovering diamonds washing up onto the sand. Would you refuse to bend down and gather them simply because you can only carry a few? If that holds true for physical wealth, it is infinitely truer for spiritual connection. The Vilna Gaon taught that for every single second a person restrains their speech, they merit a hidden, transcendent light that no angel or creature can fathom. Mishlei (2:4) instructs: "If you seek it like silver and search for it as for hidden treasures..." Just as one would eagerly scramble to collect even one or two loose pearls, we must treat every small spiritual achievement with the same urgency. A well-known parable illustrates this through a young girl selling vegetables in the marketplace. When a thief overturned her cart and bystanders began grabbing the scattered produce, she froze, helpless and weeping. A wise observer urged her: "Why are you just standing there crying? Start grabbing for yourself!" The same applies to our divine service: even if the Yetzer Hara robs you of focus for most of your prayer, seize whatever remains. Fight for the final words. That leads to the second complaint: "I cannot do it perfectly anyway." Consider a person who refuses to go to work, arguing, "Why bother? I will never become a multimillionaire." The obvious reply is that failing to attain extraordinary wealth is no reason to abandon your livelihood altogether. As Shlomo HaMelech declared in Kohelet (9:10): "Whatever your hand finds to do within your power, do it." You might not finish the task, but that is no excuse to withhold your effort. We learn this directly from Moshe Rabbeinu. In Masechet Makkot (10a), the Gemara analyzes Devarim (4:41): "Then Moshe designated three cities [of refuge] across the Jordan." Halachically, these cities could not provide sanctuary until Yehoshua later established the remaining cities in the land of Israel. Moshe was fully aware that these cities would remain non-functional during his lifetime. Why bother? The Rambam explains in his commentary on Avot (4:2) that Moshe lived by a single principle: "When a mitzvah comes my way, I will seize it." Adds the Rambam "If Moshe Rabbeinu—the greatest prophet and the pinnacle of human spiritual perfection—eagerly pursued even an incomplete mitzvah, how much more must we cherish whatever small measures we can attain?" As the secular adage notes, "Perfect is the enemy of good." The Gemara in Menachot (110a) offers the divine perspective: "Whether one does much or one does little, what matters most is that one directs their heart toward Heaven." The Yetzer Hara manifests in subtle, insidious ways. Beyond the cartoonish trope of an external tempter, Hashem built internal psychological tendencies into our nature that the Yetzer Hara exploits. One of the most destructive is perfectionism. At its root, perfectionism often stems from subtle arrogance ( gaavah ). We crave flawless performance as a psychological shield against shame, vulnerability, and the fear of inadequacy. Yet perfection belongs exclusively to Hashem; accepting our limitations is an essential act of humility. As Mishlei (24:16) teaches, "A righteous man falls seven times and rises." Righteousness is defined not by never falling, but by having the humility to rise and begin again. Perfectionism breeds a destructive cognitive distortion: all-or-nothing thinking. It insists that anything short of complete triumph is total failure. In the Perakim section of Nefesh HaChaim , Rav Chaim of Volozhin interprets the verse, "Every inclination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually" (Bereishit 6:5). He notes that the Yetzer Hara's primary strategy is not merely inciting wrongdoing; it is the incessant, demoralizing inner critique whispering: "You are worthless; you are inadequate." When an endeavor must be completely flawless, it generates overwhelming anxiety and tension. Paralyzed by high stakes, a person concludes it is safer to do nothing at all. This resembles someone who refuses to host guests for a mitzvah simply because their tableware is incomplete. This is why we declare at a siyum: "We toil and they toil; we toil and receive reward, while they toil and do not receive reward." In secular pursuits, labor is merely a vehicle; reward depends strictly on output and finished deliverables. In the Torah's economy, however, God rewards the amal —the sincere effort and toil itself. We recite this specifically upon completing a tractate to prevent arrogance or misunderstanding. The celebration is not merely that a milestone was achieved, but that sustained, honest labor was offered along the way. A perfectionist never truly celebrates; reaching a goal brings only fleeting relief before they raise the bar to an impossible, punishing height. As we enter Yom Kippur, our task is to dismantle these two foundational lies of the Yetzer Hara: Lie #1: "It will only last a day or two." The truth: every single second of connection is an eternal, irreplaceable triumph. Lie #2: "You can't do it perfectly anyway." The truth: Hashem asks for sincere, dedicated effort, not perfection. When we internalize these truths, we free ourselves to commit wholeheartedly to real growth—fully aware that our efforts may be fragile, and confident that they are deeply cherished by Hashem.

Welcome to Daily ביטחון , a special Friday edition for שבת שובה . We are going to start with the מדרש רבה on בראשית 22:13 . The מדרש is talking about קין , stating that when he walked away from God, he departed like one attempting to deceive the Almighty—meaning his תשובה was not wholehearted. The next line of the מדרש continues: פגע בו אדם הראשון . He met up with אדם הראשון , and אדם asked him, "So, what happened with your judgment?" קין answered, "I repented and arrived at a compromise with God." אדם then began to slap himself on the face and said, "Such is the power of תשובה , and I did not know?" Immediately, אדם arose and recited the מזמור in תהילים 92:1: מזמור שיר ליום השבת טוב להודות לה׳ —"A song for שבת ; it is good to thank השם ." Now, what exactly is going on here? What does this have to do with שבת ? מדרש number two, found in מדרש תנחומא (בראשית, פרק י׳) , says that God placed an אות —a sign—upon קין to protect him. What was that sign? The מדרש תנחומא explains that it was שבת that protected him, as it says in שמות 31: ביני ובין ישראל אות היא לעולם —"Between Me and the children of Israel, it is an everlasting sign." The sign of protection was שבת itself. Just as שבת protected אדם, שבת protected קין . This introduces a fascinating turn in the narrative. שבת protected אדם —perhaps אדם did not fully realize it at the time, because his punishment was delayed until מוצאי שבת due to the lingering אור הגנוז (the hidden light). So שבת was already working for אדם , and it worked for קין as well, and it seems אדם הראשון only fully grasped this through קין . Regardless, how exactly is שבת a protection for קין ? What did אדם הראשון see in קין 's protection that made him realize, "Oh, if only I had known"? The ספר עבודת ישראל on פרשת בראשית —authored by the קאזשניצער מגיד, רב ישראל האפשטיין (1737–1814), a student of the מגיד of מעזריטש and רב אלימלך of ליזענסק —addresses this with a question: What does it mean that קין was decreed to become a wanderer? Anyone can technically choose to stay wherever they want, so what forced him to wander? The answer is that God placed within him an internal dread—a pervasive anxiety—such that he could never feel at peace wherever he was. The עבודת ישראל explains that if קין had been able to connect properly to הקדוש ברוך הוא , all these fears would have dissipated, and the harsh judgment would have been sweetened. But the curse itself was that his mind was clouded, preventing him from reconnecting to השם . True ביטחון involves cleaving ( דבקות ) to השם , and that cleaving is what shields a person. Because קין lacked that clarity, he lived in continuous fear and anxiety, constantly on the run. Therefore, what protected him and mitigated his decree was שבת , because שבת granted him the capacity for מנוחה (rest). שבת brought inner peace. It enabled him to reconnect to הקדוש ברוך הוא , granting him a sense of reprieve. When אדם saw the power of שבת to bring מנוחה —which ultimately fosters דבקות —he was awestruck. He exclaimed: מזמור שיר ליום השבת , a song for the day that restores peace of mind. That is approach number one. Approach number two comes from the חתם סופר on שבת שובה . He explains that when אדם met קין, אדם knew what the מדרש revealed: קין 's תשובה was not wholehearted. Had it been wholehearted, he would have received complete forgiveness rather than a compromise. That is why אדם said, "I did not realize the power of תשובה "—he had not realized that even a flawed, incomplete תשובה brings atonement. The ספר פרי צדיק (also on שבת שובה, אות י״ג ) builds on this theme, citing a פסיקתא where the Jewish people ask, "If we do תשובה , will it be accepted?" God points to קין as proof. Why would they question whether תשובה works? Doesn't the תורה explicitly teach that תשובה is accepted? The answer is that they were unaware of this lower tier of repentance. They understood תשובה מאהבה (out of love) and תשובה מיראה (out of awe/fear), but they did not know about תשובה from יסורים (suffering)—the kind of repentance born after קין was battered by a miserable life. They did not realize that a self-interested תשובה , done simply to escape suffering, could still find favor. אדם הראשון had assumed the same: "Having been expelled from גן עדן , how could I turn around and do תשובה expecting השם to accept me?" Once he heard from קין that even this level works, he broke into the song of שבת . Once again: what does this have to do with שבת ? Here we can turn to רב יעקב קמנצקי in the ספר אמת ליעקב . He asks: Why is this psalm titled מזמור שיר ליום השבת ? The content does not overtly speak about שבת . It speaks of individuals facing deep adversity ( אמונתך בלילות —faith in the dark nights); it speaks of the wicked flourishing; it addresses profound existential questions. What connects this to שבת ? Rav Yaakov explains through the מדרש that משה רבינו requested a day of rest for the Jewish people in Egypt. This is why we say ישמח משה במתנת חלקו ("Moshe rejoiced in the gift of his portion")—Moshe instituted שבת in מצרים , and God affirmed it as the holy day of rest. What did משה רבינו do on that day of rest? He wrote eleven scrolls of חיזוק , which correspond to the eleven chapters of תהילים authored by משה , beginning with תפילה למשה . This מדרש is referenced in connection פרעה commanded that their workload be increased to prevent them from resting, precisely because he wanted to strip away their opportunity to study these scrolls and draw weekly encouragement that הקדוש ברוך הוא would redeem them. The songs משה composed were geared specifically toward this message: even when you are broken in גלות , you can still return. Even if it is not מאהבה or מיראה , but merely ויאנחו —a cry stemming from sheer exhaustion and pain. As משה wrote in תהילים 90: תשב אנוש עד דכא —let man return even when crushed to the dust ( דכא , meaning דכדוכה של נפש , a pounded spirit). Furthermore, the opening letters of מזמור שיר ליום השבת form the acronym למשה . How do we reconcile whether this מזמור was composed by משה or אדם הראשון ? The מדרש in 22:13 explains that אדם הראשון originally uttered it, it was later forgotten, and משה רבינו restored it. טוב להודות לה׳ . This brings us to a final, beautiful insight. The word להודות means to give thanks or praise, but its root is also identical to וידוי (confession). It is good to confess to השם on שבת . Yet, how can that be, when formal וידוי is generally omitted on שבת ? The answer is that there are two forms of confession. The root י-ד-ה (as in מודה במקצת ) means to admit. Saying "thank you" is an admission of dependence; it acknowledges that you are indebted to another. That is the הודאה of שבת . It is a distinct form of confession: realizing how much we receive from God, and recognizing how little we reciprocate. It is a confession framed not by self-flagellation, but by humbled gratitude. As we enter שבת שובה , let us internalize the power of שבת . Let us embrace שבת 's ability to restore peace of mind so that we can reconnect to הקדוש ברוך הוא . Let us recognize that even if we arrive battered by the exhaustion of the workweek, our תשובה is embraced. We find our day of rest, look back at a week of personal גלות , hard work, and endless השתדלות , and remember that שבת shares its root with לשוב —to return to God. We may be turning to שבת not only out of pure longing, but out of a desire to escape the weariness of the week. Even when we stand at the point of דכדוכה של נפש , bruised and exhausted, הקדוש ברוך הוא welcomes us back. That is the essence of מזמור שיר ליום השבת . That is what אדם הראשון learned from קין : a person can return even under duress and distress. The same מדרש , in discussing תשובה born of suffering, cites King מנשה calling out to God from within a boiling cauldron, and King אחאב humbling himself under severe pressure—both of whom were accepted. Surely, then, God has an open door for us. That is the true spirit of שבת שובה. הקדוש ברוך הוא yearns for our return, even when prompted by our hardships. He provided us with a day of מנוחה to restore our connection to Him, despite our missteps. אדם הראשון faltered on ראש השנה , and every year we work to repair that root. Through שבת שובה , we are handed the timeless lesson of אדם . Take full advantage of this שבת . Have a שבת שלום , and בעזרת השם , may we all merit to achieve true תשובה .

Welcome to Daily Bitachon. Today, we are going to discuss Sefer Yonah. We read Yonah for the Maftir on Yom Kippur afternoon, and it carries profound lessons for our lives. The Timeline and the Turnaround In chapter three, verse four, the verse states: "Vayachel Yonah lavo va'ir mahalach yom echad..." Yonah entered Nineveh, walked a day's journey, cried out, and said: "Od arba'im yom veNineveh nehepachet" ("In forty days, Nineveh will be overturned"). The Vilna Gaon notes that Yonah began this mission on the first day of Elul. He warned them that forty days remained until the decree would be sealed on Yom Kippur. The Rishonim raise a famous question: Nineveh was never destroyed, so was Yonah a false prophet? The answer is that Nineveh was overturned: they turned over a new leaf. Because of their internal turnaround, the physical destruction was averted. Every person faces this choice: what kind of turnaround will you choose? The Wake-Up Call: From Elul to Yom Kippur This connection begins right on Rosh Chodesh Elul. For Sephardic communities, Selichot begin the very next day. In Sefer Yonah, when Yonah flees Hashem on the ship, a storm erupts. Yonah retreats down to the hull to sleep, and the captain confronts him: "Mah lecha nirdam? Kum kera el Elokecha!" ("What are you doing sleeping? Get up and call out to your God!"). This directly mirrors the opening line of Selichot: "Ben adam, mah lecha nirdam? Kum kera betachanunim" ("Son of man, why do you sleep? Arise with supplication!"). Yonah was asleep, we are asleep, and we must be awakened. The Allegory of the Soul (Zohar II, 199b) The Zohar explains that the story of Yonah is an allegory for human life in this world: Yonah (The Soul): Yonah boarding the ship represents the soul descending into the body. Yonah shares a root with hona'ah (oppression/distress), reflecting how the soul endures the constraints and spiritual distress of this world. (Parenthetically, Rishonim note that the dove is vulnerable and has no natural defenses, which is why it is offered on the Mizbe'ach —just as the Jewish people are perpetually vulnerable and afflicted in exile). The Ship and the Sea: The ship navigating the turbulent sea represents a person navigating life, constantly on the verge of breaking apart. The Storm: The storm represents divine judgment. When a person sins and attempts to flee from their Master, ignoring the World to Come, Hashem sends a storm of strict judgment—a spiritual wake-up call demanding an accounting of deeds. Yonah Asleep: This represents someone struck by crisis or illness who remains spiritually unconscious, failing to awaken and repent even from their sickbed. The Captain (The Yetzer HaTov ): The shipmaster represents the good inclination, shaking the soul awake to say: "There is no time to sleep. You are being summoned to judgment for everything you have done. Repent!" The captain's interrogation of Yonah mirrors the ultimate soul-reckoning: "What is your occupation?" Reflect on how you have spent your life, and confess it before your Master. "Where do you come from?" Remember your humble physical origin so you do not stand before Hashem in arrogance. "What is your country?" Remember you were formed from dust and will return to dust. Where do you truly come from, and where are you going? "From what people are you?" You descend from Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov. Reconnect to your heritage and ask yourself: "When will my deeds reach the deeds of my forefathers?" The Illusion of Sleep This recurring theme of awakening bridges the entire season: Rosh Hashanah: The Rambam explains that while the shofar is a divine decree ( gezerat hakatuv ), it carries a clear hint: "Uru yeshenim mishnatchem, vehanirdamim hakitzu mitardematechem" ("Awake, you sleepers, from your sleep; and you who slumber, arise from your slumber; inspect your deeds, repent, and remember your Creator"). The Yerushalmi: The Talmud Yerushalmi cautions against sleeping on Rosh Hashanah day, teaching that if a person sleeps, their Mazal (spiritual advocate above) sleeps. It is a tangible reminder to stay spiritually alert. Yom Kippur: The season culminates at Minchah with the reading of Yonah—the ultimate cry to wake up. What does it actually mean to be "asleep"? The Rambam explains that the "sleepers" are those who forget truth in the vanities of time, squandering their lives on emptiness that cannot save them. They are physically awake, but living in a fantasy. Rav Tzadok HaKohen writes in Machshavat Charutz that anyone immersed in this world's illusions is effectively sleeping while awake. Just as a sleeping person experiences vivid, fake dreams, an unconscious person walks through life wearing virtual reality glasses—seeing an illusion instead of truth. On Rosh Hashanah, three books are opened: the tzaddikim (the living), the resha'im (the dead), and the beinonim (those in the middle—all of us). What sits directly between life and death? Sleep. Chazal teach that sleep is one-sixtieth of death. The beinoni is neither fully alive nor dead; we are spiritually asleep. The entire mission of the Aseret Yemei Teshuvah—beginning on Rosh Chodesh Elul, moving through Rosh Hashanah, and culminating in the Minchah Maftir of Yonah on Yom Kippur—is to shake off the illusion, heed the call, and finally wake up.

Welcome to Daily Bitachon. We are now in Aseret Yemei Teshuvah . Everyone looks at Aseret Yemei Teshuvah just as it sounds: ten days of teshuvah , which means "to return." But the Rambam explains the pasuk that serves as the source for the power of Aseret Yemei Teshuvah : "Dirshu Hashem behimtzo" —seek God when He is to be found; "Kera'uhu bihyoto karov" —call out to Him when He is close. There are two phrases used here to describe Aseret Yemei Teshuvah : He is to be found, and He is close. Since He is to be found, return to Him and find Him. And since He is close, call out to Him. This means that not only is Aseret Yemei Teshuvah an auspicious time for returning, but it is also an especially auspicious time for prayer. We must take advantage of this period to pray. There is a beautiful tefilah from the Pele Yoetz in his sefer Beit Tefilah . In his introduction, he cites a famous Gemara: anyone who is able to pray for mercy on behalf of their fellow and fails to do so is called a sinner. We learn this from the Gemara in Makkot (11b), which notes that the Kohen Gadol bore a unique responsibility regarding those exiled to an ir miklat (city of refuge). The accidental killer had to remain there until the death of the Kohen Gadol —which effectively placed the Kohen Gadol on a "most-wanted" list. People wanted the Kohen Gadol to die so that their exiled relatives could go free. In fact, the Gemara says that the mothers of the Kohanim Gedolim would bring treats and clothing to the refugees to make them comfortable, hoping they would not pray with intense fervor for the Kohen Gadol to pass away. The Gemara asks: Why should the Kohen Gadol bear this consequence? The Gemara answers that he should have prayed for mercy for his entire generation so that such a tragedy would never occur in the first place, and because he did not, he was held accountable. There are two profound lessons here regarding prayer: The power of the Kohen Gadol : His prayers could have prevented tragedies across the entire nation. The power of someone who committed manslaughter: Even someone sitting in a city of refuge due to fatal negligence possesses prayer powerful enough to impact the Kohen Gadol's life. The mothers went out of their way to appease them to prevent those prayers from being answered. Connecting to this idea, the Pele Yoetz composed a tefilah specifically for Aseret Yemei Teshuvah , placing each of us into the role of someone who has the power and duty to pray for others. You might wonder: What changed? Do we suddenly become Kohanim Gedolim during these ten days? In a sense, yes. This is an eit ratzon (a time of divine favor), and we are granted extraordinary spiritual leverage during Aseret Yemei Teshuvah . We have a responsibility to use that power properly. There is another area where we step into the role of the Kohen Gadol . The shofar cannot come from a cow or ox; it must be from a kosher animal like a ram. (A ram is ideal because it evokes the Akeidat Yitzchak , but an ox is strictly forbidden because it recalls the sin of the Golden Calf.) The general principle is that gold or reminders of the Golden Calf are excluded lifnai velifnim —inside the Holy of Holies—so as not to act as a prosecutor before God. Outside the Holy of Holies, it is permitted. Yet when we blow the shofar , we are not in the Beit HaMikdash ; there is no physical Holy of Holies standing, and we might be blowing it right on Ocean Parkway! Why should the ox horn be disqualified there? The Gemara answers that because the shofar serves to bring our remembrance directly before God, the act itself is considered as though we are standing inside the Holy of Holies. On Rosh Hashanah, we take on the status of the Kohen Gadol entering the innermost sanctuary. And based on the Pele Yoetz, that elevated status and closeness to God extend through the entire ten days. We are near to God just like the Kohen Gadol , which means we must seize this unique window to pray for other people. The Pele Yoetz's prayer is thorough, covering every conceivable detail a person could need in life—down to praying that in old age, our teeth remain healthy. Every single detail matters. People often say, "I have no time; I'm too busy." But make time during Aseret Yemei Teshuvah . Consider everyday frustrations: recently, my flight was diverted due to bad weather, circled for thirty minutes, landed at the wrong airport, required an Uber transfer, the return leg got canceled, and my carry-on bag was forcibly checked. When I vented to someone, they simply said, "Well, at least the plane landed safely." That is true, but all of these details—both the major outcomes and the minor disruptions—are determined on Rosh Hashanah and sealed during Aseret Yemei Teshuvah . Let's use this time wisely. Rabbeinu Yonah wrote that if we truly appreciated the gravity of these days, we would take off from work entirely. Even if we cannot do that, we must dedicate real, focused time. Rav Wolbe taught that teshuvah takes time—and prayer takes time, too. Let's take full advantage of these fleeting, powerful days for both teshuvah (returning) and tefilah (prayer).

Daily Bitachon: Bitachon and Rosh Hashanah Welcome to Daily Bitachon. Today, we focus on our core mission— bitachon (trust in Hashem)—and explore how it fundamentally defines our approach to Rosh Hashanah. The Tur ( Orach Chaim 581) quotes a Midrash on the verse, "Mi goy gadol..." —"For who is a great nation that has God so close to them?" The Midrash asks: Which nation is like the Jewish people, who know the customs and ways of their God, and understand how He judges? Analyzing this phrase, the Beit Yosef asks: Where in the word gadol (great) do we see that we know the ways of God? He explains that the word gadol shares a root with gidul —to be nurtured or raised. We are a nation raised by God, living, so to speak, inside the King's palace. Because of that intimacy, we know His ways and understand how His heavenly court operates. When an ordinary person stands trial before an earthly ruler with their life hanging in the balance, they dress in black, let their beard grow unkempt, neglect their grooming, and tremble in absolute uncertainty. Think of a fallen leader being led out in prison garb, utterly broken compared to his former days of power. Yet the Jewish people do not act this way on the Day of Judgment. We dress in festive white, cut our hair, groom our beards, trim our nails, partake in lavish meals, and rejoice. That is not how people facing a grave tribunal normally behave. Why do we do this? The Tur explains: because we know Hashem will perform a miracle for us. It is as if we are celebrating the miracle in advance. While our ultimate rejoicing culminates on Sukkot, we enter Rosh Hashanah already confident in that miraculous redemption. It resembles a childless couple buying a crib, or an unmarried woman purchasing her wedding dress with steadfast faith. We rejoice because we trust that Hashem will grant us life and vindication even before the trial concludes. Rav Wolbe writes in Alei Shur (Vol. 2, p. 434) that, in truth, we ought to be dancing with joy when we recite Aleinu on Rosh Hashanah; it is only the solemn eimata dedina (awe of judgment) that restrains us from breaking into dance. Rav Chaim Friedlander raises a profound question here: Does this unwavering confidence not border on presumption or false security? Judgment is intensely serious, and who among us can honestly proclaim, "My heart is pure from sin"? On what merit are we relying? He answers through the verse itself: Mi goy gadol —who is a great nation . This certainty does not belong to the solitary individual standing strictly on their own record. When evaluated as isolated individuals, we pass before Him kivnei maron —like single sheep—and none can guarantee their outcome. Rather, this bitachon stems from being an inseparable part of the collective Jewish people. The Jewish nation as a whole is promised eternal continuity and boundless heavenly mercy. Therefore, an essential prerequisite to this bitachon is nullifying oneself to the tzibbur —integrating fully into the community. When you stand embedded within the collective Jewish people, you partake in Hashem's overarching promise to perform a miracle. Where else do we find this principle that reliance itself forces open the gates of salvation? At the splitting of the sea ( Kriyat Yam Suf ). The Ohr HaChaim HaKadosh explains that at the Red Sea, the attribute of strict justice ( middat hadin ) prosecuted the Jewish people fiercely, asking why they deserved salvation any more than the Egyptians. Strict justice stood as a barrier against the miracle. Hashem then told Moshe, "Speak to the children of Israel and let them journey forward." The Ohr HaChaim comments: Hashem was telling them to advance based solely on reliance upon the miracle. Marching whole-heartedly into the waters with absolute trust tilted the heavenly scales—as he writes, great is faith and trust in its power to decide the verdict for good. The Nefesh HaChaim echoes this principle. When Hashem asked Moshe, "Why do you cry out to Me?" He meant that the outcome rested upon the people themselves: if they stepped forward into the raging waters with unshakeable emunah and bitachon , the sea would split. The Imrei Emet explains that this is precisely what occurs every Rosh Hashanah. We step into the Day of Judgment leaning entirely on Hashem, trusting in His ultimate promise of life and continuity. This bitachon is not passive wishful thinking; it is an active reliance upon a divine guarantee. This intimate bond between the splitting of the sea and Rosh Hashanah is woven throughout our prayers. In the Musaf service of Rosh Hashanah, we recite thirty foundational verses. The first unit is Malchiyot (Hashem's Sovereignty), and its opening verse is: "Hashem yimloch le'olam va'ed" —"Hashem will reign forever and ever." This line concludes Aleinu , which originates from the Rosh Hashanah liturgy. Where does "Hashem yimloch le'olam va'ed" come from? It is from Az Yashir , sung at the shores of the sea. Thus, the very first verse affirming Hashem's eternal kingdom directly evokes Kriyat Yam Suf —a miracle catalyzed entirely by bitachon . These two moments mirror each other: the reliance that split the sea, and the reliance that carries us through Rosh Hashanah each year. Furthermore, the fourth verse of Zichronot states: "Zecher asah lenifle'otav, channun verachum Hashem" —"He made a memorial for His wonders; gracious and merciful is Hashem." Why is creating a remembrance of His wonders described as an act of grace and mercy? The Chida cites the Arizal, who taught that every year, the unique spiritual light present at the original miracle shines anew. Time is not merely linear; we cycle through the spiritual seasons. On Pesach, the light that shattered the chains of Egypt is rekindled as zman cheiruteinu . When we remember a miracle, we tap into that recurring reservoir of divine energy and reignite its power in our personal lives. That is why we recall the Exodus every single day right before the Amidah —to evoke the reality of the sea splitting. What original miracles of Rosh Hashanah do we reawaken on this day? First, the very creation of Adam was an act of pure, unmerited mercy. The ministering angels argued against creating man, foreseeing that humanity would sin and corrupt the world. Yet Hashem created Adam anyway. That miracle recurs each year: Hashem grants us another year of breath, potential, and life, even when our merits alone do not warrant it. Second, on the very day Adam was created, he sinned. Strict justice demanded immediate death, per the warning: "On the day you eat of it, you shall surely die." Yet Hashem mercifully defined that "day" according to His own calendar—where a day is a thousand years—granting Adam a long life. This divine mitigation of judgment ( hamtakat hadin ) awakens anew for us every Rosh Hashanah. Rosh Hashanah is built on the reality that we rely on Hashem to perform a miracle for us, just as He did at the sea. I once heard a beautiful thought from Chacham Yehuda Moallem: The Midrash indicates that the sea did not split all at once for everyone; it split when the water reached a person's nostrils and they realized, "I have reached the end of my natural strength; I need Hashem." Chacham Yehuda explained: If a person is humble and keeps their head bowed low, the water reaches their nose quickly, and the miracle arrives early. But if a person walks with their head held high and their nose in the air, it takes much longer for them to realize they are in trouble. This is the essence of the bent shofar—it represents our humility. When we set aside our ego and recognize that we can accomplish nothing on our own, we cast all our trust upon Hashem. That humility activates the miraculous salvation of Rosh Hashanah: the grace that brought Adam into existence and the mercy that softened his judgment. Recognizing that miracle brings salvation in its own right. As the piyut states: "Shir v'yosha mocheh pesha" —the song of Az Yashir erases sins. Celebrating God's miracles opens the channel for total forgiveness. When we recite that foundational verse in Musaf— "Hashem yimloch le'olam va'ed" —let us internalize it with the same clarity and trust our ancestors had at the shores of the sea. Have a wonderful day.

Welcome to Daily Bitachon. We are presenting a special Sunday edition today because time is running short, and we need to take advantage of every possible opportunity to prepare for Rosh Hashanah. This is our final class on Hakarat Hatov (gratitude), though there is always much more to say. Today, we will explore how Hakarat Hatov is essential for both our Avodat Hashem (service of God) and our Teshuvah (repentance). The Role of Hakarat Hatov in Teshuvah Rabbenu Yonah, in Shaarei Teshuvah (First Gate, Letter 12), discusses Charata (regret for sin). He writes: " ולא זכר יוצרו אשר בראו יש מאין "—regret that you did not think of your Creator, who made you something from nothing. Let's pause here, as this is a profound way to view ourselves. We recognize that the world was created yesh me'ayin (ex nihilo, something from nothing), but we often fail to realize that we, too, were created from nothing. Though we biologically come from something, fundamentally, we simply arrived on the scene. Rabbenu Yonah continues: " וחסד עשה עמו וידו תנחהו בכל עת ונוצר נפשו בכל רגע "—God did a kindness to create me; I did nothing beforehand to deserve it. His hand directs us at all times, holding our hands, and every moment He is actively recreating our soul. As we say in our prayers, " מחדש בטובו בכל יום תמיד מעשה בראשית "—God constantly renews the act of creation daily, and He is renewing our souls as well. The Tomer Devorah echoes this, explaining that at every moment, God is actively pumping life energy into creation and into every single individual. With all of this in mind, Rabbenu Yonah asks: " איך מלאו ליבו להכעיס לפניו "—How could your heart allow you to anger Him? Where is your Hakarat Hatov ? This profound realization is a core component of Charata ; it is exactly what a person should be thinking during repentance. The Minimum Standard for Avodat Hashem Now, we turn to our actual Avodat Hashem . The Chovot HaLevavot , in Shaar Avodat Elokim (The Gate of Service, Chapter 7), reminds us that the ultimate purpose of Shaar HaBechinah (recognizing God's goodness and having Hakarat Hatov ) is to bring us to serve Him. At the end of the chapter, the author addresses a critical question: What is the minimum level of serving Hashem? What is the baseline below which a person fails to fulfill their duty, and by which the continuation of God's goodness toward them is secured? If we fulfill our foundational duties, Hashem will continue to bless us. The Chovot HaLevavot outlines 10 points: Do not use God's blessings to rebel against Him. His goodness must never be an excuse or cause for sin. Do not become so consumed with the abundance of your blessings that you grow negligent in praise, thanksgiving, and service. You cannot enjoy the beautiful life and comfortable bed He gave you to the point of refusing to get out of bed to serve Him. You cannot use what He gave you against Him. Constantly speak of Hashem's goodness. Recognize His blessings and speak of them continually, expressing abundant thanks and praise both internally in your heart and outwardly with your speech. As it says, "Sichu bechol niflaotav" (Talk of all His wonders). Gratitude starts in the heart, but it must be verbalized. Do not minimize the blessing. Never dismiss a favor as insignificant. Don't say, "Big deal, I have a hot cup of coffee." It is a big deal. Do not attribute your success solely to intermediaries. If a favor arrives through a human messenger, do not thank only the intermediary while neglecting the Creator. The Gemara says, "Chamra le'marei ve'tibuta le'shakei" (The wine belongs to the master, but the thanks goes to the waiter). God is the one hosting the party; everyone else is just a bartender. Do not boast. Never imagine that your success was acquired entirely through your own strength, wisdom, or personal worthiness. Do not fall into the trap of thinking, "Kochi ve'otzem yadi" (My strength and the might of my hand made me this wealth). Do not believe your own effort sustains your blessings. Do not assume that your striving alone preserves what you have, or that without your hishtadlut (effort) and obsession it would all be lost. It is not all up to you. Do not look down on those who lack what you have. Do not view yourself as superior to the less fortunate. Perhaps God is testing you through this bounty to reveal hidden corruption in your character. This good fortune may be a nisayon (test) that you are failing, making the one who lacks it far greater before God than you. Rabbenu Yonah ( Shaarei Teshuvah , Third Gate, Letter 175) quotes Mishlei 17:5: "Lo'eg larash, cheref osehu" (He who mocks the poor affronts his Maker). Why? Because mocking the poor implies your success is entirely your own doing. That attitude insults Hashem, who made both the wealthy and the poor, as Mishlei 22:2 states: "Ashir varash nifgashu, oseh kulam Hashem" (The rich and the poor meet; Hashem is the Maker of them all). Never dismiss another person out of arrogance. Keep your heart whole before Hashem with genuine humility. Even if you cannot increase your active service or praise beyond your current level, at least maintain it. Strive to direct your intentions sincerely toward Hashem, and never let prosperity distract you or cause you to diminish your previous good deeds. Look down in worldly matters, but look up in spiritual matters. Always compare yourself to those who possess fewer material goods than you, not those who have more, so you can appreciate how wealthy you truly are. Conversely, look toward those who serve Hashem more than you, so you strive to reach their spiritual level. Looking at those who do less spiritually breeds complacency and arrogance. Later commentaries explain homiletically the phrase "Hashamayim mimaal veha'aretz mitachat" (The heavens above, and the earth below) can be understood as a remez (hint): In heavenly/spiritual matters, look mimaal (above you), but in earthly/material matters, look mitachat (below you). Do not be misled by God's patience. Do not let the Creator's prolonged concealment of your flaws and His immense patience lead you into a false sense of security. Do not think, "God hasn't punished me, so I must be doing great." You do not comprehend God's patience. The Tomer Devorah , when describing God's primary trait of "Mi Kamocha," explains that God is the ultimate tolerator of insults. Every moment, God pumps life-force into a person; thus, when someone sins, God is actively providing them the very energy they are using to rebel against Him. He could stop it, yet He tolerates the insult. The Mesillat Yesharim (Chapter 4) asks: What does God's mercy do? Without it, we would not survive. According to the strict letter of the law, a sinner should be punished immediately. Instead, God waits for the sinner to return. Do not be fooled by this patience. The Chovot HaLevavot concludes by observing that historical accounts of previous generations, as well as modern observations of those who were showered with God's goodness but ultimately rebelled, show a clear pattern: they stumbled solely because they failed in these ten areas. He notes that whether in the past or the present, failing to follow these rules leads to spiritual downfall. This is a recurring concept, well-known and evident throughout the books of the Prophets in every generation. As Winston Churchill famously said, "Those that fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it."

Welcome to Daily Bitachon. This is our final Shabbat before Rosh Hashanah. Over the past year, we have frequently discussed the profound importance of honoring Shabbat—especially leading into a year where Rosh Hashanah falls on Shabbat, when Shabbat serves as our primary defense advocate in the heavenly court. This is our crucial opportunity to give our ultimate honor and respect to Shabbat. The Ben Ish Chai ( Parashat Pekudei , Year 2) comments on the placement of the Menorah opposite the Shulchan (the Table of the Showbread) in the Mishkan. The Menorah consists of a central shaft from which three branches extend on either side. He explains that the central shaft symbolizes Shabbat. Naturally, one might assume that if the seven branches correspond to the seven days of the week, you would count linearly from right to left: Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday on the right, making Wednesday the middle branch. The Ben Ish Chai explains that this is a mistake. The core of the Menorah is the center, which is Shabbat. The three branches on one side represent the three days leading into Shabbat—Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday—while the three branches on the other side represent the days extending outward from Shabbat—Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday. Shabbat stands squarely in the center. This principle is rooted in the Gemara ( Pesachim 106a) regarding legal documents: Kamei shabta ("before Shabbat") refers to Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. Lebatar shabta ("after Shabbat") refers to Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday. This dynamic directly informs practical Halacha: Havdalah: While ideally recited on Motza'ei Shabbat , one may technically recite Havdalah until Tuesday afternoon (provided one has not eaten beforehand), because Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday are a direct continuation of the preceding Shabbat. Embarking on a Ship: The prohibition against embarking on a sea voyage within three days of Shabbat begins on Wednesday, as Wednesday marks the start of the days designated as "before Shabbat." Shnayim Mikra Ve-Echad Targum: Ideally, the review of the weekly Torah portion should be completed on Shabbat before Kiddush or Mincha. The next acceptable window extends until the following Wednesday, before the preparation for the next Shabbat begins. Both the Ben Ish Chai and the Shlah HaKadosh ( Parashat Pekudei ) explain that the Neshamah Yeteirah (the extra soul granted on Shabbat) arrives and departs in three distinct spiritual stages: Nefesh , Ruach , and Neshamah . On Wednesday , we begin receiving the Nefesh (the baseline vitality, connected to physical action and the liver). On Thursday , we receive the Ruach (the emotional dimension, connected to the heart). On Friday , we receive the Neshamah (the intellectual and spiritual height, connected to the mind). Following Shabbat, this extra spiritual energy gradually departs in reverse over Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday. We live in a perpetual cycle of either preparing for Shabbat or carrying forward its residual light. This concept is reflected in the Friday night piyyut composed by the Arizal, Asader Lishvachin : "Yemina u-smala u-veinayhu khallah" —to the right and to the left, and between them walks the Bride. Just as a bride is escorted down the aisle with her parents on either side, the Shabbat Queen is flanked by the days of the week on both sides. The Source of All Blessing Shabbat is Mekor HaBeracha —the source of all sustenance, success, and prosperity. When we enter Shabbat, we invoke the three foundational categories of agricultural and economic blessing mentioned in the Torah ( Devarim 11:14): Dagan (Grain) Tirosh (Wine) Yitzhar (Oil) Just as the miracle of the oil with the prophet Elisha required a small vessel of oil to initiate the flow of blessing, spiritual abundance requires an earthly anchor. On Shabbat, we establish vessels for all three categories: We light the candles ( Oil / Yitzhar ) We sanctify the day through Kiddush ( Wine / Tirosh ) We break bread over the challah ( Grain / Dagan ) By engaging these elements, we channel divine blessing into every area of our livelihood. This is why many have the custom to position the Shabbat table in clear view of the candles. While standing for Kiddush with the cup of wine in hand, one looks at the candles, with the challah resting on the table—bringing all three components into harmony. As the verse states in Mishlei (10:22): "Birkat Hashem hi ta'ashir" —the blessing of Hashem brings wealth. That blessing refers directly to Shabbat, which is blessed above all other days ( u-verakhto mi-kol ha-yamim ). The Ben Ish Chai adds another insight regarding the Kos shel Beracha (the cup of blessing). A human hand possesses 14 knuckles/joints across the five fingers (three in each of the four fingers, and two in the thumb). The word for hand, Yad ( יד ), has the numerical value of 14. This corresponds to the standard 14 meals eaten during the seven weekdays (two meals per day). Shabbat introduces the 15th meal— Seudah Shelishit . The number 15 represents the fullness of divine blessing, matching the 15 words of Birkat Kohanim (the Priestly Blessing). When holding the Kos shel Beracha in the palm of the hand, the hand acts as the complete 15-part vessel to receive and contain the blessing flowing from Shabbat. Honoring Shabbat Before Rosh Hashanah As we have emphasized, spiritual and physical channels only function when they are treated with honor: If you respect your clothing, it will keep you warm. If you respect a Talmid Chacham , you benefit from his merit. If you respect Shabbat, the blessings of Shabbat will sustain and elevate you. Failing to honor Shabbat blocks the flow of blessing not out of punitive anger, but as a spiritual reality. The prophet Yeshayahu (58:13) instructs: "Ve-chibadeto me'asot derachecha... ve-kadosh Hashem mechubad" —you shall honor it by refraining from your everyday pursuits. As we enter the final Shabbat of the year, make a conscious commitment to elevate your Kavod Shabbat (honor of Shabbat). Now is the moment to reflect, repair any past lapses, and resolve to honor Shabbat with greater care and dignity. When Rosh Hashanah arrives, Shabbat will stand as an advocate of peace and merit on our behalf. Shabbat Shalom. May we all internalize the honor of Shabbat, tap into the wellspring of all blessings, and merit the fulfillment of the prayer: Tachel shana u-virchoteha —may the new year and its abundant blessings begin!

Welcome to the Daily Dose of Bitachon. We are continuing our discussion on the topic of Hakarat Hatov (gratitude). Rav Wolbe, in the previously mentioned va'ad in Alei Shur (Volume 2), explains that one of the primary accomplishments of Hakarat Hatov is that it generates love. The Gemara in Masechet Beitzah (16a) teaches that if someone gives bread to a child, they have an obligation to let the mother know. What does this mean in practice? Rashi explains that one should place a mark or indicator on the child. For example, if you give a child a jelly doughnut, leave a little jelly on their forehead. Why? When the child returns home, the mother will ask, "Who gave this to you?" The child will reply, "So-and-so gave it to me." This allows the parents to realize that this person cares for their child, fostering endearment, friendship, and unity. We see a fundamental principle here: when a favor is recognized and acknowledged, it actively deepens love and connection. Therefore, when doing a personal favor for someone, giving anonymously does not always achieve the ideal result—unlike charity ( tzedakah ) for the poor, where anonymity is virtuous. If you are sending a friend a gift, such as a bottle of wine, leaving it on the doorstep without a name misses the point of fostering connection. We see a similar concept regarding Mishloach Manot . According to the view that the primary purpose of Mishloach Manot is to foster friendship and close bonds, delivering them anonymously fails to fulfill that objective. An anonymous gift cannot generate mutual affection, recognition, and endearment between two people. (Of course, if the purpose is strictly to provide food for the Purim seudah , the physical need is met; however, to build love, personal recognition is essential.) When it comes to Hakarat Hatov , there are three distinct dimensions: Bein adam la-Makom (between man and God) Bein adam la-chavero (between man and his fellow) Bein adam le-atzmo (between man and himself) This third dimension is the profound insight ( chiddush ) of Rav Wolbe. Normally, we assume gratitude is purely an obligation toward the giver. Rav Wolbe explains that it is fundamentally about the recipient. It means developing an internal sensitivity: recognizing that you have received something and feeling the innate urge to reciprocate. It is not merely an external social nicety or polite etiquette; it is an internal refinement of character. Even if the giver is no longer around to receive your thanks, the obligation to express gratitude remains because it shapes who you are. A powerful example of this involves Mr. Ralph Tawil, a philanthropist and community leader in the Syrian Jewish community who was a passionate advocate for giving ma'aser (tithes). I once heard him share his life story at a dinner. Having lost his mother at a young age after emigrating from a Spanish-speaking country, he and his brother grew up in a Brooklyn orphanage. Decades later, as a successful businessman in his eighties, he reflected: "I lived in that orphanage for years. Someone paid for my room, my board, and my food. Who were those people?" He sought out the organization, but it had long since closed and been absorbed by another entity. Even if it were still running, the original benefactors were no longer alive. Nevertheless, feeling an overwhelming urge to repay that debt, he called the president of the successor organization and said, "I want to sponsor a dinner, serve as the guest of honor, and raise substantial funds for your cause." Surprised, the director asked where this sudden generosity came from. Mr. Tawil replied, "I benefited from this institution. I may not know who paid for me, but I have a duty to give back." The original givers were not there to receive the honor, but the act was about fulfilling his own internal need for gratitude. Similarly, I heard of a man who attended yeshiva on full scholarship because his parents could not afford tuition. Years later, after achieving financial success, he asked himself, "Who funded my education?" He called the Rosh Yeshiva and asked for the full cost of tuition from pre-1A through twelfth grade. Calculating thirteen years at roughly $10,000 per year, he wrote a check for $130,000, explaining, "I need to pay back what I was given." Rav Wolbe points out that this idea is embedded in the Pesach Haggadah: we say that we are obligated "le-hallel, le-shabe'ach, u-lefa'er le-mi she-asa..." ("to praise, laud, and glorify the One Who performed miracles for our ancestors and for us"). Why use the phrase "to the One Who performed," rather than simply addressing Hashem directly? It teaches us that gratitude begins with the awareness of having received; the urge to thank arises from our identity as recipients, directed toward whoever provided the benefit. This explains why our tradition contains many examples of showing gratitude even to inanimate objects or entities unaware of the gesture: Moshe Rabbeinu refused to strike the Nile River to initiate the plagues of Blood ( Dam ) and Frogs ( Tzefardeia ) because the water had protected his basket when he was an infant. Likewise, he did not strike the earth to bring the plague of Lice ( Kinim ) because the sand had concealed the Egyptian he had slain. The sand and water have no feelings, but the act refined Moshe's own character. The Rif (Rabbeinu Yitzchak Alfasi) , cited in the Shita Mekubetzet ( Bava Kamma 92b), once refused to judge a case involving a bathhouse because he had derived personal benefit from it. Even in a scenario where an impartial judge could guarantee complete objectivity (such as through absolute verification), he maintained that one should not act against a party from whom they have benefited, as doing so runs counter to the trait of Hakarat Hatov . Rav Wolbe demonstrated this deeply. I once had the privilege of sharing a Friday night meal with Rav Wolbe and his wife. During our conversation about clothing, I mentioned wanting to buy a new pair of pants and discussed the costs. Rav Wolbe pointed to his frock coat and said, "I had this made for my daughter's wedding eighteen years ago. The longer I wear it, the more I appreciate it. It has kept me warm for nearly two decades. I don't want to discard it—we have a relationship." While modern culture embraces a disposable mindset of constantly replacing goods, previous generations mended and valued what served them. Rav Wolbe viewed his belongings through the lens of gratitude. Rav Gustman was known to personally water the plants in his garden, explaining that the forest foliage had provided him cover and saved his life while hiding from the Nazis. Rav Eliyahu Lopian made a point of feeding the stray cats around the yeshiva to show appreciation for keeping the premises free of mice and pests. Returning to our opening theme: Hakarat Hatov creates and sustains love. Rav Wolbe emphasizes that relationships lacking continuous gratitude cannot endure. When a couple marries, there is natural affection at the start. However, as time passes, if husband and wife do not consistently acknowledge each other's daily contributions, that initial affection can fade into indifference or resentment. The same principle applies to relationships between parents and children, business partners, or coworkers. Living or working closely with others inevitably reveals their flaws, weaknesses, and irritating habits. How do we preserve harmony and warmth in the face of natural friction? The answer is to actively focus on the good they do for us. The Gemara relates that a certain Sage whose wife treated him difficultly still made a point of bringing her gifts. When asked why he treated her with such devotion, he answered: "It is sufficient for us that our wives raise our children and save us from sin." That baseline awareness of gratitude sustained the marriage. As the verse states: "Al kol pesha'im techaseh ahavah" —"Love covers all transgressions" (Mishlei 10:12). Where does this enduring love come from? It is built on the foundation of Hakarat Hatov . Just as the mark on the child's forehead prompts recognition and builds affection among neighbors, consistent gratitude serves as the vital bedrock for all lasting, loving relationships.

Today on Daily Bitachon, we continue our directives on how to make a proper kabbalah . We have spent a lot of time on this because it is not an easy concept. Our next rule is that we need to be mindful and add meaning to our kabbalah . A small action should not be purely mechanical; performing an action on autopilot causes it to lose its transformative power. External Additions vs. Internal Transformation To illustrate this important distinction, let us look at an example. Suppose someone's kabbalah is to purchase a pair of Rabbenu Tam tefillin. That is certainly a commendable practice, a genuine chumra , just like deciding to begin consuming only chalav Yisrael . These are worthy practices, and they should not be diminished. At the same time, such actions may not create friction or demand internal resistance. It costs money, you put them on, and it requires a few extra minutes. There are two primary categories of kabbalot : one represents an added enhancement in religious observance, while the other centers on working on oneself and undergoing internal transformation. The Inherent Power of Action Even so, external additions should not be underrated; taking on an action does generate change. A relative once asked Rav Ben Tzion in his younger years, "Should I wear Rabbenu Tam tefillin?" The Rav answered affirmatively. When the man replied, "But I am not a Chassid," the Rav responded, "Put them on, and you will become a Chassid." Similarly, the Shulchan Aruch states that a Yarei Shamayim (God-fearing person) should review the Chumash with Rashi and Targum. What should one do if they do not yet feel like a Yarei Shamayim ? Perform the practice, and through the action, you become one. Performing an action holds power, and we should not dismiss that. Full Presence in Our Actions Returning to the necessity of internal connection, consider a personal experience involving Rav Yerucham Levovitz, the Mashgiach of the Mir Yeshiva. Rav Yerucham's son, Rav Simcha Zissel Levovitz, lived in Monsey and published Rav Yerucham's sefarim , including Da'at Chochma U'Musar and Da'at Torah . On Erev Rosh Chodesh Elul in Monsey, upon entering a basement with Rav Simcha Zissel, he did not kiss the mezuzah at the door. Noticing the observation, he explained: "You are probably wondering why I did not kiss the mezuzah. My father, Rav Yerucham, did not kiss the mezuzah because his Rebbe, the Alter of Kelm, did not kiss the mezuzah." They were individuals of absolute truth ( Emet ). They maintained that if one kisses a mezuzah, one must be fully present and filled with genuine intent at that exact moment; if they did not experience that internal reality at that second, they avoided an insincere motion. Rav Simcha Zissel clarified that this was their unique standard—if everyone lived by that measure, many mitzvot might be neglected, so ordinary practice should certainly include kissing the mezuzah. The essential takeaway remains: to let an action truly affect you, you must be mentally present. Infusing Action with Intent When someone adopts a new practice—such as a stricter standard of kashrut—merely checking off the box is only a baseline. Genuine internal growth demands reflection. Ask yourself why you are doing it and what deeper meaning it holds. That intent transforms a routine action into a catalyst for character refinement. The Rambam on the Awakening of the Mezuzah The Rambam ( Yad HaChazakah, Hilchot Mezuzah 6:13) emphasizes that a person must exercise great care regarding the mezuzah because it is a constant obligation upon everyone. Walking in and out of the home, one encounters the oneness of God ( Hashem Echad ) and recalls His love ( V'ahavta ). This reflection rouses a person from spiritual slumber and the pursuit of transient vanities, bringing the realization that nothing endures eternally except the knowledge of Tzur Ha'olam , the Rock of the world. The Rambam notes that having tefillin on the head and arm, tzitzit on the garment, and a mezuzah on the door provides ongoing reminders that protect a person from sin—functioning like guardian angels, as expressed in the verse, "The angel of Hashem encamps around those who fear Him and delivers them" (Tehillim 34:8). This protection is not merely physical, but spiritual. A Call to Awakening Rav Wolbe points out that the Rambam uses the phrasing "wake up from your sleep" in three specific contexts: regarding the mezuzah, the sounding of the shofar, and during communal distress. The mezuzah carries the transformative wake-up power of the shofar. When a kabbalah is approached with that level of conscious awareness, it creates lasting personal change. The Ramban and the Fundamentals of Faith The Ramban (Shemot 13:16) explains that the mezuzah serves as a testimony to the miracles of the Exodus ( Yetziat Mitzrayim ). When one affixes a mezuzah with proper intent ( v'nitkaven b'inyana ), one actively affirms three foundational principles: Creation from Nothing ( Chiddush Olam ): God created the world. Divine Providence ( Hashgachah ): God knows and supervises all occurrences. Prophecy ( Nevuah ): God communicates His will to humanity. Connecting the Mezuzah to Yetziat Mitzrayim The Mezuzah and the Exodus Pause for a moment and consider what just transpired: you kiss the mezuzah, and it immediately connects you to Yetziat Mitzrayim (the Exodus from Egypt). This raises an interesting question: why does a mezuzah evoke the memory of the Exodus when the text of the mezuzah does not explicitly mention Yetziat Mitzrayim at all? While the Exodus is explicitly written in our tefillin, it is absent from the mezuzah. The Mechilta explains that placing a mezuzah on the doorpost commemorates the blood placed upon the doorposts during the Exodus. When you kiss the mezuzah, you recall the blood placed on the doors in Egypt—a moment when the Jewish people demonstrated total reliance on God, displaying fearlessness in the face of danger by openly confronting Egyptian idolatry. Thus, kissing the mezuzah directly connects back to that supreme act of faith in Yetziat Mitzrayim . Others suggest that the declaration "Hashem Elokeinu, Hashem Echad" is itself the core message of the Exodus. In either case, Yetziat Mitzrayim is intrinsically tied to Kriat Shema , as its third passage explicitly concludes with the remembrance of the Exodus ( Zecher Yetziat Mitzrayim ), which serves as our daily affirmation. There is an unmistakable bond between Shema Yisrael , V'haya Im Shamoa , and the message inscribed within the mezuzah. The Three Pillars of Faith How do we derive the core fundamentals of faith from the Exodus? Yetziat Mitzrayim establishes three central truths: Creation: When God altered the laws of nature, it demonstrated that He created the world, as only the Creator possesses the power to change nature. Divine Providence: God's direct intervention and punishment of the Egyptians proved that He is fully aware of all occurrences and actively supervises them. Prophecy: God speaking directly to Moshe Rabbeinu established the reality of divine prophecy ( nevuah ). These three principles form the bedrock of our faith: God created the universe, He exercises ongoing providence through reward and punishment, and He communicates through prophecy. Echoes in the Rosh Hashanah Musaf These exact three principles form the core structure of the Musaf prayers on Rosh Hashanah—the most pivotal Musaf of the year: Malchuyot: God is the King of the universe who created all existence. Zichronot: He remembers all deeds, overseeing reward and punishment. Shofrot: The shofar of Har Sinai, demonstrating prophecy and divine revelation. Reflect on what occurs in that single instant: by kissing the mezuzah with proper focus, you tap into the essence of the Rosh Hashanah prayers, the message of the shofar, and the foundational lessons of Yetziat Mitzrayim . That is the transformative force of an action performed with genuine kavanah (intention). It is vastly different from merely kissing the doorpost on autopilot as you enter and leave. Levels of Kabbalah and Personal Transformation External additions and stringencies ( chumrot ) are inherently valuable, and adopting positive practices—whether buying an extra pair of tefillin, consuming chalav Yisrael , acquiring special matzot, or seeking the finest lulav and etrog—is certainly praiseworthy and adds sanctity ( kedushah ) to one's life. However, there are distinct levels of commitment. A kabbalah designed to create true internal growth operates on the level of avodat Hashem (inner service of God). It is not merely an external checkmark, but a mindful commitment that actively elevates and transforms the person from within.

Daily Bitachon: The Reciprocal Bond of Shabbat and Rosh Hashanah The Reciprocal Covenant ( Parashat Ki Tavo ) In Parashat Ki Tavo , the Torah describes a profound mutual commitment between God and the Jewish people: אֶת ה' הֶאֱמַרְתָּ הַיּוֹם — "You have designated Hashem this day to be your God, to walk in His ways, to observe His statutes, His commandments, and His laws, and to listen to His voice." (Devarim 26:17) וַה' הֶאֱמִירְךָ הַיּוֹם — "And Hashem has designated you this day to be His treasured people (Am Segula), as He promised you, and to observe all His commandments..." (Devarim 26:18–19) The Baal HaTurim notes that the six reciprocal terms in these verses correspond directly to the Shisha Sidrei Mishna (Zeraim, Moed, Nashim, Nezikin, Kodashim, and Taharot)—the Oral Law through which the covenant is sustained. Building on this, the Maharsha explains that these six terms also correspond to the six workdays of the week. Throughout the week, our relationship with God is cultivated through our actions and learning, culminating on the seventh day: Shabbat. Shabbat: The Peak of Designation In the story of Chana and her seven sons ( Gittin 57b), each son refused to bow to an idol, citing a specific verse before his martyrdom. The Maharsha reveals that each son was brought out on a corresponding day of the week, from Sunday through Shabbat. The seventh son—representing Shabbat—cited this exact verse from Ki Tavo : "Et Hashem He'emarta Hayom." Shabbat is the climax where mutual designation is realized. The Or Zarua (Vol. 2, Ch. 4) writes explicitly that "Hayom" ("this day") refers to Shabbat. He explains that while angels sing praises throughout the six days, on the seventh day, God turns His primary focus to the Jewish people—the designated partner of Shabbat—making us the ones who sing the ultimate praise. The Three Witnesses ( Tosafot, Chagigah 3b ) Tosafot in Masechet Chagigah (3b) teaches that three entities testify on one another in pairs: Hashem, Shabbat, and Am Yisrael. Am Yisrael and Hashem testify that Shabbat is holy. Am Yisrael and Shabbat testify that Hashem is One ( Hashem Echad ). Hashem and Shabbat testify that Am Yisrael is unique ( Goy Echad Ba'aretz ). The Chida explains that halachically, a mutual endorsement between just two parties can appear self-serving—like two rival shopkeepers validating each other's credentials. With three entities providing paired testimony ( two testifying on one ), the verification becomes absolute and unassailable. This structure explains why during Shabbat Mincha —the spiritual peak of the week ( Raa de-Ra'in )—we recite: אַתָּה אֶחָד וְשִׁמְךָ אֶחָד, וּמִי כְּעַמְּךָ יִשְׂרָאֵל גּוֹי אֶחָד בָּאָרֶץ "You are One, Your Name is One, and who is like Your nation Israel, a unique nation on earth." At Mincha, the final testimony of the week is sealed: Hashem's absolute unity and Israel's distinct sanctity are fully manifest. Precision in Lecha Dodi Every line penned by the Kabbalist Rabbi Shlomo Alkabetz in Lecha Dodi was rigorously constructed: לְכָה דּוֹדִי לִקְרַאת כַּלָּה ( "Come, my beloved, to greet the bride" ): The Chida ( Nachal Eshkol ) notes that the word לְכָה ( Lecha ) shares the same letters as כַּלָּה ( Kallah ), drawing from Shir HaShirim (7:12): "Come, my beloved, let us go out into the field" —alluding to the mystical Chakal Tapuchin Kadishin (the Field of Holy Apples) where the Sabbath bride is welcomed. שָׁמוֹר וְזָכוֹר בְּדִבּוּר אֶחָד הִשְׁמִיעָנוּ אֵל הַמְּיֻחָד : Human speech cannot pronounce two words simultaneously; the simultaneous utterance of Shamor and Zachor testifies that Hashem alone is unified and omnipotent. לְשֵׁם וּלְתִפְאֶרֶת וְלִתְהִלָּה : These exact words come straight from the Ki Tavo verse describing God's elevation of Israel ( Devarim 26:19: "Lit'hilah, u'leshem, u'letif'aret" ). The author inverted the order to Leshem, Ul'tiferet, Ul'tehilah via poetic license, ensuring the stanza matches the rhyme scheme ending in ־ָלָה ( Lamed-Heh ), alongside Techilah , Ge'ulah , Segulah , and Kallah . The Three Otot and the Bridge to Rosh Hashanah Our unique status is sealed through three distinct signs ( Otot ): Shabbat- as mentioned we testify On Hashem and He testifies on us. Tefillin (where we wear Hashem's unity, and God's metaphorical Tefillin contain "Mi Ke'amcha Yisrael Goy Echad" ) Brit Milah- Is the covenant itself. As we approach the High Holidays, this connection becomes foundational. The core service of Rosh Hashanah centers on the ten verses of Malchuyot —accepting the yoke of God's kingship and declaring Hashem Elokeinu Hashem Echad . When Rosh Hashanah coincides with Shabbat, the Shofar is not sounded because Shabbat itself serves as the proclamation of Divine Sovereignty. Enhancing our honor and reverence for Shabbat ( Kavod v'Oneg Shabbat ) serves as the most direct preparation for coronation on Rosh Hashanah. Adding an extra measure of respect for Shabbat HaKallah directly elevates our standing as we enter the New Year.

The Trap of All-or-Nothing Thinking Welcome to Daily Bitachon. Today, we continue exploring why our kabbalot (spiritual commitments) sometimes fail. A major challenge is "all-or-nothing" thinking, which blinds us to the truth that spiritual growth happens in gradual, manageable stages rather than through overnight transformation. It is never a simple question of "either I have arrived or I haven't." There are infinite tiers of service, and while great sages adopted holy practices far beyond ordinary reach, every person is judged and held accountable strictly according to their current personal level. Accountability on Every Level The Pele Yoetz , discussing the concept of Pachad (awe/fear), recounts an incident from the time of the Rambam. A pious man hesitated to recite the Viduy (confessional) on Yom Kippur, reasoning that he had not committed any transgressions on the list and refused to utter falsehoods before Hashem. The Rambam corrected him, explaining that if he truly understood the immense gravity and supreme standard of serving Hashem, he would realize that not a single day passes without transgressing every item on that list relative to his stature. A person is judged according to the magnitude of their wisdom—just as King David was held accountable to an exceedingly fine standard—and claiming to have an empty list of faults is itself an error requiring an accounting. A Lessons in Levels Years ago, on Purim, I visited a not yet fully observant acquaintance while tipsy from wine. When he offered me non- mevushal wine, I asked if he observed Shabbat, explaining that wine handled by a Shabbat violator has specific halachic statuses. As I asked about using a remote control or driving on Shabbat, the hostess remarked, "Rabbi, there are levels!" as I continued to go down the list and the answers were negative, she counted to say rabbi there are levels. I then asked, "If you were driving on Shabbat and a prominent rabbi passed by, would you wave and say Shabbat Shalom?" She replied, "Of course not, that would be disgraceful!" Even within non-observance, degrees of sensitivity exist; years later, that same individual proudly shared that their family had taken the step to stop texting on Yom Tov. Small, consistent steps build momentum over time. Moving Up from Where You Stand I once attended a class where Chacham Ben Zion was asked about the halachic permissibility of using electric shavers versus trimmers or depilatory creams. His guidance illustrated this dynamic clearly: if someone currently uses an actual razor (a strict Torah prohibition), moving to an electric shaver is a major positive step; however, if someone already uses an electric shaver, their next step of growth is to adopt a higher stringency , not shaving at all. Growth is relative to where you stand today. Nuance in Daily Mitzvot Consider the mitzvah of Shnayim Mikra V'echad Targum . A person who habitually rushed through it half-asleep on the couch might make a kabbalah to sit upright at a formal table. Rav Dov Povarsky once distinguished between someone who picks up a sefer to fall asleep by his bed versus someone tasked with studying who lazily chooses to lie down. Yet, for an individual who does not recite Shnayim Mikra at all, simply starting to read it on the couch represents genuine, commendable progress. Customizing Your Kabbalah The same principle applies across everyday practices: reciting Birkat Hashachar while walking to shul or rushing through Asher Yatzar while drying one's hands may be an area of improvement for a seasoned learner to sit down and focus, but for a beginner, saying those blessings on the move is a meaningful milestone. Similarly, replacing coarse music with neutral talk radio is a major leap forward for one person, while another person's growth means replacing news and blogs with dedicated Torah audio. Finding the Sweet Spot Spiritual resolutions are not one-size-fits-all. Making effective kabbalot requires honest cheshbon hanefesh (self-accounting) to identify your precise spiritual location. Rather than taking on rigid, knee-jerk commitments that lead to burnout, pinpointing your current tier allows you to select a balanced, sustainable step that produces authentic growth.

1. Bereishit & Days of Divine Will From the Sefer Agra d'Kala (5a), we learn that if we rearrange the letters of the word Bereishit ( בראשית ), it reveals profound messages. One anagram spells: א לול י מי ר צון ת שובו ב תשובה ש למה ( Elul yemei ratzon, tshuvu bi'tshuva shleimah — "Elul is a time of Divine favor; return with complete repentance" ). (Note: The first letters spell אי"ר תב"ש , an anagram of Bereishit). 2. The Lion that Roars A verse in Amos (3:8) states: א ריה ש אג מ י ל א י ירא , ה ׳ א לוהים ד בר מ י ל א י נבא ( "A lion has roared; who will not fear? The Lord God has spoken; who will not prophesy?" ). Who is this lion that roars? The lion refers to the month of Av , whose astrological sign ( mazal ) is Leo (the lion). However, taking the word Aryeh ( אריה —lion) and rearranging its letters yields: א — Elul , ר — Rosh Hashanah , י — Yom Kippur , ה — Hoshana Rabbah . What appears to be a scary lion is actually a progression of auspicious days to turn our spiritual standing around. The Parable of the Father in Disguise (from Rav Shimshon Pinchas): A father dresses up on Purim wearing a scary lion's head over his body. Seeing the terrifying lion, his young child runs away in fear. Then, recognizing his father's clothes, the child grabs his father's legs and cries, "Father, save me from the lion!" The month of Av can look like a scary lion, but it is really our Father in disguise. From Elul through Hoshana Rabbah, we peel back the disguise to see our Loving Father underneath. 3. The Pure Maiden ( Betulah ) and the Luz Bone The Sfat Emet (Parshat Vayelech) notes that the mazal of Elul is Betulah (a maiden/virgin). The Spiritual Untouched Core: Just as a maiden remains untouched, every Jewish person possesses a core within the depths of their soul that was never corrupted by negative forces—a part dedicated purely to God. While it is often hard to access, Elul is the time when we can find and reconnect with this pure spot. The Luz Bone Connection: This concept mirrors the Luz bone in the human body. Our Sages teach that when mankind sinned by eating from the Tree of Knowledge, death was introduced to every part of the body nourished by food. However, God instituted a safety plan: the Luz bone receives its nourishment solely from the meal eaten on Motzei Shabbat ( Seuda Revi'it ). Because it was never nourished by sin, it never decomposes and serves as the seed from which the body resurrects during Techiyat HaMetim . The Spiritual Luz : In time, the Arizal explains that just as the Luz bone is an untainted point in the physical body, Yom Kippur is the Luz in time—the day that remains pure and allows us to rejuvenate. Yom Kippur acts as the spiritual counterpart to Tisha B'Av (which corresponds to the Gid HaNasheh ). In space, the Ramchal tells us in physical space is the Kotel HaMa'aravi (Western Wall), which can never be destroyed. 4. Reading Nafelah in a New Light In Amos (5:2), there is a difficult verse that is omitted from the Ashrei prayer due to its negative association: נ פלה לא תוסיף קום בתולת ישראל ( "She has fallen, she will no longer rise, the maiden of Israel" ). However, Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Shklov ( Sefer Tmunat HaOtiot , p. 290) notes that the Sages read this verse with a different cadence and hope: נפלה, לא תוסיף [ לנפול ] — קום, בתולת ישראל ! ( "She has fallen, but she will fall no more—arise, maiden (Betulah/Elul) of Israel!" ). You have fallen to the lowest point possible; now, during the month of Betulah (Elul), it is time to arise and transform everything. 5. Spiritual Heart Surgery & Divine Assistance In Devarim (30:6), the Torah promises: ו מל ה ׳ א לוה i ך א ת ל בבך ו את ל בב ז רעך ( "And the Lord your God will circumcise your heart, and the heart of your offspring..." ). The initials of א ת ל בבך ו את ל בב spell ELUL ( אלול ). How does Elul connect to circumcising the heart? Rabbeinu Yonah ( Shaarei Teshuvah , Gate 1) opens his classic work by stating that God actively helps those who attempt to return beyond their natural capabilities, instilling in them a spirit of purity to reach true love of God. Non-Invasive Heart Surgery: God offers spiritual heart surgery—removing spiritual blockages and placing "stents" in our hearts. However, this process begins with our initiative: first, "And you shall return to the Lord your God," and then "God will circumcise your heart." The Magnet Analogy: A man is asked to jump high into the air. On his own, he can only jump so high—but as soon as he leaps, a powerful magnet above lifts him the rest of the way. When we make the initial move, God pulls us up. I Am My Beloved's: This echoes the iconic Elul acronym from Song of Songs (6:3): א ני ל דודי ו דודי ל י ( Ani LeDodi VeDodi Li — "I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine" ). The Pri Tzaddik (Rosh Chodesh Elul, #2) explains: If I take the first step toward God ( Ani LeDodi ), then God responds by drawing close and refining my heart ( VeDodi Li ). The Hole of a Needle: As the Midrash ( Shir HaShirim Rabbah ) states in God's Name: "My children, open up for Me an opening of repentance as small as the eye of a needle, and I will open for you gates wide enough for wagons to enter." The Chofetz Chaim ( Zechor L'Miriam , Ch. 18) reassures us that God never places demands upon us that exceed our capabilities; He simply asks us to do what we can. 6. Lulei — Do Not Delay In Tehillim (27:13), recited throughout the High Holiday season, it says: לולא האמנתי לראות בטוב ה׳ בארץ חיים ( "Had I not (Lulei) believed that I would see the goodness of God in the land of the living..." ). The word Lulei ( לולא / לולי ) read backward spells Elul ( אלול ). Psalm 27 contains allusions to the entire season: "The Lord is my light" — Rosh Hashanah ; "And my salvation" — Yom Kippur ; "He will hide me in His pavilion" — Sukkot . To experience all these revelations, we need the preparation of Elul ( Lulei ). Furthermore, the Siftei Kohen (Rabbi of Aleppo, ~400 years ago) notes on Bereishit 44:14 that the word Lulei connects to Yehuda's words to Yosef: לולי התמהמהנו ( "Had we not delayed..." ). The Message of Lulei : Don't delay! When Elul arrives, do not wait until Rosh Hashanah or Yom Kippur to begin your spiritual work—start immediately. The Escaped Prisoner: Rabbeinu Yonah ( Shaarei Teshuvah , Letter 2) notes that when a person delays Teshuvah , their accountability increases. It is like a prisoner whose cell door is unlocked: if he remains inside, it shows he is comfortable in his captivity. The 40-Day Journey The 40 days of favor—from Rosh Chodesh Elul through Yom Kippur—begin at the very start of Rosh Chodesh (starting 30 Av / 1 Elul). An allusion to these 40 days is found in the final letters of אני לדודי ודודי לי : אנ י (10) + לד ود י (10) + ודוד י (10) + ל י (10) = 40 days. May we all take full advantage of these holy days of Elul and draw closer to Hakadosh Baruch Hu .

As we approach Elul, we always read Parshat Re'eh beforehand. The mnemonic for this connection is ראה רש אלול אלף הגיע ( "See, Elul is on its way" ). In Parshat Re'eh, we read: בנים אתם לה' אלוקיכם ( "You are children of Hashem your God" ). It is no coincidence that we receive this message as we begin Elul. As we mentioned, the theme of the month of Av is that God is our Father. As Av ends, we reiterate that we are the children of Hashem, and therefore: לא תתגודדו ( "Do not divide yourselves" ). As we leave Av, we transition into a new expression of love: that of a husband and wife— אני לדודי ודודי לי ( "I am to my beloved, and my beloved is to me" ). We move from one loving relationship into another. Rav Wolbe writes that the ultimate goal of all mitzvot is love, as stated in the second paragraph of Kriat Shema : והיה אם שמוע תשמעו אל מצוותי אשר אנכי מצווה אתכם היום לאהבה את ה' אלוקיכם ( "If you will listen to My commandments that I command you today, to love Hashem your God..." ). The focal point of all mitzvot is to lead us to love. Conversely, every aveirah (sin) contains an element of hatred. Rav Wolbe quotes Rav Yerucham Levovitz, who explains that there is often a mixture of motives: an act of love can contain a degree of hatred, and within the heart, love and hate can coexist. For example, a parent loves their child, yet in a moment of frustration, discipline is applied. The verse states: חושך שבטו שונא בנו ( "He who spares the rod hates his son" ). We do not hate our children, but on a scale of 0 to 10—where 10 is ultimate love and 0 is complete hatred—we are not always at the ultimate expression of love. When a person commits a sin, they fall somewhere along this continuum. As we prepare for Elul, we must overcome the spiritual hurdles resulting from the destruction commemorated in Av. We pass through Av to rectify these flaws and prepare for the love of Elul and the end of Av. Rav Yerucham Levovitz explains in a sicha in his sefer Da'at Chochmah u-Mussar (as cited by Rav Wolbe) that the three cardinal sins represent ultimate hatred. On a scale of 0 to 10, when a sin reaches 10 (total hatred), spiritual survival is impossible—it creates a complete religious disconnect, which is why one must choose to die rather than commit them: Avodah Zarah (Idolatry): Represents total hatred and betrayal toward God by serving another deity. Shefichut Damim (Murder): Expresses hatred toward one's fellow man ( ben adam l'chaveiro ) as well as toward God. Gilluy Arayot (Forbidden Sexual Relations): While Rav Yerucham does not explicitly detail the nature of this hatred in his text, an explanation is offered based on the three spheres of human connection: man to God, man to his neighbor, and man to himself. Avodah Zarah severs the connection to God; Shefichut Damim severs the connection to others; and Gilluy Arayot causes a disconnect from oneself by degrading human dignity. As stated regarding the Sotah (the wayward woman), because her action mimicked animalistic behavior, her offering consisted of barley—the food of an animal. Gilluy Arayot demotes a person from their elevated human standing, causing self-destruction. This explains why individuals often experience self-loathing after such sins: the act itself is rooted in self-hatred. Rav Wolbe asks: How can the soul—described as a שלהבת יה ( "a flame of God" ), inflamed with divine love as depicted in Shir HaShirim —harbor a force of hatred that disconnects man from God? He brings a proof from the Gemara in Shabbat 105b, where Rabbi Yochanan ben Nuri states that one who tears their clothes, breaks utensils, or scatters money in anger should be viewed as an idolater. Today the yetzer hara tells a person to do one small thing, tomorrow another, until it eventually entices them to worship idols. Anger demonstrates that a person is currently controlled by the yetzer hara . This is why on Yom Kippur we confess: על חטא שחטאנו לפניך ביצר הרע ( "For the sin we committed before You through the yetzer hara" ). While all sins involve the evil inclination, this specific confession refers to moments when the yetzer hara gains total dominion over us, such as through bouts of anger. Rav Wolbe proves this from Tehillim 81:10: לא יהיה בך אל זר ולא תשתחוה לאל נכר ( "There shall not be a strange god within you, nor shall you bow to a foreign god" ). What is the "strange god" ( el zar ) that resides inside a person? It is the yetzer hara . The word zar denotes estrangement. A person can become estranged from others, from God, and from themselves. Estrangement ( zarut ) is the exact opposite of belovedness ( yedidut ). Rav Wolbe notes elsewhere that the word ידיד ( yedid ) is a contraction of יד יד ( hand to hand )—one hand reaching out and another reaching back. The counter-force to this connection is zarut , which causes separation. Elul centers on אני לדודי ודודי לי , but it is continually challenged by this force of estrangement. God is called ידיד נפש אב הרחמן ( "Beloved of the soul, Merciful Father" ). Yet, zarut creates a sense of disconnection. For example, difficulty in maintaining concentration ( kavanah ) during prayer often stems from a lack of felt connection. If we truly felt close to our Father, prayer would flow naturally; estrangement blocks that feeling. Self-estrangement occurs when a person loses clarity about their own spiritual standing and no longer truly knows themselves. Remedying this is the core task of Elul: Connection to God: Represented by אני לדודי ודודי לי ( "I am to my beloved and my beloved is to me" ). Connection to Others: Represented by the acronym of Elul found in איש לרעהו ומתנות לאביונים ( "...sending portions to one another and gifts to the poor" ). Connection to Self: Hinted at in the verse ומל ה' אלקיך את לבבך ואת לבב זרעך ( "And Hashem your God will circumcise your heart and the heart of your offspring" ), where the initial letters of א ת ל בבך ו את ל בב spell Elul . The "foreskin" ( orlah ) of the heart acts as a barrier that blocks inspiration and disconnects the mind from the heart. Though the mind understands, the heart remains covered, creating inner division. The job of Elul is to serve as a time of restored connection and love—realigning ourselves with God, with our fellow human beings, and with our inner selves. Having passed through the period of destruction, we overcome the negative forces of hatred and work to revive the sources of love and holy connection.

When we look at time, we don't usually think of it as a creation—we assume time just is , and that God created people, places, and physical things within it. But time is a creation, too. Nothing exists unless God creates it. While it can be hard to fathom, God created time, and like any creation, time has different "flavors." Just as places and people have different flavors, so does time. In our context, when we say "flavors," we really mean levels of holiness. But there is a crucial distinction: vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry are different flavors of the exact same item—ice cream. When it comes to living creatures, an animal and a human aren't just two different "flavors" of the same thing; they are entirely different states of existence. As we know from the Kuzari's hierarchy, a Jewish person represents a distinct state of being. The same principle applies to holy places. The Beit Hamikdash was not just another physical location. Rav Wolbe, quoting the Ha'emek Davar , explained that when you walked into the Beit Hamikdash, you entered a completely different time zone and existence. As Rav Moshe Feinstein put it, walking into the Beit Hamikdash was like stepping into God's embassy—a place existing min ha'olam v'ad ha'olam (from this world to the next world). You were stepping directly into Olam Haba. Shabbat operates the exact same way. Shabbat is me'ein Olam Haba —a mini-experience of the World to Come. It isn't just a different flavor of time, like the difference between "Monday morning blues" and a Friday weekend mood. It is the difference between ice cream and pastrami—a completely different category of existence. Rav Matisyahu Salomon illustrates this with a story about the Chofetz Chaim. When the Chofetz Chaim completed writing the Mishnah Berurah , he hosted a large siyum . He invited a group of Talmidei Chachamim , and each day of the week, they celebrated a different volume, spending the day discussing its topics—Volume 1 on Sunday, Volume 2 on Monday, through Volume 6 on Friday. The guests assumed that after spending all week at his house, Shabbat would proceed as normal. Instead, the Chofetz Chaim called everyone together and announced, "We need to make another siyum ." Confused, they asked, "But there is no seventh volume of the Mishnah Berurah !" He replied that Shabbat had come to him and asked, "Why don't I get a siyum ?" Rav Matisyahu Salomon explains: because Shabbat is a higher dimension of time, from the perspective of Shabbat's realm, the siyum had not happened yet. It was an entirely different level of existence. This concept explains several other teachings: Sheva Brachot: The rabbis explain that on Shabbat, you don't necessarily require panim chadashot (new guests) at a Sheva Brachot meal. Why? Because Shabbat itself is so new and distinct that no one was truly there before—it is a whole new reality. Physical Being: The Chasam Sofer famously noted that while a medical test on people from different regions might show minor variance ("flavors"), the spiritual reality of a Jew who eats kosher food alters their physical baseline. The Nature of Food: Rabbi Grossman offered a parable of two cars that look identical, but one runs on regular gasoline and the other on diesel. Putting the wrong fuel into a car destroys the engine. Similarly, we consume unique spiritual food because we operate on a different plane of existence. The Beit Hamikdash had holy Korbanot for the same reason: higher states of existence require higher food. The Shift after Adam Harishon: Rav Moshe Shapiro noted that after the sin, Adam was told he would have to eat the grass of the field. Originally, bread grew on trees—meaning fully formed, ready-to-eat carbohydrates grew naturally like fruit. When Adam realized he was reduced to eating raw wheat from the ground like livestock, he lamented, "Am I and my donkey to eat from the same trough?" Eating the same food implied operating on the same plane of existence. Aseret Yemei Teshuva: Rav Moshe Shapiro also explained why we adopt additional stringencies like Pat Akum (refraining from non-Jewish baked bread) during the Ten Days of Repentance. By elevating what we eat, we demonstrate to Hashem that we are striving to exist on a higher, more elevated plane. This helps us answer a famous question about the days of the week. Midrashic sources teach that the days of the week are paired up (e.g., Sunday with Monday, Tuesday with Wednesday, Thursday with Friday), but Shabbat was left without a pair. Shabbat complained, and Hashem responded that the Jewish people would be her match. Why couldn't Shabbat simply pair up with Sunday or Tuesday? Because a match requires compatibility in existence—a giant cannot marry a regular human being because they belong to different categories. Sunday through Friday share the same mundane level of creation, but Shabbat belongs to a higher plane. The only fitting partner on that same elevated level of existence is the Jewish nation. This is the deeper meaning of Kiddashto Mikol Hazmanim —Hashem elevated Shabbat above all other times. As we enter Shabbat each week, let us appreciate and embrace the elevated state of existence we are privileged to step into.

Faith, Effort, and Overcoming Arrogance We promised you yesterday that we'd talk about the topic of pride and realizing Hashem is in charge—not just when it comes to money, but also when it comes to our strength and our wisdom. Physical Strength and Health Let's take strength first. A person exercises and loses weight. He thinks, "I lost the weight. I am healthy because I work out, take my medicine, and stay hydrated." What does that have to do with God? You might say, "Okay, God gave me the idea to exercise. Very nice." But it goes much deeper than that. Your exercise and efforts can backfire if Hashem doesn't make them succeed. You are not making it happen. Ultimately, your health is God's decree because you prayed well on Rosh Hashanah. Our physical efforts are just hishtadlut —a natural cover-up for the divine decree. Every action does not guarantee a reaction. A person could ride a bicycle for his health, hit a bump in the road, break his elbow, or worse. Cause and effect do not rule the world. Reb Moshe Feinstein noted that before the Surgeon General determined that smoking was dangerous, it did not make people sick in the same way. Why? Because illness comes when a person fails to protect their health according to the Torah's command in Mesillat Yesharim : Ushmartem me'od l'nafshoteichem ("Take extreme care of your lives"). When someone acts out of a duty to care for the body God gave them, their effort is fulfilled. Reb Yitzchak Kaduri lived to 102 while smoking because he was unaware of its modern medical diagnosis. You put in your effort, and Hashem causes the weight loss. Many people exercise and never lose weight, while others lose weight without exercising at all. You could work out, get dehydrated, spike your heart rate, and end up harming your health. You are not in charge of your health. Wisdom and Human Capability Next case: wisdom. Someone thinks, "I'm a smart guy. I prepare great classes because of my intellect." What do we say in the Musaf prayer ( Ochila La'El )? "The preparations of the heart belong to man, but the answer of the tongue is from Hashem." Man can organize his thoughts— ma'archei , like setting the Shulchan Aruch —but Hashem directs the words that leave his mouth. None of the words you speak come purely from your own power. Someone once asked: "Are you trying to tell me that when I dribble a basketball and shoot it through the rim, God is in my arm?" Absolutely. God is in your arm. In the piyut recited on the second day of Rosh Hashanah ( Shacharit ), written by Reb Yehuda HaLevi, we say v'hakoach miyadecha —the strength in your hand is from Him. The Chovot HaLevavot discusses this in Sha'ar HaBechina as "the secret of movement." Nothing moves on its own. The atoms, the molecules, the forces of motion—God is behind all of it. There is no "automatic pilot" in this world. The Aruch notes that the word automatos comes from Greek philosophy, which viewed the universe as running on self-sustaining mechanics. In reality, a living Pilot drives every detail. The Illusion of Control People often think, "Of course God can interfere—I could slip while shooting the ball, or tariffs could ruin my business." Reb Matisyahu Salomon shared a story about observing a businessman who prayed with intense kavanah (devotion), yet was known to be cutthroat in business. When asked about this contradiction, the man replied: "I know God can interfere. Ships can sink, or tariffs can rise. So I pray: 'God, I know what I'm doing in business—just don't interfere.'" That is entirely the wrong attitude. Everything that happens comes directly from Hashem: Koach miyadecha . The Tomer Devorah elaborates on this when explaining the thirteen attributes of mercy ( Mi Kel Kamocha ). Who is like God, who displays ultimate savlanut (patience)? Even when a person sins, God continues to pump life energy into that individual's limbs at that exact second. Consider this parable: A man lets his neighbor plug a party sound system into his home electrical outlet, requesting only that the music stop by 10:00 PM so his baby can sleep. Midnight arrives, the music is blasting, and the baby is crying. What does the homeowner do? He pulls the plug! Hashem does not pull the plug. He continues to sustain the breath and strength of a person even while they misapply those gifts. Our thoughts, speech, and ideas originate from God. Preparation is our hishtadlut , but the final outcome remains in His hands. A single slip of the tongue can alter a career; without divine protection, human effort quickly stumbles. From Tisha B'Av to Neilah Our High Holiday season serves as a direct rectification for the spiritual drop of Tisha B'Av. Tisha B'Av represents the concept of the Gid HaNasheh —the sinew of forgetting. What causes us to forget God? Arrogance in our wealth, strength, and wisdom. We rectify this by progressing through the Days of Awe until reaching Neilah on Yom Kippur. According to Shmuel in Masechet Yoma , the core essence of Neilah is encapsulated in these words: Ma anachnu? (What are we?) Ma chayenu? (What is our life?) Ma chasdenu? (What is our kindness?) Ma tzidkotenu? (What is our righteousness?) Ma kochenu? (What is our power?) Ma gevurotenu? (What is our strength?) "Behold, all the mighty men are as nothing before You." Rav Yerucham Levovitz once cited the story of a famous Jewish strongman who could bend steel bars. Targets of antisemitic hostility in Europe spiked his bed of nails with poison. A tiny prick infected him, and he rapidly deteriorated and passed away. Rav Yerucham remarked: Look at this powerful man—one microscopic point on his back, and he falls. The Transience of Human Fame Anshei Hashem —people of renown and wealth—pass away and are quickly forgotten: Hathaway Avenue (Deal, NJ): Named after William Hathaway, a prominent 19th-century hotel proprietor who purchased the land in 1854 and hosted Deal's incorporation gala in 1897. Today, few who drive down the street know his story. Carnegie Hall: Andrew Carnegie financed its construction in 1891. Decades later, public speaker Dale Carnagey intentionally changed the spelling of his last name to "Carnegie" as a marketing move to associate himself with Andrew's colossal wealth. Today, people routinely confuse the two. Historical Magnates: Prominent leaders, such as Ishaia Angel of Damascus or the Farhi family of Syria, held vast influence in their time. Yet across generations, earthly prominence fades into history. "The wise are as without knowledge, and the understanding as without intellect. For all our deeds are emptiness, and the days of our lives are vanity before You. The preeminence of man over beast is non-existent, for all is vanity." Conclusion This clarity is the goal of Neilah : replacing the self-reliance that leads to spiritual decline with the absolute awareness that everything originates from God. Rabbeinu Bachya notes on the command lo tira mehem ("do not fear them") that those who harbor genuine reverence for God feel no fear of man. Embracing this perspective during the Yamim Noraim restores our focus, clears away false pride, and anchors our ultimate connection to Hashem.

When the Torah warns us in Parshat Eikev about forgetting God due to arrogance, it pinpoints the exact root of that pride: accumulating great wealth and concluding, " כֹּחִי וְעֹצֶם יָדִי עָשָׂה לִי אֶת הַחַיל הַזֶּה " ("My strength and the power of my hand made me this chayil "). What does chayil mean here? Ramban explains that chayil refers to war (as in Chaylei Tzahal , the Israel Defense Forces). Under this interpretation, the verse describes someone boasting, "My success in battle was achieved through my own strength." Instead, the Torah instructs us to remember: " כִּי ה' אֱלֹהֶיךָ הוּא הַנֹּתֵן לְךָ כֹּחַ לַעֲשׂוֹת חָיִל " ("It is Hashem your God who gives you the strength to achieve military victory"). Ramban notes that while Jewish soldiers are capable and powerful fighters, they must recognize that their strength originates from God to avoid falling into arrogance. This illustrates a vital principle: although we must put in our hishtadlut (practical effort)—and we may execute it skillfully enough to veil the underlying divine intervention—we must always remember that the success remains a miracle. A striking example of hishtadlut and victory comes from modern history: the famous raid on Entebbe. Operation Entebbe (Operation Yonatan) On the night of July 3–4, 1976, the IDF executed Operation Thunderbolt, a daring commando mission that rescued 102 hostages held at Entebbe International Airport in Uganda. The crisis began when an Air France flight from Tel Aviv to Paris was hijacked by Palestinian and German terrorists and diverted to Uganda. The hijackers separated the Israeli and Jewish passengers from the rest, holding over 100 captives while demanding the release of imprisoned militants. Idi Amin's Israeli Connection Uganda's dictator, Idi Amin, welcomed the hijackers and deployed Ugandan troops to assist them. Ironically, Amin had close historical ties to Israel: Military Training: In the 1960s, Amin underwent officer and paratrooper training in Israel under IDF instructors. Israeli Contacts: During the crisis, Israeli officials attempted to leverage Amin's personal friendship with retired IDF Colonel Baruch "Burka" Bar-Lev, who phoned Amin repeatedly to negotiate the release of the hostages. However, Amin used the situation for international posturing and refused to free the captives. The Mercedes-Benz Decoy Strategy Because Entebbe was over 2,500 miles (4,000 km) from Israel, surprise was critical to prevent guards and hijackers from killing the hostages before commandos could reach the terminal. The Scheme: Israeli intelligence knew Idi Amin frequently visited the airport in a black Mercedes-Benz 600 escorted by Land Rovers. The Execution: The assault team, led by Lt. Col. Yonatan Netanyahu (older brother of Benjamin Netanyahu), loaded a black Mercedes styled to mimic Amin's official vehicle into the lead C-130 transport plane. The Assault: Upon landing under cover of darkness, the commandos drove the Mercedes and Land Rovers directly toward the terminal. The ruse bought precious time, allowing the assault force to approach the building before Ugandan guards realized what was happening. The Outcome Hostages Rescued: 102 of 106 hostages were safely evacuated. Enemy Casualties: All seven hijackers and approximately 45 Ugandan soldiers were killed. Three hostages died in the crossfire during the raid, and a fourth (Dora Bloch) was later murdered in a Ugandan hospital on Amin's orders. IDF Losses: Lt. Col. Yonatan Netanyahu was the sole Israeli military fatality. Tactical Impact: Commandos destroyed several Ugandan MiG fighter jets on the tarmac to prevent pursuit during takeoff. This 53-minute ground raid remains one of the most famous special operations in modern military history. Despite the tragic loss of Yonatan Netanyahu, the operation was celebrated as a monumental victory. I recall a student arriving at my elementary school the following week wearing a T-shirt featuring Idi Amin saluting, captioned: Kol Hakavod leTzahal ("All respect to the Israeli Army"). While the IDF displayed extraordinary bravery, preparation, and skill, we must keep the ultimate source of success in mind: " כִּי הוּא הַנֹּתֵן לְךָ כֹּחַ לַעֲשׂוֹת חָיִל " ("For it is He who gives you the strength to achieve success"). Therefore, the ultimate praise belongs to God: Kol Hakavod laHashem . As the verse states, " לִכְבוֹדִי בְּרָאתִיו " ("I created it for My glory")—the world was created so that we might recognize and reflect God's honor. We say " בָּרוּךְ כְּבוֹד ה' מִמְּקוֹמוֹ " ("Blessed is the glory of Hashem from His place") and " בָּרוּךְ שֵׁם כְּבוֹד מַלְכוּתוֹ לְעוֹלָם וָעֶד " ("Blessed be the name of His glorious kingdom forever and ever"). Ultimately, all honor for our achievements returns to Him. That is the first explanation of chayil . A second explanation defines chayil as the amassing of financial wealth. When someone builds a fortune, they often attribute it entirely to their own acumen, leading to pride. Notice what Targum Onkelos says on " כִּי הוּא הַנֹּתֵן לְךָ כֹּחַ לַעֲשׂוֹת חָיִל ": God does not merely give you physical energy to go to work; " הוּא יָהֵב לָךְ עֵצָה לְמִקְנֵי נִכְסִין "—He gives you the ideas and insight to acquire property. You might think your business success stems from your brilliant choice of strategy, brand, or market entry, but those insights originate with God. As the verse teaches: " רַבּוֹת מַחֲשָׁבוֹת בְּלֶב אִישׁ וַעֲצַת ה' הִיא תָקוּם " ("There are many thoughts in a man's heart, but it is Hashem's counsel that stands"). The good decisions that yield your success are ultimately God's ideas brought to fruition. It is human nature to point fingers at areas that do not apply to us directly. As a rabbi who neither runs a corporate enterprise nor serves as a frontline soldier, I could easily look at businessmen and warriors and say, "What is wrong with you? Don't you realize God gives you your strength and wealth?" It is easy to lecture others on spiritual flaws when we aren't tested in those same areas. (Brief pause due to an emergency call—returning to the topic now.) Why do we find it so easy to judge others when we have no skin in the game? There is a well-known parable about a man applying to join the Communist Party. The interviewer asks: "If you had two houses, would you give one to Mother Russia?" "Of course!" he replies. "If you had two cars, would you give one?" "Without hesitation!" "If you had two coats, would you give one?" "No way." "Why not?" asks the interviewer. "Because I actually have two coats!" In theory, loyalty is effortless. When an obligation touches our actual possessions or lifestyle, our perspective shifts. So it is easy for an observer to ask why soldiers or entrepreneurs do not attribute their success to God. However, self-examination requires looking deeper. The prophet Yirmiyahu identifies three distinct areas where people take self-righteous pride (a passage read on Tisha B'Av, a day centered on the consequences of forgetting God): " אַל יִתְהַלֵּל חָכָם בְּחָכְמָתוֹ וְאַל יִתְהַלֵּל הַגִּבּוֹר בִּגְבוּרָתוֹ אַל יִתְהַלֵּל עָשִׁיר בְּעָשְׁרוֹ " ("Let not the wise man glory in his wisdom, nor the mighty man in his might, nor the rich man in his riches"). Instead, " כִּי אִם בְּזֹאת יִתְהַלֵּל הַמִּתְהַלֵּל הַשְׂכֵּל וְיָדֹעַ אוֹתִי " ("Let him who glories glory in this: that he understands and knows Me"). What did we personally construct to earn that glory? Our Sages teach: " הַכֹּל בִּידֵי שָׁמַיִם חוּץ מִיִּרְאַת שָׁמַיִם " ("Everything is in the hands of Heaven except the fear of Heaven"). As the verse states, " מָה ה' אֱלֹהֶיךָ שֹׁאֵל מֵעִמָּךְ כִּי אִם לְיִרְאָה " ("What does Hashem your God ask of you, except to fear Him"). When you close a profitable deal, recover your health, or arrive at a brilliant insight in Torah study, that clarity originates from God. Does this mean we carry no moral accountability for our actions? Of course not. God provides human beings with energy and mental capacity, but our moral choices remain entirely ours. God grants us the physical ability to speak, but whether we choose to speak Lashon Hara (derogatory speech) or refrain from it is our own moral decision. God does not compel us to sin. To understand human temptation on a deeper level: prior to Adam's sin, evil was entirely external to humanity (represented by the serpent outside of man). After the sin, evil became internalized within the human psyche. When an internal voice prompts someone to speak Lashon Hara , that voice is not divine inspiration; it is the internalized influence of the serpent ( Yetzer Hara ). God created those opposing forces to preserve free choice. We cannot blame God for our wrongdoing—we chose to listen to the temptation rather than to God's command. Divine inspiration grants us the constructive ideas for success, strength, and financial breakthrough; moral choice determines whether we obey God's laws. These three arenas of pride are visible even in early childhood. I once walked with my first-grade grandson and asked him, "What makes a kid cool in school?" He listed three traits: Athletic ability: Being good at sports. Possessions: Having cool gear (like bringing the best basketball to the playground). Academics: Getting top marks on tests. Even in elementary school, the baseline metrics of social prestige mirror the biblical categories: Sports capability represents Gibbor (strength). Possessions represent Ashir (wealth). High test scores represent Chacham (wisdom). Every individual—whether a business executive, a rabbi, or a stay-at-home parent—must recognize that achievements in these areas stem from God. The central spiritual struggle is internalizing this truth to prevent arrogance. When it comes to finance, cause and effect do not always operate linearly. Effort invested in one area often yields results from an unexpected direction. Consider the well-known story of yeshiva students who spent a day soliciting donations and returned empty-handed. The next morning, the Rosh Yeshiva thanked them for their hard work. They protested, "Why are you thanking us? We brought in no money." The Rosh Yeshiva replied, "An anonymous donor just walked in and gave a massive contribution. That happened because of the effort you put in yesterday." Your dedicated effort ( hishtadlut ) triggers divine reward, though often through channels you never anticipated. This explains the Talmudic maxim: " יָגַעְתָּ וּמָצָאתָ תַּאֲמִין " ("If a person says, 'I have toiled and I have found,' believe him"). Why does the Sages' phrase use the word "found" ( matzata ) rather than "produced" or "earned"? Because even after rigorous toil, the ultimate success arrives like a metzia (a lost object found unexpectedly). There is no automatic, mechanical correlation between our input and the output—especially in financial matters. While we easily understand this dynamic in business, how does it apply to wisdom ( Chacham ) and physical strength ( Gibbor )? When someone studies a complex topic and masters it, or adheres to a workout regimen and gets fit, they naturally feel a direct cause-and-effect relationship. Next, we will explore the challenges of strength and wisdom, and how we can avoid arrogance when taking pride in those accomplishments.

Remembering and Forgetting: Disease, Cause, and Cure We continue with the topic of remembering and forgetting vis-à-vis Tisha B'Av and Rosh Hashanah. Now, we have to ask ourselves: how do I know if I am forgetting God? I might look like I am doing fine. If forgetting God is the disease, how do I diagnose it? The Beit HaLevi explains that the symptom of forgetting God is fear . If you are afraid, it means you have forgotten God. He brings a pasuk in Yeshayahu: "Mi at vatirei..." ("Who are you that you should fear...")—and then it says that you forgot Hashem. Hashem is not on your mind. What does that mean? This connects back to a warning in the Torah: "Lo tira" —when you go out to war, do not be afraid. Rabbeinu Yonah notes that this applies not only when going to war, but to any challenging situation that comes your way. Do not be afraid. You might ask: How can you expect me not to be afraid? That feels impossible. What does the Torah say right after that instruction? Remember what Hashem did at Yetzias Mitzrayim (the Exodus from Egypt). To give a mashal (parable): Imagine a man walking down a dangerous road. I remember during COVID walking down Ocean Parkway when a group of motorcyclists and bicyclists came by during a "defund the police" rally. There I was, wearing my kippah , walking down Ocean Parkway, and I got scared. Now, hold on. Imagine I were inside a large tank wearing a bulletproof vest, with a cannon in front of me. Would I be afraid? Of course not. So why would someone in that situation be afraid? Only because they forgot they were inside a tank! If you remember you are in a tank, you are not afraid. We all have a tank. That tank is Hakadosh Baruch Hu protecting us: השם צלך על יד ימינך ( "Hashem is your shade at your right hand." ) כי אתה השם מחסי ( "For You, Hashem, are my refuge, my protection." ) As we say in Zichronot : "L'chol hachosim bo" —to all those who find refuge in Him. We have a place of refuge. Think of historical figures or despots—like Noriega in Panama—who ran into an embassy for protection because, by international law, enemies couldn't touch them there. An embassy is a refuge. God is our refuge. But when I forget that I am inside that refuge, I become afraid. Thus, the symptom of the disease of forgetting God is fear. The Causes: Arrogance and Desire The next thing we need to understand is the cause of the disease. There are two causes: Arrogance ( Ga'avah ) Desire ( Ta'avah ) It is interesting to note that right after Tisha B'Av, in Parashat Va'etchanan , the Torah discusses forgetting God due to desire . In Parashat Ekev , it discusses forgetting God due to arrogance . What does it mean to forget God due to desire? The Torah warns that you will enter a land full of wealth—houses you didn't build, vineyards you didn't plant, and so on. You will become steeped in physical desire, and as a result, you will forget God. That is what the Sforno explains. The first mention of forgetting God in Parashat Va'etchanan is rooted in desire ( Ta'avah ). We see this same concept connected to the Churban Beit HaMikdash (Destruction of the Temple). Why did the Churban happen? The verse indicates that people were drinking wine, listening to music, and ואל פועל השם לא הביטו —they did not pay attention to the handiwork of God. If you ignore the handiwork of God and focus solely on self-indulgence, it causes you to forget Him. The Chida notes that this means they did not bless Him; Berachot are the cure for forgetting God, as we will see. So now we have three parts: The Symptom: Fear. The Causes: Arrogance and Desire. The Cure: Birkat HaMazon , Berachot , and keeping God on your mind. Regarding cause number one ( Ta'avah ): וישמן ישורון ויבעט ( "Yeshurun grew fat and kicked" ). When a person is full, they become totally self-absorbed and forget God. The Gemara says that a lion roars only when it is full. We all know that when you are running on empty—when you are hungry—you become humble. That is why we fast on Yom Kippur. Fasting brings humility. If you enter a day with a full stomach, you are not humble; but by the end of the fast, at Neilah , you are humble because you haven't eaten. The second cause—arrogance—is also very interesting to analyze. In Parashat Ekev , the scenario is different: you didn't enter a place with pre-built houses; you built the houses yourself. This refers to the second generation entering Eretz Yisrael . Interestingly, in modern America, the dynamic is often flipped: The First Generation came with nothing, worked hard, and built themselves up. Their main challenge is arrogance ( "I am a self-made man; I built this wealth" —like a Holocaust survivor who becomes a billionaire). The Second Generation is born into wealth. They didn't make a dollar themselves, so their main challenge is usually not arrogance, but desire . Because they don't have to struggle, they grow up with fancy houses, luxury cars, and expensive vacations. They are born into wealth and can easily become spoiled. Regardless, arrogance is born from success: "I made my money; I made my life." The Torah warns: ורם לבבך —your heart will become haughty from success— ושכחת —and you will forget. Arrogance and desire are the two root causes of this spiritual disease. The Antidote: Berachot The antidote provided by the Torah is: ואכלת ושבעת וברכת — "You shall eat, be satisfied, and bless." Otherwise, pen —lest you go down the path of forgetting God. The Meshech Chochmah raises a fascinating question on this verse ( V'achalta v'savata u'verachta ). The Gemara points out a contrast in halachah : For food , the biblical obligation ( d'Oraita ) to make a blessing comes after eating. For Torah study , the biblical obligation to make a blessing comes before learning. Why are they flipped? Why don't we biblically recite a beracha before eating or after learning? The Meshech Chochmah answers that the purpose of making a beracha after eating is not merely to say thank you. If it were only about expressing gratitude, as the Gemara implies, you ought to thank God even more when you are hungry and about to eat! If someone passes you a glass of water when you are dying of thirst, you say thank you right away—not just after you finish drinking. Instead, the beracha comes after eating because that is when you have just consumed physical food. After eating, a person becomes full, satisfied, and susceptible to arrogance and indulge in desire. Therefore, Birkat HaMazon acts as an immediate antidote administered after exposure to the risk. Think of it like a poison and its antidote: if someone is exposed to a poison, they must take the antidote immediately afterward, or the poison will kill them. The potential poison of desire and arrogance after a meal receives its immediate antidote through the post-meal beracha . When it comes to studying Torah, the dynamic is reversed. Before you start learning, you are not yet connected; you might approach the study with the wrong motivations or mindset. Therefore, you make a beracha beforehand to set the right intention. This explains why the Churban came about: על שלא ברכו בתורה תחילה —because they did not make a beracha over the Torah first . They lacked the right intentions. They failed to realize that learning is meant to connect them directly to God, and as a result, the Shechinah departed. The beracha must precede learning to anchor the experience. After learning, you are already connected and focused, so a biblical beracha afterwards isn't required in the same way. (Of course, Rabbinically, we now recite blessings both before eating and after learning as well). To summarize: With eating , the vulnerability to Ga'avah and Ta'avah occurs afterwards , when you are full. With learning , the vulnerability to wrong intentions occurs beforehand . Thus, Berachot serve as the system designed to cure the disease of forgetting by forcing us to remember. Conclusion: The 100 Blessings Finally, it is known that there are 98 curses listed in the Tochecha read before Rosh Hashanah. In truth, there are 100, because the text also includes unwritten misfortunes, accounting for two more. Our Sages teach that these 100 curses correspond to the 100 blessings ( Me'ah Berachot ) we are meant to recite every day. Within these 100 daily blessings, 98 are Rabbinic and 2 are Biblical ( Birkat HaMazon and Birkat HaTorah , according to many opinions). What protects us from the 100 curses are the 100 blessings: 98 Rabbinic blessings offset the 98 explicit curses, while the 2 primary Biblical mitzvot of blessing offset the 2 hidden curses. The antidote to the disease of forgetting—which brought about the curses—is the daily discipline of Berachot . A similar concept appears regarding Sheva Berachot : Seven blessings recited twice a day (at two meals) over seven days equals 49 x 2 = 98 blessings . Add the two initial blessings at the wedding itself ( Chatan v'Kallah ), and you reach 100 blessings . Those 100 Berachot shield the new couple, welcoming them into a beautiful world of continually remembering God. In summary: we have identified the disease (forgetting God), the symptom (fear), the causes (arrogance and desire), and the ultimate cure ( Berachot and mindfulness).

Tisha B'Av, Rosh Hashanah, and the Power of Remembering According to the Zohar, one of the central themes of Tisha B'Av is forgetting God . Where do we see this? It says that when Yaakov Avinu had his wrestling match with Esav's angel, it took place on Tisha B'Av—the time when Esav was granted the power to impact Yaakov and bring about the Galut (exile). As we know, Esav's angel displaced Yaakov's sciatic nerve, the Gid Hanasheh . That is the simple explanation. The Deeper Meaning of Gid Hanasheh The Zohar expands on this by asking: what does Nasheh actually mean? Simply put, nasheh means to be dislocated, as the root nash means "to move." However, the Zohar points out , nasha means to forget, making the Gid Hanasheh the sinew of forgetting . Its spiritual essence causes a person to forget God. We see the word נשה meaning to forget when Yosef said, "Ki nashani" —"For God has caused me to forget ." As we know, the human body has 365 sinews, which correspond to the 365 solar days of the year and the 365 negative commandments ( mitzvot lo ta'aseh ). Each day has a matching component in man, in time, and in the Torah: In man: The physical Gid Hanasheh . In mitzvot: The prohibition against eating the Gid Hanasheh . In time: The fast of Tisha B'Av. Furthermore, the words "Et Gid" ( ) contain a hidden hint to all the dark fast days of the Churban (destruction): Et ( ): Refers to Tisha Av ( ). Gimmel ( ): The 3rd day of Tishrei— Tzom Gedalia . Yud ( ): The 10th of Tevet— Asara B'Tevet . Dalet ( ): The fast of the 4th month (Tammuz)— Shiva Asar B'Tammuz ( Tzom Harevii ). Another connection between Yaakov and the Churban on Tisha B'Av is the custom to place a stone under one's pillow on Tisha B'Av night. This stems from Yaakov Avinu placing stones around his head when he slept. Some teachings suggest that Yaakov's dream also occurred on Tisha B'Av; that is why he saw the spiritual guardians of the nations ascending and descending, and why he became terrified when he saw Edom (Esav) ascending without coming down. Regardless, we see that the primary force of Tisha B'Av is the force of forgetting . Rosh Hashanah: The Remedy of Zikaron The way we fight back against this spiritual forgetfulness is through Rosh Hashanah. Rosh Hashanah is Yom Hazikaron —the Day of Remembrance. Simply speaking, we often explain this as the day when God remembers us, which is true. However, Rav Moshe Feinstein offers a deeper insight: "remembrance" in this context means God remembering our memory of Him . The secret to our success on Rosh Hashanah is our active remembrance of God. The more we keep God in our thoughts, the more He remembers us—as we say in the Retzei Vhachaletzanu addition to Birkat HaMAzo on Shabbat : if we do not forget the Beit Hamikdash , God will not forget us. Our act of not forgetting Him and His act of not forgetting us are intrinsically linked. Of course, God never literally forgets us. When it appears He has forgotten, it is merely hester panim (the hiding of His Face). In truth, God is always watching us— metzitz min hacharakim (peeking through the lattices). In the haftarah of Parshat Shoftim, the Jewish people claim, "God has forgotten me and forsaken me." God responds: "Can a mother forget her nursing child?" Hashem adds that even if a human mother could somehow forget her child, "I will never forget you." What Does It Mean to Forget? "Forgetting" in a spiritual sense does not mean complete amnesia—like forgetting a computer password. It means that something is no longer at the forefront of your mind . If someone asks you today, "Did you think about your eighth-grade rebbi today?" You would say, "No." Did you forget who he is? No, but he was "forgotten" in the sense that he was not on your mind. Similarly, when the prophet asks if a mother could forget her child, it doesn't mean she forgot his name; it means she became distracted and left him behind. He wasn't on her mind at that moment. Conversely, Zikaron (remembrance) means actively bringing something to mind and setting it into action. The word Zachar (male/remember) is connected to action—males represent active givers, whereas females represent recipients. Therefore, to "remember" God means to actively keep Him on the front burner of our minds. When we do this, we, so to speak, put ourselves at the forefront of His mind in an active, dynamic way. Standing Before the "Spiritual MRI" The Zichronos —the section of Mussaf where we declare that God remembers all actions—is the most critical part of our Rosh Hashanah prayers. Malchuyot: Acknowledges Hashem's sovereignty—a fundamental pillar of emunah (faith) as we crown Him King. Shofrot: Recalls the revelation at Har Sinai. Zichronos: The part most personal to us, as we read how God reviews every individual's life—who will live, who will die, which countries will experience war or peace. When you internalize that God is examining your every deed, thought, and mission, it is terrifying. Rav Wolbe compares Zichronos to passing through an MRI machine. It doesn't scan for physical ailments, but for spiritual ones. What will the test results be? Usually, when you take a medical test, you get the results in a few days. But the results of this spiritual MRI do not come immediately. You only find out the results as the year unfolds: Will you buy that new house? What will happen with your health, concerns, and challenges? Since no one is handed their results on the spot, a person could theoretically sit on pins and needles all year worrying. So how do we protect ourselves? The "Life Jacket" of Ein Od Milvado Rav Wolbe notes that right in the middle of the Zichronos prayers, the Torah gives us a spiritual life jacket to keep us from drowning in fear: (Fortunate is the person who does not forget You, the human who draws strength from You.) By actively remembering God and keeping Him on our minds, we create a shield of protection. This is the essence of "Ein Od Milvado" —the ultimate realization that there is nothing in existence other than God. Rav Matisyahu Salomon quotes a powerful idea regarding this concept, citing a famous story about the Brisker Rav (a descendant of the Nefesh HaChaim ). While escaping the Nazis on a train in wartime Europe without papers, the Brisker Rav instructed his children: "Just focus entirely on the concept of Ein Od Milvado. Think only of God." As a Nazi officer approached them, the Rav briefly had a momentary lapse in focus, caught himself, and re-centered his mind on Ein Od Milvado . The Nazi turned around and walked away. Rav Matisyahu Salomon points out: If someone told you that a month from now you'd be trapped on a train surrounded by Nazis, what would you do? You would spend every single day practicing Ein Od Milvado ! There is a similar story about the Beis HaLevi (also a descendant of the Nefesh HaChaim ). The Russian authorities had blockaded a town to search warehouses for contraband goods—which many local Jews traded in out of financial necessity. One merchant, terrified because his warehouse was full of illegal goods, ran to the Beis HaLevi after Shacharit . The Beis HaLevi told him: "We are going to sit right here and study the concepts of Ein Od Milvado in the Nefesh HaChaim until it is crystal clear to you." They spent the entire morning engrossed in this study. By lunchtime, the inspectors reached the merchant's warehouse and marked an 'X' on the door before leaving for lunch. When two different inspectors came by after lunch, one saw the 'X' and said, "We already checked this one," and walked past. The man was saved. Bringing Remembrance Into Action Rav Matisyahu Salomon explains that Rosh Hashanah is our personal Ein Od Milvado moment. We need Hashem on our minds the entire day, and the entire month of Elul is designed to prepare us for this focus. We even bring this mindfulness into our Rosh Hashanah festive meals through the Simanim (symbolic foods). The Meiri asks: Why do we recite the Yehi Ratzon requests in the middle of the meal rather than before it? He explains that the prayers were recited as people ate. Why? Because we don't want to forget God even while eating! When we eat pomegranate salad, we recite Yirbu Mitzvotenu K'Rimon to connect the food back to God. When we eat the head of a lamb, we recall Akeidat Yitzchak . Every step of the way—even during a physical meal—is about keeping Hashem at the forefront of our minds. Rav Wolbe teaches that we must maximize every single second of Rosh Hashanah. While it takes effort, keeping God in our thoughts is the ultimate antidote to the spiritual forgetfulness of Tisha B'Av, realigning our lives and ushering in a sweet, blessed new year.

The Message of Tu B'Av: Discovering Hashem's Love Welcome to Daily Bitachon . I apologize for not sharing this class prior to Tu B'Av , but its message remains timeless regardless. Our Rabbis teach us that the month of Av is not merely called Av —it is known as Menachem Av . Some communities announce, "Rosh Chodesh Menachem Av" , Sephardim similarly refer to the month of Elul as Elul Rachamim (the month of mercy). Two Halves of One Month The Chatam Sofer offers a profound insight regarding the month of Av. He explains that Menachem Av does not describe the entire month as a single unit, but rather highlights its two distinct halves: The First Half ( Av ): Associated with hardship and judgment. The Second Half ( Menachem ): Beginning on the 15th of Av ( Tu B'Av ), a new period of comfort ( nechama ) begins. Our Sages note that the word AV ( ) can stand for A rur (cursed) and B aruch (blessed): While we typically say on Rosh Hashanah, "May the year and its curses end; may the new year and its blessings begin," in a spiritual sense, this transition actually initiates on Tu B'Av. Just as the sap takes 45 days to rise up the tree—starting on Tu B'Shevat and bursting into new buds by Rosh Chodesh Nisan —so too does the spiritual energy for the High Holidays begin rising on Tu B'Av. The Miracle in the Desert Why is Tu B'Av celebrated as a holiday? Historically, it was the day the generation of the desert stopped dying. For 39 years following the decree of the Spies ( Meraglim ), every Tisha B'Av, those reaching the age of 60 would dig their own graves, lie in them, and approximately of the population would pass away. However, in the final year: On the 9th of Av , the people entered their graves as usual. The next morning, everyone woke up alive . Suspecting they had miscalculated the Hebrew calendar, they returned to their graves each night. On the 15th of Av , seeing the full moon, they realized the calendar was correct and the decree had officially ended. How Did the Sentence End Early? According to Tosafot (and as noted by Rav Wolbe), the people had assumed the 40-year decree began after the sin of the Spies. However, Hashem, in His immense mercy, counted "time served": He included the year they had already spent in the desert prior to the Spies. He linked the sin of the Golden Calf ( Chet HaEigel ) with the sin of the Spies—connecting the beginning and end of the Three Weeks. And based on the Golden calf , that happened a year before the spies the jail sentence began a year earlier The people entered their graves expecting the final wave of death, unaware that Hashem had mercifully shortened their sentence. When they arose alive on Tu B'Av, they realized: Hashem is not out to get us; Hashem is protecting and loving us. Although the miracle occurred on the 9th of Av, it was only on the 15th of Av—when they recognized Hashem's mercy—that it became a true holiday. Misinterpreting Hashem's Love Through History A recurring theme in Jewish history is the tendency to misinterpret Hashem's actions as hostility rather than love: Event Human Misinterpretation The Inner Reality Adam & Chava Believed the serpent's claim that Hashem withheld the fruit out of jealousy. Hashem instructed them for their ultimate benefit and protection. The Spies Believed Hashem brought them to the desert out of hatred ( "Because of Hashem's hatred for us..." ). Hashem brought them out of Egypt to give them the Holy Land. Destruction of the Temple When the enemies saw the Cherubim (angels) embracing during the destruction, the Jews feared Hashem was exposing them to mockery. According to the Parshat Derachim and the Chida ( Nachal Kedumim ), the embrace was Hashem's final parting hug before a long exile. The key to ending the "curses" of the year is changing our perspective: realizing that what seemed like harsh judgment was actually an expression of Hashem's divine care. The Power of the 15th Rebbe Yerucham Levovitz explains that when we bless the new moon, we do not focus on astronomical mechanics; we focus on what the moon symbolizes—the Jewish nation waxing and waning. Major Jewish holidays occur on the 15th of the month ( Pesach, Sukkot, Tu BiShvat, Tu B'Av ) because the full moon represents the moment when the month's spiritual influence ( Mazal ) reaches its peak maturity and strength. Moving Forward to the High Holidays Starting from Tu B'Av, it is time to prepare our hearts for the High Holidays. Key Takeaway: Realize that Hashem is a loving Father who seeks our best interest. By fixing the ancient misconception that Hashem's intentions are negative, we correct our spiritual course—moving from Rosh Hashanah to Sukkot ( Zman Simchatenu ), and ultimately to Shemini Atzeret , where we stand in joyful closeness with God.

Unanswered Prayers and the Treasury of Jewish Tears The Message of Parashat Va'etchanan We are continuing with the theme we started yesterday—a central message from Parashat Va'etchanan. Moshe Rabbeinu prayed to enter Eretz Yisrael and was not answered. This gives us chizuk (encouragement): when we pray and feel we are not being answered, it does not mean our prayer was wasted. We are no different than Moshe Rabbeinu. Rav Aryeh Levin and the Widowed Woman Rabbi Feuer brings down a beautiful story about Rav Aryeh Levin, a man of rare compassion and sensitivity. Once, a distraught, recently widowed woman came to him, crying uncontrollably. All his efforts to console her were to no avail. Finally, the widow said she would accept consolation if he could answer one question: "Please tell me: what happened to all my tears? I prayed and prayed for my late husband. I recited chapter after chapter of Tehillim and shed thousands upon thousands of tears. My very soul flowed into those tears. Where are they? Were they all wasted?" Gently, Rav Aryeh Levin replied: "After 120 years, when you leave this world and ascend to the Heavenly Tribunal, you will see how meaningful and precious your tears were. You will discover that Hashem Himself gathered them, counted every single teardrop, and treasured it like a precious gem. There is a beautiful line that Sephardim say in Selichot: העבר חטאתי אלהי ישועתי וגם את דמעתי שימה בנאדך ('Forgive my sins, God of my salvation, and place my tears in Your flask.') This based on a pasuk in Tehillim(56:9) נֹדִי סָפַרְתָּה אָתָּה שִׂימָה דִמְעָתִי בְנֹאדֶךָ הֲלֹא בְּסִפְרָתֶךָ : "You Yourself have counted my wanderings; place my tears into Your flask—are they not recorded in Your book?" The Gemara comments on this pasuk : "Whoever sheds tears over [the passing of] a virtuous person, the Holy One, Blessed be He, counts them and stores them in His treasure house, as it is stated: 'You Yourself have counted my wanderings; place my tears in Your flask, are they not in Your book?'" (Shabbat 105b) God has a flask where He places every Jewish tear. You will discover that whenever a harsh decree loomed over the Jewish people, one of your tears came and washed the evil away, making it null and void. Even a single sincere tear is a source of salvation." Hearing this, the woman burst into a fresh flow of tears—no longer tears of sorrow and grief, but tears of courage and hope. The "Tefillah Bank" and the Power of Unanswered Prayer The Sefer Chasidim teaches that prayers that go unanswered enter a "tefillah bank." We often view an unanswered prayer as if it were thrown in the garbage, but it is actually deposited in a celestial bank to be used later. It may even work for you in ways you don't yet see. The Chazon Ish and the Returned Generation Rav Yitzchak Scheiner zt"l (Rosh Yeshiva of Kamenetz Yerushalayim) spoke in the Deal Shul on Tisha B'Av many years ago, following Rav Matisyahu Salomon zt"l . Rav Matisyahu had spoken about the remarkable spiritual renewal of the Jewish people that we are witnessing today. Rav Scheiner shared how those words struck a personal chord, recalling his own journey from public school to becoming the Kamenetz Rosh Yeshiva. He shared the following story: In 1950, the Chazon Ish asked Rav Galinsky to keep an eye on a young bochur who had left his non-religious kibbutz to learn at the Ponevezh Yeshiva in Bnei Brak. Rav Galinsky noticed this was not an isolated case; there was a steady stream of young men returning to Yiddishkeit. Rav Galinsky asked the Chazon Ish: "Why do you suppose so many children are coming back to Yiddishkeit today, leaving behind the lifestyle of their non-committed parents?" The Chazon Ish answered: "The generation that left Yiddishkeit came from religious parents. Those parents saw what was happening to their children and—for whatever reason—could not stop them. They cried lonely, bitter tears. They prayed and they fasted, but it was too late to stem the tide. However, Hashem does not forget a Jewish tear. If those sincere tears did not save their own children, they were preserved to help their grandchildren and great-grandchildren. That is why these children are returning today—because Hashem never forgets a tear." A Personal Reflection: The Legacy of a Teardrop I will share something on a personal note as well. Many years ago, in the early 1980s, I met a great Rabbi—Chacham Abraham Raful (the uncle of Chacham Yosef Raful shlit"a from Ateret Torah). He was in his 90s at the time. When he heard my last name was Sutton, he asked, "Are you related to Abraham Sutton?" That was my great-grandfather. When I said yes, he told me a story he had witnessed firsthand: "Your great-grandfather lived in Syria, but he would travel to Yerushalayim on occasion. One morning in shul, I noticed he was weeping bitterly during his tefillah. Thinking he had a terrible personal problem, I asked him, 'Mr. Sutton, how can I help you? What's wrong?' He answered, 'Nothing is wrong. But every morning when I recite Birkat HaTorah and reach the words וצאצאנו וצאצאי צאצאנו ( 'our children and the descendants of our children' ), I think to myself: My children I know, and I can guide them to the best of my ability. But my grandchildren and great-grandchildren—what can I do for them? All I can do is cry for them. So that is what I do every morning during Birkot HaShachar.'" Chacham Abraham Raful concluded: "If he has religious grandchildren and great-grandchildren today, it is from those tears." I am living proof—a product of tears shed decades ago that are still working today. And while there were tears that seemingly didn't work immediately for certain family members, in the end, even those who experienced a temporary lapse returned. The spiritual gene was awakened by those prayers. Understanding the Full Impact of Tefillah The Steipler ( Chayei Olam , ch. 28) explains that the question "Why wasn't my prayer answered?" comes from a flawed perspective. We have no idea what would have happened without our prayers. How can we say a prayer wasn't answered when it may have prevented a far worse outcome? The Midrash notes that prayer sometimes accomplishes half: When a decree was issued that all of Aharon HaKohen's children should pass away, his and Moshe's prayers saved two of his four sons. While losing two sons was a horrific tragedy, the prayer mitigated a harsh decree and saved the remaining two. Tears with a Delayed Reaction: The 100-Year Siyum Sometimes, tears have a delayed reaction even for the very person they were meant for. (Jewish Observer, Dec. '98, p. 47) A man once made a Siyum Mishnayos on Shas for his father's yahrzeit , marking the 100th anniversary of his father's arrival in America. He retold the trials his family faced and how the "Goldene Medina" (America) had eroded their Yiddishkeit. He was the youngest of nine children, and his eight older siblings had already severed their connection to Yiddishkeit. His father's last hope was him—Mordechai. On his 16th birthday, Mordechai built up the courage to confront his father before davening : "Papa, I'm not going to Yeshiva College. I'm not going to lay tefillin anymore. I'm not going to shul on Shabbos. I want to be just like my brothers, sisters, and friends." The author recalled: "I raised my hands expecting a slap, but my father stopped and began to plead: 'Motke, du bist die letzte—you're the last one. My last hope. Don't say that. Don't mean it.' I was shocked to hear my father beg. 'Papa, please,' I said. 'I don't want to learn to be a rabbi. I just want to be like everyone else.' 'So don't be a rabbi!' he cried. 'Just stay a good Jew—put on tefillin, keep kosher, keep Shabbos. Don't become like the others. It's enough that I raised eight—I don't need nine! Motke, it's enough already!' My father burst into tears. I hugged him and cried too: 'Papa, please don't cry. It makes no sense to me to be frum, but I'll try.'" For 16-year-old Mordechai, those tears were soon forgotten as he eventually drifted away like his siblings. Decades later, however, the tears returned to him. When his own son wrote to him from Jerusalem saying he had enrolled in Yeshiva Ohr Somayach, Mordechai booked a flight to Israel to talk him out of his "foolishness." But as he prepared to leave, the memory of his father's tears came rushing back—and his heart changed. At the Siyum , he concluded: "On this centennial of my father's arrival in America and on his yahrzeit, I want to say: 'America, you beat us Jews bad, but you didn't win.' And to my father: 'Papa, you were beaten badly, but you didn't lose.' "

Daily Bitachon: The Power of Unanswered Prayer Welcome to Daily Bitachon . We are continuing our series on the topic of Nechama (comfort), as we enter the Seven Weeks of Nechama . We didn't have much time to cover Parashat Va'etchanan in detail, but it contains a critical message: Moshe Rabbeinu offered 515 prayers —the numerical value ( gematria ) of the word Va'etchanan ( ואתחנן ). After these 515 prayers, Hashem tells Moshe: "Rav lach" — "That is enough, do not speak to Me anymore on this matter." Our Sages tell us that had Moshe prayed just one more time , his prayer would have been answered. At first glance, this sounds like a depressing note on which to begin the season of comfort: Moshe Rabbeinu prays incessantly, yet he isn't answered! The Mystery of 515 What is the significance of the number 515? 1. The Connection to Every Tefilla The Megalleh Amukot points out that the standard gematria of the word tefilla ( תפלה ) is 515 . This means that every single prayer we recite connects back to this concept of Moshe Rabbeinu praying and not receiving the answer he sought. Furthermore, the Megalleh Amukot explains that this is why we recite Psalm 90 ( Tefilla L'Moshe ) on Shabbat, ending with: יראה אל עבדיך פעלך "Let Your work be shown to Your servants..." Moshe is pleading to see Hashem's handiwork by being granted entry into Eretz Yisrael . 2. The Mathematical Breakdown ( Pnei Yehoshua ) The Pnei Yehoshua ( Berachot 32a) offers a fascinating calculation: If you count the days from Tu B'Av until the 7th of Adar (the day Moshe Rabbeinu passed away), using the standard calendar alternating between full and short months: Av: 16 days Elul: 29 days Tishrei: 30 days Cheshvan: 29 days Kislev: 30 days Tevet: 29 days Shevat: 30 days Adar: 7 days Total: 200 days 200 days 3 daily prayers = 600 prayers. Subtract the 28 Shabbatot during this period (where personal petitions are not made): . On his final day, after 515 prayers, Hashem told Moshe to stop before he could recite the 516th prayer. Moshe began praying on Tu B'Av—the day of turnaround and joy—and prayed continuously until his final hours, only to be stopped just one prayer short of his goal. Why Did Hashem Stop Him? The Sefer Chasidim (ch. 612), quoting Rabbeinu Saadia Gaon, notes that one reason a prayer might not be answered is due to a final decree ( gzar din ). But why would Hashem issue a decree that prevents such sincere prayer from being accepted? The Or HaChaim HaKadosh explains that entering the Land was ultimately not for Moshe's (or the Jewish people's) true benefit : Anything Moshe Rabbeinu built was eternal because his spiritual attribute was Netzach (eternity). Had Moshe entered Eretz Yisrael and built the Beit HaMikdash , it could never have been destroyed. Consequently, when Israel sinned in the future, Hashem would not have been able to vent His wrath on wood and stone; the destruction would have fallen entirely upon the Jewish people themselves. By not entering the Land, Moshe effectively took a hit for the Jewish nation. As Moshe later reflects: וגם בי התאנף ה' בגללכם "Hashem was also angry with me on your account." Moshe realized that his prayer was held back for the ultimate protection and salvation of Am Yisrael . This realization is itself a profound level of nechama (comfort). Sometimes we pray relentlessly for something, but Hashem withholds it because He knows it is not ultimately good for us. A Second Calculation: High Holidays to Shemini Atzeret The Sefer HaToda'ah offers an alternate tradition: Moshe offered these prayers from Rosh Hashanah through the morning of Shemini Atzeret —the window of cosmic judgment. 21 days 24 hours = 504 hours. Add the 12 hours of the eve of Shemini Atzeret = 516 total units/prayers. Hashem stopped Moshe in that final 516th hour—the exact moment the decree was being sealed and handed down—to prevent the decree from being annulled, because the outcome was necessary for the greater good. The Lesson of Nechama: No Prayer is Wasted Why do we read Parashat Va'etchanan every year during these seven weeks of comfort? The Pri Tzadik explains that reading this portion gives us strength during this period. We often ask ourselves week after week: "Where is the comfort? Why aren't our prayers bringing the immediate redemption we long for?" The Torah reassures us: Do not feel defeated if your personal prayers seem unanswered. No prayer is ever wasted. כל המתאבל על ירושלים זוכה ורואה בנחמתה "Whoever mourns for Jerusalem merits to see her joy." The Steipler Gaon writes in Chayei Olam (ch. 28) that even if years or decades pass and you feel your prayers haven't worked, never give up . Every single prayer accomplishes something vital. He quotes a Midrash illustrating that some prayers are answered after 3 days, some after 30 years, and some even after 100 years. We cannot see the divine timetable, but every word of tefilla builds something lasting. If Moshe Rabbeinu—the greatest leader who ever lived—had prayers that were withheld for a higher, hidden good, we shouldn't lose heart when our own prayers seem to go unanswered. Trust that Hashem hears every word, and every prayer accomplishes its purpose in its proper time. We will continue more on this topic tomorrow, B'ezrat Hashem.

Welcome to Daily Bitachon The Gemara ( Berachot 31a ) tells us that the prophets always conclude their prophecies with words of praise and comfort; every book in Tanach ends on a positive note. This raises a famous question: If every book ends positively, why does Megillat Eicha end on such a dark note? כִּי אִם מָאֹס מְאַסְתָּנוּ, קָצַפְתָּ עָלֵינוּ עַד מְאֹד "For have You utterly rejected us? You have been extremely angry with us!" That certainly doesn't sound like a happy ending! (Note: While we customarily repeat the previous verse, "Hashiveinu," that is not how Yirmiyahu actually concluded the text.) Why would Yirmiyahu write an ending like that? Didn't he know the rule? Reading Eicha Through a New Lens The Reishit Chochma ( Sha'ar Ha'ahava, Perek 7 ) answers that we are actually misreading the pasuk. It isn't a statement of absolute rejection— it is a question : "Could it really be that You have utterly despised us? If You were truly angry enough to destroy us, You would have obliterated us completely by now!" The very fact that we are still around, enduring through exile and destruction, proves that Hashem is not out to destroy us. Rather, He is rousing us to do Teshuva . That is the ultimate goal: הֲשִׁיבֵנוּ ה' אֵלֶיךָ וְנָשׁוּבָה ( "Bring us back to You, Hashem, and we shall return" ). This aligns with Yeshayahu's prophecy: כִּי לֹא לְעוֹלָם אָרִיב, וְלֹא לָנֶצַח אֶקְצוֹף — "I will not contend forever, nor will I be angry for eternity." Hashem's anger is temporary, intended only to awaken our hearts. The Seven Weeks of Comfort ( Sheva D'nechemta ) This insight is crucial as we enter Shabbat Nachamu , ushering in the seven weeks of comfort. Many people are familiar with the "Three Weeks" of mourning, but fewer realize that they are followed by seven haftarahs of comfort ( Sheva D'nechemta ), corresponding to the three weeks of rebuke ( Tlata D'puranuta ). Rav Wolbe zt"l used to point out Hashem's incredible love for us: He gives us more than double the amount of comfort compared to the weeks of suffering! What Does Nechama Really Mean? We usually translate Nechama as "comfort" or "consolation." But to understand its true definition, we look to its first appearance in the Torah ( Bereishit 6:6 ): וַיִּנָּחֶם ה' כִּי עָשָׂה אֶת הָאָדָם בָּאָרֶץ "And Hashem repented/changed His mind that He had made man on the earth." Rashi explains that Nechama means a change of mind or perspective —recalculating one's approach. As Rashi notes: " וְכֵן כָּל לְשׁוֹן נִיחוּם שֶׁבַּמִּקְרָא " —this is the definition of Nechama throughout all of Tanach. Nechama means learning to view a situation through a completely different lens. Understanding the "Love Tap" There is a touching story about the Belzer Rebbe , who lost a child. Despite his tragic loss, he stayed remarkably strong. One of his friends asked him how he was able to maintain his fortitude. The Rebbe replied: "If a person is walking down the street and suddenly gets slapped on the back, he turns around ready to fight. But if he turns around and sees that it was his loving father giving him an affectionate pat, his entire reaction changes." When we realize that everything comes directly from Hakadosh Baruch Hu , we recognize that even the hardest moments are a "love tap" from our Father. That shift in perspective is Nechama . Masterclass in Perspective: Nachum & Rabbi Akiva 1. Nachum Ish Gamzu The master of this perspective shift was Nachum Ish Gamzu , whose very name shares the root of Nechama . On every single occurrence in his life, he declared: גַּם זוּ לְטוֹבָה ( "This too is for the best" ). He possessed the unique ability to reframe any situation and find the latent good within it. 2. Rabbi Akiva His prime student, Rabbi Akiva , famously taught: כָּל דְּעָבֵיד רַחֲמָנָא לְטָב עָבֵיד ( "Whatever the Merciful One does, He does for the good" ). When Rabbi Akiva traveled to a town and was refused entry, he was forced to sleep alone in the forest. One by one, his candle blew out, his rooster was eaten, and his donkey was killed. Yet, at every step, he maintained that it was for the good. The happy ending? Bandits attacked the town that very night; had he been in town, or had his candle or animals given away his position, he would have been captured. 3. Rabbi Akiva at the Temple Mount The famous Gemara at the end of Masechet Makkot relates that Rabbi Akiva and his colleagues walked past the destroyed Har HaBayit (Temple Mount) and saw a fox emerging from the site of the Holy of Holies. The Sages wept, but Rabbi Akiva laughed. The Sages asked: "Why are you laughing?" Rabbi Akiva responded: "Why are you crying?" They said: "A place so holy now has foxes walking through it—how can we not cry?" Rabbi Akiva explained: "Now that I see the prophecies of destruction fulfilled in full detail, I know with absolute certainty that the prophecies of ultimate redemption will be fulfilled as well!" On two separate occasions where Rabbi Akiva reframed a tragedy into hope, the Sages responded: עֲקִיבָא נִחַמְתָּנוּ, עֲקִיבָא נִחַמְתָּנוּ "Akiva, you have comforted us! Akiva, you have comforted us!" He didn't change the physical reality—he changed their perspective. Re-evaluating the Fall In Amos (5:2) , a verse states: נָפְלָה לֹא תוֹסִיף קוּם בְּתוּלַת יִשְׂרָאֵל (Superficially translated as: "The maiden of Israel has fallen and will never rise again.") However, the Gemara ( Berachot 4b ) offers an entirely different way to read the verse: "She has fallen, and she cannot fall any further—therefore, Rise, O Maiden of Israel!" The Iyor Devash explains this with a simple parable: If you trip while near a chair, you fall onto the chair. If you trip near a couch, you fall onto the couch. But once you hit the solid ground, you cannot fall any lower . The only option left is to get up! This is why we sit on the floor on Tisha B'Av: It symbolizes that we have hit rock bottom. From the floor, there is nowhere left to go but up. From the Floor to Rosh Hashanah Once we hit the bottom, we rise to the Betulah (the maiden)—which represents the Mazal of the upcoming month of Elul, a time of deep love between Hashem and the Jewish people. The Sefer Imrei Pinchas notes that sitting on the floor on Tisha B'Av is actually an Eit Ratzon (an auspicious time of favor), as it begins our spiritual construction toward Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. The Ben Ish Chai ( Benayahu, Berachot 4b ) quotes the Zohar: When Israel falls so low that they cannot get up on their own, Hashem Himself steps in: בַּיּוֹם הַהוּא אָקִים אֶת סֻכַּת דָּוִיד הַנֹּפֶלֶת ( "On that day, I will raise up the fallen Tabernacle of David" ). This explains why Dovid HaMelech omitted the letter Nun (which stands for Nofel / falling) from the Ashrei prayer—so we would never think that a fall is permanent. Even though the very next verse provides comfort— סוֹמֵךְ ה' לְכָל הַנֹּפְלִים ( "Hashem supports all who fall" )—the Nun was omitted so nobody would misinterpret it and fall into despair ( Ma'ari Kair, Shemot 10:1 ). Hope Above All Else Avoiding despair is so critical that the Beit Yosef ( OC 554:24 ) records an ancient custom established by the early Sages ( Zekenim HaRishonim ): Women would wash their hair on Tisha B'Av after Chatzot (midday). This custom was based on the Yerushalmi's teaching that Mashiach is born on Tisha B'Av afternoon. Why introduce this practice on a fast day? כְּדֵי שֶׁלֹּא תִּתְיָאֲשׁוּ מִן הַגְּאֻלָּה "So that they should not give up hope in the Redemption!" The Sages specifically instituted this for women of that era who could not read the prophetic texts, ensuring they would not walk away from Tisha B'Av in despair. Although we do not follow this practice today, it highlights a profound principle: We must never leave Tisha B'Av on a down note. We Won the War: The Lesson of Gid HaNasheh The Zohar (cited in Melefet Sappirim ) hints that the four fast days are embedded in the commandment of Gid HaNasheh (the forbidden sciatic nerve): עַל כֵּן לֹא יֹאכְלוּ בְנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל אֶת גִּיד הַנָּשֶׁה "Therefore the Children of Israel shall not eat the displaced sinew..." This prohibition stems from the nocturnal wrestling match between Yaakov Avinu and the Angel of Esav. Why does the Torah require us to remember this struggle for all eternity? The Sefer HaChinuch ( Mitzvah 3 ) explains: This mitzvah is a perpetual guarantee to the Jewish people. Even though we suffer through terrible hardships and persecutions at the hands of the nations, we are guaranteed that we will never be destroyed. We will endure forever, and the Redeemer will come. The angel ( Sar shel Esav ) tried to uproot Yaakov, injuring his thigh. Yet, as the Torah tells us, the sun rose and healed Yaakov. So too, no matter how much our enemies pain us, the sun of redemption will shine and heal us. When we reflect on our history, what should our ultimate takeaway be? We won the war. We struggled, we wrestled, but we survived—and we will prevail. Looking Forward This process culminates on Yom Kippur, when we take the Se'ir (representing Esav, the Ish Se'ir ) and push away the Se'ir La'Azazel . We emerge from these days stronger, purified, and resilient. When we comfort a mourner, we say: תְּנָחֲמוּ מִן הַשָּׁמַיִם, תִּרְאוּ בְּנֶחָמַת צִיּוֹן "May you be comforted from Heaven, and may you behold the consolation of Zion." This is not merely a wish for sadness to fade—it is a prayer for a new perspective . B'ezrat Hashem , as we move through these seven weeks of comfort, may the prophecies of נַחֲמוּ נַחֲמוּ עַמִּי ( "Comfort, comfort My people" ) penetrate our hearts and transform the way we view our lives and our future!

Welcome to Daily Bitachon Today we have a double dose! Dose One: Shabbat in general. Dose Two: Shabbat Nachamu and the concept of Nechama (comfort). The Antics of the Antagonists This discussion is based on Midrash Eicha (Introduction, Letter 17) , where Rabbi Abbahu quotes a verse from Tehillim (69:13): יָשִׂיחוּ בִי יֹשְׁבֵי שָׁעַר "Those who sit by the gate talk about me..." Who is this referring to? It refers to the Goyim sitting in their theaters and circuses— וּנְגִינוֹת שׁוֹתֵי שֵׁכָר —making up drinking songs. As they sit around as drunks, they begin to mock, ridicule, and make fun of the Jewish people. The Midrash outlines a specific list of these taunts, every single one of them targeting our observance of Shabbat . The Four Taunts of Shabbat 1. The Carob Consumption First, they say: "We must be cautious with our spending so we don't end up eating carobs like the Jews!" They ridiculed how generously Jews spend money for Shabbat, foolishly believing it would impoverish us and force us to subsist on carobs. The Reality: Who gets the last laugh? We keep Shabbat, we remain successful, and as for those drunkards—nobody even knows what happened to them. 2. The Shabbat Garment Next comes a two-fold complaint. Someone asks his friend: "What is considered a long time to suffer?" Answer: "The time it takes to launder a Jew's Shabbat cloak." Why did they consider this a long time? Because they claimed Jews were so impoverished that they wore the same garment all week and only washed it on Erev Shabbat . Naturally, a garment worn all week takes significant time and effort to scrub clean. Alternatively, the Midrash uses the words כַּמָּה שָׁנִים אַתְּ בָּעֵי מְחֵי , which can be understood as: "How long do you want to live?" ( Meche coming from Chayut / life). Answer: "As long as a Jew's Shabbat cloak lasts!" Meaning, since Jews only wear their Shabbat clothes once a week, those clothes last a very long time. Historical Note: Both taunts target our respect for Shabbat through our special clothing. Throughout history, there were times of intense poverty. It is told that Rav Shach Zt"l used to own only one shirt. On Erev Shabbat , he would wash it, sit on the roof in his undershirt and tzitzit learning Torah while it dried, and then put it on for Shabbat. Today, baruch Hashem, we have dedicated Shabbat clothing that lasts long enough to eventually be passed down as weekday wear. Regardless of their taunts, here we are, continuing to honor Shabbat L'chvod Shabbat . 3. The Broken Beds & Baldness Next, they brought a Mumus into the theater with a shaven head. (A "Mumus" is explained by some as a mime or clown, and by others as a mummy.) They would ask the crowd: "Why is this mime's head shaven?" They would answer: "These are the Shabbat-observing Jews! They toil all week for Shabbat, but because they squander all their money on Shabbat expenses, they become so poor they have no wood left to cook with. So, they break apart their wooden beds for firewood! Because they have no beds, they sleep on the dirt ground. Sleeping in the dust makes their hair fall out—and that's why baldness is a Jewish trait!" 4. The Price of Oil Building on that absurdity, the nations added a final taunt: "Now that the Jews sleep on the ground and are covered in dust, they have to constantly smear themselves with oil to wash away the bad odor. Because of their high demand for oil, the price of the commodity has skyrocketed—and that's why oil is so expensive!" History Repeats Itself Nothing has changed in thousands of years! Blame the Jews for the price of gas. Blame the Jews for the price of oil. According to them, Jews consume all the oil to clean themselves because they burned their beds for Shabbat! It's a classic conspiracy theory—pure fake news with zero basis in reality. Meanwhile, back in the real world: We are celebrating Shabbat. We aren't burning our beds. We aren't sleeping on the floor. Gas prices may be high, but that has to do with Iran and the Strait of Hormuz—not us! They will continue to scapegoat us, mock us, and blame us. But in the end, we get the last laugh . וַתִּשְׂחַק לְיוֹם אַחֲרוֹן "She laughs at the final day." (Mishlei 31:25) They can taunt our Shabbat all they like, but they will be the ones weeping when we reach יּוֹם שֶׁכֻּלּוֹ שַׁבָּת ( Yom Shekulo Shabbat )—the eternal Shabbat of Olam Haba .

The Core Mindset of Tisha B'Av: The Pain of Disconnect Welcome to Daily Bitachon . As we approach Tisha B'Av, we must identify our fundamental mindset. We often get caught up in the minute details of an event and lose sight of its core theme—or, as the saying goes, lose sight of the forest for the trees . Consider Rosh Hashanah: if you ask people for its central theme, they might say it's the Day of Judgment, the New Year, or the start of the Aseret Yemei Teshuva (Ten Days of Repentance). However, the Ramchal distills it into just two words: Yom Malkeinu — the day of our King . Judgment and Teshuva naturally flow out of that primary reality: Hashem is our King. The same principle applies to Tisha B'Av. What Is the Ultimate Focal Point? Is it mourning the Churban (destruction of the Temple)? Yes. Is it focusing on the sins that caused it, like Lashon Hara and Sinat Chinam (baseless hatred)? Of course. Is it stirring our emotions about the historical tragedies of the Jewish nation, including the Holocaust? That definitely helps. But what lies beneath it all? What is the core theme? Rav Nosson Wachtfogel zt"l explains that our focus during these days is rooted in a famous Gemara in Masechet Berachot (3a). The Gemara relates that Rabbi Yossi once entered a ruined building in Yerushalayim to pray. On his way out, he met Eliyahu HaNavi, who asked him, "Did you hear anything in there?" Rabbi Yossi responded that he heard a Heavenly Voice crying out: "Woe to the Father who exiled His children, and woe to the children who were exiled from their Father's table!" Eliyahu HaNavi revealed that this Voice does not cry out just once; it cries out three times every single day when the Jewish people recite Kaddish . From here we see that the focal point of Tisha B'Av is mourning the disconnect from our Father in Heaven . Understanding the Disconnect Our Father is alive, and we are alive—yet there is a functional separation between us. Mourning this is no different than mourning the loss of a relative. Fundamentally, death is a separation of the body from the soul. Similarly, the Beis HaMikdash became disconnected from the Shechina (Divine Presence). The physical destruction of the Beis HaMikdash was merely an external symptom of an internal, spiritual disconnect. As the Midrash notes, a Heavenly Echo mocked the ancient conquerors: "You ground pre-ground flour." The building was already hollow; it was a body without a soul because the connection had already been severed. The phrase "exiled from their Father's table" perfectly describes our current reality: When the Beis HaMikdash stood: We sat directly at our Father's table in His revealed presence. Today: We still receive care packages from Him—He sustains, feeds, and protects us—but we can no longer see Him directly. Hashem created the human framework of parents and children as a tangible model so we could comprehend our relationship with Him. The ultimate Father is Avinu SheBaShamayim . While fathers miss their children deeply, children going off to camp don't always miss their parents with the same intensity. Why Is Kaddish in Aramaic? This brings us back to the Gemara: why do we recite Kaddish in Aramaic? We noted that Hashem moans over our distance when He hears us say Kaddish . When a son recites Kaddish for a physical parent, it serves as a stark reminder to Hashem of the grander, broken Father-Son connection— if only His children mourned the cosmic disconnect between themselves and their Ultimate Father with the same intensity. This emotional weight is precisely why Kaddish is in Aramaic. As Tosafot explains, the ministering angels do not understand Aramaic. We intentionally use this language because if the angels understood the depth of Hashem's grief over His exiled children, they would attempt to block the prayer just to spare Him the pain. Furthermore, the angels are jealous of our unique status; they must wait for the Jewish people to praise Hashem first because we are His children . Awakened Mercy: The Father-Child Connection We find another instance where Hashem's mercy is aroused by a parent-child disconnect in Masechet Chullin (139a). Regarding the mitzvah of Shilluach HaKan (sending away the mother bird), the Torah states: "If a bird's nest happens to be before you..." You might have thought you were required to search mountains and valleys for a nest, but the verse teaches that it applies only if you happen upon it. Rav Yair Chaim Bacharach ( Chavot Yair , Responsum 67) deduces that if you stumble upon a nest, you are obligated to send away the mother bird, even if you do not want the eggs. Why? He explains based on the Zohar: the rationale behind this mitzvah is to invoke Divine mercy on the mother bird, which in turn awakens Divine mercy for the Jewish people in exile. Whenever Hashem sees a parent bemoaning a child—or a child bemoaning a parent—it triggers a powerful awakening of Heavenly compassion. As the Tanna DeBei Eliyahu Rabbah (Ch. 31) states—quoted by Rabbi Chaim Palachi in Mo'ed L'Chol Chai (15): "Hashem sits and waits for Klal Yisrael even more than a father waits for his son or a wife for her husband, hoping they will do Teshuva so that He may redeem them and rebuild the Beis HaMikdash for them." Rabbi Chaim Palachi adds: "Every time I read this passage, my eyes flow with tears. How is it possible that the King of Glory, the Eternal God, sits and waits for us to return to Him just so He can bestow upon us every good in the world—yet each person continues following the stubbornness of their heart, with no one taking it to heart to say, 'Come, let us return to Hashem'?" The Tree Draped in White A beautiful story told by Rabbi Baruch Chait/Rabbi Paysach Spiro illustrates this bond: A young man had a bitter falling out with his father. Fueled by anger and rebellion, he packed his bags, walked out of his parents' house, and went off to live life on his own terms. Years passed, and things went downhill. He hit rock bottom—broke, exhausted, lonely, and filled with deep regret for how he had treated his family. He desperately wanted to come home, but he was overwhelmed by shame and fear, assuming his parents had disowned him. Unable to bring himself to call or walk up to the front door, he wrote a letter: "Dear Mom and Dad, I know I broke your hearts and I have no right to ask to come back. But I am taking the train home next week, and the tracks run right along the back of our property. If you can ever find it in your hearts to forgive me and let me come home, please tie a white cloth on the old tree next to the tracks. If the train passes and I see a white sheet, I will get off at the station and come home. But if the tree is bare, I will stay on the train and never bother you again." The day arrived, and the young man boarded the train. As it approached his hometown, his heart pounded so fast with anxiety that he couldn't bring himself to look out the window. He turned to the stranger next to him and whispered, "Sir, our house is coming up around the next bend on the left. Can you please look out the window and tell me if there is a white sheet hanging on the tree by the tracks?" The train rounded the bend. The stranger looked out, gasped, and put a hand on the boy's shoulder: "Son, look for yourself." The boy opened his eyes. There wasn't just one sheet on the tree— every single branch was draped in white. White towels, sheets, and tablecloths hung from the clothesline, draped over the roof of the barn, and tied along the fence. His parents hadn't just put up a signal; they wanted to make sure there was no possible way he could miss the message: They were waiting for him, they loved him, and he was welcome home. This is precisely how Hashem feels toward us. Let us keep that close to our hearts this Tisha B'Av.

Daily Bitachon: Erev Tisha B'Av Message Welcome to Daily Bitachon for our Erev Tisha B'Av message. As we prepare for Tisha B'Av, one of our essential obligations is to trace the roots of our exile—to look into the sources and understand why we fell and went into Galut . 1. The Root Cause: Disdain for Torah In Midrash Rabbah (in the introductions, and specifically where Rav Huna and Rav Yirmeya quote Shmuel bar Yitzchak), we find a striking statement: Hashem was willing to forgo punishment for the three cardinal sins—idolatry, promiscuity, and bloodshed—but He did not forgo punishment for the disdain of Torah ( Miyuso shel Torah ). This is explicitly derived from the prophecy in Yirmiyahu: "For what reason did the land perish..." (Yirmiyahu 9:11) The verse does not say the land was destroyed because of idolatry, immorality, or murder. Hashem explicitly answers: "...Because they have forsaken My Torah." The Midrash continues in the name of Rav Chiyya bar Abba, quoting the verse: "They have forsaken Me, and My Torah they did not keep" ( Yirmiyahu 16:11 ). Upon which Hashem says: הַלְוַאי אוֹתִי עָזָבוּ וְתוֹרָתִי שָׁמָרוּ "If only they had forsaken Me, but still kept My Torah! For the light within it would have brought them back to the good." Resolving the Contradiction This presents an obvious problem: The Gemara in Yoma (9b) explicitly states that the First Beit HaMikdash was destroyed because of the three cardinal sins! Furthermore, these three sins carry the death penalty—how could neglecting Torah study be considered a worse trigger for destruction? Rav Aharon Kotler zt"l ( Mishnat Rabbi Aharon , Vol. 1, p. 28) answers: The Power of Remedy: The three cardinal sins are undeniably grave. However, as long as the Jewish people engaged in Torah study, Hashem delayed their punishment. Why? Because the Torah possesses an inherent light that eventually guides a person back to Teshuva (repentance). Loss of the Shield: Once they abandoned and held disdain for Torah study, they discarded the very tool that could save them. Without the antidote, their sins stood unaddressed, and their doom was sealed. Rav Elchanan Wasserman's Mashal: In warfare, two armies may trade blows, but if one side manages to destroy the enemy's armory or airfields, the target becomes completely defenseless. We are in a constant war with the Yetzer Hara (evil inclination). Hashem created the Yetzer Hara , but He created Torah as its antidote ( "Bara'ti Yetzer, Bara'ti Torah Tavlin" ). Abandoning Torah means disarming ourselves in the middle of battle. 2. The Battle with the Sar shel Esav The ongoing historical struggle between Yaakov and Esav is captured in the all-night wrestling match between Yaakov Avinu and the guardian angel of Esav ( Sar shel Esav ). The Timing: Sefarim point out that this wrestling match took place on the eve of Tisha B'Av . The Remint in the Text: The Torah notes that the angel injured the גִּיד הַנָּשֶׁה ( Gid HaNasheh ): גִּיד ( Gid ) hints at the three fast days: ג (Gimmel) = Tzom Gedaliah (3rd of Tishrei) י (Yud) = Asara B'Tevet (10th of Tevet) ד (Dalet) = Shiva Asar B'Tammuz (17th of Tammuz, the 4th month) את ( HaNasheh ) acronym for Tisha B'Av. ת שעה א ב Why Attack Yaakov? Notice that the angel did not attack Avraham (who represents Chesed ) or Yitzchak (who represents Tefillah ). He attacked Yaakov , who represents Torah . Esav's angel targeted the ultimate weapon of the Jewish people. Yaakov's Body (Talmidei Chachamim) --> Could not harm Yaakov's Thighs (Tomchei D'Oraita) --> Successfully struck As the Chafetz Chaim explains (citing the Zohar), the legs/thighs symbolize Tomchei D'Oraita —the supporters who uphold the Torah. The angel realized he could not destroy the Talmidei Chachamim directly, so he tried to weaken the supporters' appreciation for Torah. The Modern Reframe Current Support: Baruch Hashem , in our generation, we are witnessing unprecedented support for Torah learning globally, with initiatives raising hundreds of millions of dollars to sustain Eretz Yisrael's centers of learning. Rav Yaakov Hillel's Insight: When governments reduce funding for Torah institutions, people naturally worry. But Rav Yaakov Hillel offers a profound reframe: Hashem wants the Torah to be sustained purely by those who cherish it—the Charedim v'Dvar Hashem . He is elevating the purity and stature of Torah support. 3. Mourning and the Absence of Torah Why did Esav wait to attack Yaakov? יִקְרְבוּ יְמֵי אֵבֶל אָבִי וְאַהַרְגָה אֶת יַעֲקֹב אָחִי "The days of mourning for my father draw near; then I will kill my brother Yaakov." (Bereshit 27:41) Classic commentators explain: As long as Yaakov was immersed in Torah study, the rule of "Hakol kol Yaakov" applied, and Esav had no power over him. Esav specifically waited for a time of mourning ( Aveilut ) , because a mourner is forbidden from studying Torah. He calculated that during an absence of Torah study, Yaakov would be vulnerable to attack. On Tisha B'Av—the ultimate day of national mourning—we do not engage in standard Torah study. Yet on this very day of darkness, the light of Mashiach is born to turn our mourning into joy. 4. The Halacha of Netilat Yadayim There are only two days in the year when we do not wash our hands up to the wrist for morning Netilat Yadayim (washing only up to the knuckles): Tisha B'Av and Yom Kippur . Day The Spiritual Reality Why We Wash Only to the Knuckles Tisha B'Av Peak power of the Sitra Achra (Esav) The spiritual impurity ( Tuma ) is so thick that standard washing cannot completely remove it; we do only the bare minimum required for the morning. Yom Kippur Peak power of Kedusha (Holiness) Esav is banished ( Se'ir La'Azazel ). The atmosphere is so elevated that impurity has no foothold—only a minimal wash is necessary. Conclusion Our goal this Tisha B'Av is to bridge these two realities: to transform the heavy, vulnerable energy of Tisha B'Av into the pure, triumphant elevated state of Yom Kippur. By recognizing that Torah learning is our ultimate lifeline and protective weapon, may we strengthen our dedication to Limud Torah and its support, and merit seeing the ultimate transformation of this day into a festival of comfort and redemption.

The Root Cause of the Churban Welcome to Daily Bitachon. Today, we are discussing the Churban Beit Hamikdash (the destruction of the Holy Temple). While the Gemara provides many different reasons and causes for this tragedy, there is one famous cause mentioned by the Prophet Yeshaya ( Yeshayahu ) that, at first glance, seems remarkably minute. Speaking in the name of God, the prophet states: "Yaan כי נגש העם הזה ( Because this nation has approached Me ), befiv uvisfatav kibduni ( with their mouths and their lips they have honored Me ), but libo rishak mimeni ( their heart is far away from Me ), ותהי יראתם אותי מצות אנשים מלמדה ( and their fear of Me is just a commandment of men learned by rote )." The prophet concludes that because of this mechanical, rote behavior, the Beit Hamikdash was destroyed. At first glance, this is difficult to comprehend. It seems incredibly harsh to destroy the Holy Temple simply because people are performing mitzvot out of habit. Even if it is a flaw, it hardly seems like a crime—let alone one warranting such a severe punishment. Nobody killed, nobody stole; they were actively serving God, they just lacked heart. It was what we call "lip service"—mouths and lips moving, but no heart behind them. The Death of a Nation To understand this connection, we have to look at how the Kuzari describes the Churban Beit Hamikdash . He explains that the destruction of the Temple was, in a sense, the death of the Jewish nation. When the Beit Hamikdash was destroyed, we essentially lost our collective soul. The Kuzari compares our ongoing exile to a buried body that slowly decomposes over time until only dust is left—which is the exact stage we find ourselves in today. We are like "corpse dust." It is a remnant that still originates from a living body—it contains traces of DNA and RNA, meaning it isn't a mere rock or a plant—but it is the leftover remains of a human being. Ultimately, however, it can be reconstituted. When a person dies, medical records might list the cause of death as heart failure, kidney failure, liver failure, or brain failure. The vital organs simply shut down. But suppose the root cause of all that organ failure was Hepatitis B. If you ask the ICU doctors why the patient died, they will list the organs that failed. But if you want to know what actually killed him, you might find out that weeks prior, he was sitting at a fair and someone sneezed near a cherry, contaminating it. The man ate the cherry, caught the virus, and slowly deteriorated. If you say, "Come on, cherries don't kill people," it sounds extreme and far-fetched—unless you understand how microscopic bacteria and viruses work. The same principle applies to the death of a nation. The ultimate catalyst is rarely something open, obvious, or dramatic. The final outcome is clear, but Chazal (our Sages) wanted to unearth the microscopic root cause. For instance, the Gemara notes elsewhere that the land was lost because the people did not recite Birkat HaTorah (the blessing over the Torah) before studying. That seems like a minute detail. It wasn't the immediate cause of death, but it was the microscopic beginning. That initial lack of respect for the Torah was the contamination that eventually grew into total system failure. A Fruit Peel Without the Fruit What exactly is so deeply flawed about lip service that it could trigger such a catastrophic downfall? In Shaar Cheshbon HaNefesh , the Chovot HaLevavot provides a famous mashal (parable). He explains that a prayer without heart is like a fruit peel without the fruit, or a body without a soul. A body without a soul is a corpse; a fruit peel without the fruit is an empty facade. The Parable of the Empty Fruit Imagine a man who wants to honor the king. He prepares a lavish bowl filled with the most exotic fruits imaginable: out-of-season watermelons, mangoes, pineapples, dragon fruit, and lychees. The king is incredibly excited. But when he cuts into the watermelon, it's completely hollow. He cuts open the mango, and it's empty. They are nothing but empty shells without any substance. The Chovot HaLevavot says that this is exactly what happens when we pray without heart. It is a shell. Our bodies are there, our lips are moving, and our frames are swaying, but we are not actually there. We have checked out, we are thinking about something else, and our minds are somewhere else entirely. This hollow performance isn't limited to prayer; it shows up across a whole host of areas. The Beis Halevi and the Chovot HaLevavot both note that the same thing happens with bitachon (trust in God). You can easily sing songs about bitachon , but have absolutely nothing shifting inside your heart. God wants the heart— Rachmana liba ba'ei . An external shell without internal devotion is worthless. The Already-Ground Flour Rav Shlomo Wolbe explains this concept using a well-known Gemara. The Sages tell us that when the enemy breached the walls and destroyed the Temple, a heavenly echo ( Bat Kol ) rang out and said: Kimcha techina tachanta — "You have ground flour that was already ground." The voice was telling the invaders, "Do not think you are the ones who destroyed the Beit Hamikdash. It was already destroyed." What does it mean that it was already destroyed? It means the Beit Hamikdash had already become an empty shell. The Shechinah (Divine Presence) had already departed; the building was just an edifice without a soul. And why did the soul of the Temple leave? Because the Jewish people were living without heart and soul. The physical state of the Beit Hamikdash simply mirrored the spiritual state of the nation. Practical Takeaway Being involved in mitzvot without heart is a profound danger. The Chovot HaLevavot dedicated his entire masterpiece, Duties of the Heart , to this single premise: we cannot suffice with just doing things mechanically; we must put our hearts into them. As we approach Tisha B'Av, we will be focusing heavily on this topic. If we want to know how to heal the Churban , it is wonderful to say we want to be vigilant against heart attacks and organ failure. But real vigilance means making sure our "cherries" are clean before we eat them. We have to work on these microscopic, early root causes—beginning with moving past rote behaviors and bringing our hearts back to our service of God.

The Holiday of Distance: Understanding Tisha B'Av as a Moed In Alei Shur (Volume 2, Page 411), Rav Shlomo Wolbe zt"l addresses a well-known halachic anomaly noted by the Shulchan Aruch : We omit Tachanun (supplicatory prayers) on Tisha B'Av because the prophet Yirmiyahu refers to the day as a Moed —a designated time or holiday. How can a day of national tragedy and mourning be considered a festival? What does it mean for Tisha B'Av to be called a Moed ? The Three States of Spiritual Connection Quoting his teacher, Reb Yeruchom Levovitz zt"l , Rav Wolbe explains that the word Moed stems from the concept of a meeting or encounter. Naturally, we understand a holiday as a time of spiritual proximity—a Moed shel Kiruv (a holiday of closeness). How, then, can there be a Moed shel Richuk —a holiday defined by distance? Rav Wolbe explains that human spiritual awareness exists on three distinct tiers: Closeness ( Kiruv ): Active, conscious alignment with Hashem. Distance ( Richuk ): Acknowledged separation, where one feels the pain of being far from Hashem. Ambivalence ( Avad Cheshbon ): Total spiritual apathy, delusion, or loss of self-awareness. Rav Wolbe draws upon Rabbeinu Yona ( Sha'arei Teshuva , Gate 2, Letter 9), who describes the lowest spiritual state: individuals whose hearts have lost all self-accounting ( mikerav libam avad cheshbon ). Described in Yishayahu as a "nation that has lost all counsel" ( goi ovad etzot hemah ), people in this state drift along without a true barometer. They may view themselves as righteous and perform mitzvot , yet their deeds are tainted by self-justification. As the Gemara notes of self-righteous hypocrites, they act corruptly like Zimri yet expect the reward of Phinehas. The Delusion Before the Destruction This state of self-delusion defined the generation immediately preceding the destruction of the First Beit HaMikdash . Yirmiyahu rebuked the nation: "How can you say, 'I am not defiled, I have not followed the Ba'alim'? Look at your way in the valley, know what you have done..." — Yirmiyahu 2:23 The prophet's primary indictment was not merely the sins themselves, but the complete denial and rationalization of those sins: "Behold, I will enter into judgment with you because you say, 'I have not sinned'" (Yirmiyahu 2:35). As the Yalkut Shimoni comments on this verse, Hashem's judgment came specifically because the people refused to admit their wrongdoing. Hashem extends mercy to one who acknowledges and forsakes sin ( "Modeh v'ozev yerucham" ), but genuine repentance is impossible when one lives in denial. The Realization: A Return to Truth When the Beit HaMikdash was destroyed, the delusion shattered. In that catastrophic moment, the Jewish people experienced a profound epiphany: I thought I was connected, but I am entirely far away. While devastating, that realization was a vital reality check. Recognizing one's distance is itself the beginning of a relationship. In human terms, a married couple undergoing a period of distant dynamic still has a relationship; it is a far cry from complete dissolution or indifference. When a person feels the pain of being distant from Hashem, they re-anchor themselves in reality. Hashem is a God of truth, and His presence cannot reside in a life built on self-deception. When we confront our distance and grieve over it, we connect to that essential point of truth. As Dovid HaMelech writes: "Hashem is close to all who call upon Him, to all who call upon Him in truth." — Tehillim 145:18 Reawakening on Tisha B'Av This insight redefines how we approach Tisha B'Av each year. Chazal teach that any generation in which the Beit HaMikdash is not rebuilt, it is as though it was destroyed in their time. If the generation of the Beit HaMikdash —a generation operating at a lofty spiritual frequency—could fall trap to self-justification, how much more vulnerable are we? Steeped in physical comfort and modern distractions, it is easy to slip into a state of avad cheshbon , where the absence of the Beit HaMikdash hardly registers. Tisha B'Av serves as our annual spiritual reset. By mourning the loss and confronting the immense gap between where we are and where we ought to be, we transform our apathy into awareness. Recognizing our distance becomes our point of contact with Hashem, establishing Tisha B'Av as a true Moed —the essential gateway to the High Holidays and the call to "search and examine our ways, and return to Hashem" ( Eichah 3:40 ).

The Connection Between Shabbat and the Beit HaMikdash Welcome to Embrace Shabbat. It is Erev Shabbat Chazon—the Shabbat where we are meant to reflect on the Beit HaMikdash (Holy Temple) and its destruction. As we have mentioned in the past, the Gemara teaches: לא נחרבה ירושלים אלא בשביל שחללו את השבת "Jerusalem was destroyed only because of the desecration of Shabbat." There is a profound connection between the Beit HaMikdash and Chilul Shabbat (desecration of Shabbat). Conversely, there is an equally strong connection between honoring Shabbat and the ultimate rebuilding of the Beit HaMikdash. We see this clearly in Lecha Dodi , where we sing: מקדש מלך עיר מלוכה (Sanctuary of the King, royal city) קומי צאי מתוך ההפכה (Arise, leave from the midst of the upheaval) רב לך שבת בעמק הבכא (Too long have you dwelt in the valley of tears) In the very next stanza, we sing: Hit'orari, hit'orari, ki va orech ("Awake, awake, for your light has come"). In the middle of accepting Shabbat upon ourselves, we seemingly go off on a tangent about rebuilding the Beit HaMikdash. But it is not a tangent at all; accepting Shabbat is intrinsically linked to the rebuilding of the Temple. Parallels of Holiness On this Shabbat leading into Tisha B'Av, let us focus on these connections. Our Shabbat rituals directly mirror the service of the Beit HaMikdash: Shabbat Candles: Symbolize the Western Wall of the Menorah. Two Loaves (Challah): Mirror the Lechem HaPanim (Showbread). Kiddush Wine: Mirrors the Nisuch HaYayin (Wine Libations). Zemirot (Songs): Mirror the songs sung by the Levi'im. Washing in Warm Water: The custom to wash hands and feet before Shabbat corresponds to the Kohanim, who had to wash their hands and feet before serving. The Hierarchy of Kedusha (Holiness) The Beit HaMikdash is the place where the Shechinah (Divine Presence) rests, and Shabbat is the time where the Shechinah rests. In a way, Shabbat holds a unique level of holiness. Jewish tradition outlines three dimensions of Kedusha : Holy People ( Am Yisrael ) Holy Times ( Shabbat/Chagim ) Holy Places ( Beit HaMikdash ) We determine priority by what happens during a conflict. If Shabbat conflicts with saving a Jewish life, saving the life trumps Shabbat. If building the Beit HaMikdash conflicts with Shabbat, we pause the construction because Shabbat takes precedence. The human being is the greatest vessel for the Shechinah—a walking Sefer Torah. Next comes holy time, which is spiritual and non-physical ( Mekadesh Yisrael ve'hazmanim ). Finally, there are holy places and items. Every Shabbat, we step into a sanctuary of time. Just as entering the Beit HaMikdash gave a person a tangible feeling of the Divine, entering Shabbat is entering a holy zone. Great individuals throughout history could actually feel the Neshamah Yeteirah (additional soul) enter them without ever looking at a clock. Avoiding "False Testimony" in Retzei Generally, we do not speak directly about the destruction or the comfort of the Temple on Shabbat, except for the prayer of Retzei in Birkat Hamazon . However, the Pele Yoetz writes that one must be exceedingly careful during the Shabbat meals to remember the Churban (destruction). When we sit at our beautiful tables, we must ask: What about God's table? Note on the Nine Days: The reason we abstain from meat and wine during the Nine Days is not standard mourning (as regular mourners are permitted meat and wine). Rather, it is because God's table is empty of sacrifices and libations. (Some Sephardic customs extend this through the tenth of Av because the Temple continued to burn into that day). The Pele Yoetz warns us against offering "false testimony" ( me'id edut sheker be'atzmo ). In Retzei , we say: אף על פי שאכלנו ושתינו חורבן ביתך הגדול והקדוש לא שכחנו "Even though we have eaten and drunk, we have not forgotten the destruction of Your great and holy House." If we say these words without a single thought about the Beit HaMikdash, we are speaking falsely. The Three Elements of Greatness and Holiness To ensure our words are true, let us dedicate this Shabbat to saying Retzei with deeper kavanah (intention). Notice how the phrase Gadol v'Kadosh (Great and Holy) appears three times in our liturgy, representing the three dimensions of holiness: Holy Time: HaShabbat HaGadol VeHaKadosh hazeh (This great and holy Shabbat). Holy Place: Churban beitcha ha'gadol v'ha'kadosh (The destruction of Your great and holy House). Holy People: Shmecha ha'gadol v'ha'kadosh aleinu karata (Your great and holy Name You have called upon us). On Shabbat, we honor the holiness of time and people, but we bemoan the lack of the holy place, asking God: V'hareinu benechamas Tziyon ("And show us the consolation of Zion"). Turning Rest into Consolation The Tiferet Shlomo (on Parashat Noach) points out a beautiful linguistic connection. The word for rest, מנוחה ( Menucha ), contains the exact same letters as the word for comfort, נחמה ( Nechama ). Through the Menucha of Shabbat, we bring about the Nechama —the comfort of the rebuilt Beit HaMikdash. Why do we ask for the rebuilding of the Temple specifically during Retzei ? The Tiferet Shlomo explains that because we taste a microcosm of the Divine Presence on Shabbat, we are moved to say: "Hashem, we have tasted this lower level of Your rest; please grant us the ultimate, full-fledged rest of the Geulah (Redemption) and Olam HaBa (the World to Come)." As the sages promise: "He who mourns over Jerusalem will merit to see its comfort." Let us leverage this Shabbat Chazon to shift our focus, pray Retzei with true intention, and merit to see the Beit HaMikdash rebuilt.

The Daily Dose of Bitachon: Overcoming the Barriers to Tov Hashem Lakol Welcome to our daily dose of Bitachon. Today, we are discussing the impediments and barriers that prevent us from truly understanding the theme of the month of Av: Tov Hashem Lakol —God is good to all. Barrier #2: The Illusion of "Ownership" ( Hergel ) In the introduction to Shaar Habechina (The Gate of Reflection), the Chovos Halevavos explains the second major barrier to our appreciation of God's goodness. When we enter this world, we do not yet possess our full intellect. We grow up surrounded by God's constant benefits. Because we are so accustomed to them, they become regilos (habitual), viyiduos (known), and we view them: כאילו הן עצמיות להם — "As if they are our very essence, inseparable from us." We tell ourselves: "That is just who I am. My house, my hearing, my health—these are not extra gifts; they are my essence." As we grow older and our minds mature, we fail to appreciate these gifts because we are too used to them. We don't pay attention, and we don't say thank you because we view them as a given. We feel entitled. The Prophetic Warning of Hergel (Habit) The Chovos Halevavos brings a proof text from the prophet Hoshea: "And I accustomed Efrayim..." (Hoshea 11:3) While the Radak explains this as God gently training a child to walk step-by-step, followed by the tragedy of: "And they did not know that I healed them," The Chovos Halevavos reads tirgalti through the lens of hergel (habit). God is saying: "I did good for Efrayim, but they became so accustomed and used to it that they stopped recognizing Me." This is directly related to the destruction of the Beis Hamikdash ( churban ). In Parashas Va'eschanan , the Torah warns: "When you beget children and grandchildren, and you have grown old in the land (venoshantem ba'aretz)..." (Devarim 4:25) When you get "old" and settled in the land, everything becomes routine. You lose your freshness, you stop paying attention, and you take the goodness for granted. We don't see God because we are too "used to" our stomachs, our kidneys, and our eyes. The Kuzari's Rule of Appreciation: If you want to appreciate something, imagine life without it Think of a toothache or a bad knee. When it hurts, you would give anything to fix it. But when it works perfectly, do you ever stop to think about it? The Root of Exile: A Lack of Da'as (Contemplation) Yeshayah Hanavi (Isaiah) describes the spiritual decay that led to our exile ( galus ): "Woe to those who rise early in the morning to chase strong drink, who stay up late into the night inflamed by wine. They have lyres, harps, drums, flutes, and wine at their parties..." (Yeshayah 5:11-12) What was their actual sin? The prophet continues: "But they do not look into the deed of Hashem, and the work of His hands they do not see." Because they drowned themselves in physical distractions, they failed to look at creation. The consequence? "Therefore, My nation goes into exile for lack of knowledge (da'as)." Our exile came directly from a failure to contemplate God's creation. Kriyas Shema and the Destruction of Jerusalem In the Gemara ( Shabbos 119a ), Abaye states: "Jerusalem was destroyed only because they neglected the recitation of the morning and evening Kriyat Shema." Why is Kriyat Shema (and its accompanying blessings) the pivot point? Because Kriyas Shema is the designated time to look at God through the lens of creation. Rav Wolbe ( Alei Shur , Vol. 2, p. 59): We must train ourselves to look into Hashem's creations. This is the very purpose of Birchot Hashachar (the morning blessings), Pesukei Dezimra , and the blessings of Kriyat Shema (where we introduce the declaration of God's unity by praising Him as the Creator of light and darkness). The Chofetz Chaim ( Shmiras Halashon , Vol. 2, Ch. 2): It is fitting for a person to contemplate creation at least once a day. Because it is a constant mitzvah, we should set aside a specific time for it—ideally after prayers and before eating, treating it with the same urgency as any daily obligation. Rashi ( Shabbos 119a ): Commenting on the failure to look at creation, Rashi writes that they did not set their hearts "to unify His name over His creations." This is exactly what we do during Kriyas Shema when we declare Hashem Echad (God is One). The Sefer Barak Hashachar : What is the difference between Yabitu (looking) and Ra'u (seeing)? Yabitu means to look carefully. The deeper providence ( hashgacha ) of Hashem requires deep contemplation. Ra'u means to see. God's basic handiwork is obvious to anyone who simply opens their eyes. Reclaiming Our Perspective Why is this the foundation of everything? The Chovos Halevavos teaches that the foundation of our entire relationship with God is Sha'ar Habechina (Reflection). If I do not actively see how much God gives me, how can I feel any obligation to reciprocate? Why should I serve Him? If I take my house, my life, and my health for granted as "mine," then I feel no gratitude. This is why we are commanded to love God: "With all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your possessions (me'odecha)." Why must we love Him with our possessions? Because we identify so strongly with our money and our belongings that they become "us." We take it all for granted. We think, "Of course I have a house, lights, and a car. What, would God leave me without them?" "Celebrate Life!" In Megillas Eichah, it says: "Why should a living man complain? A man of sins?" (Eichah 3:39) The Gemara ( Kiddushin 80b ) explains: What are you complaining about? Adam chai —you are alive! Even with all your sins, God is keeping you alive. Celebrate life! The Schindler's List Analogy (from Rabbi Avigdor Miller zt"l): Imagine a man standing in a concentration camp line. Oscar Schindler comes over and says, "I can get you off this line and save your life. But there are conditions: You will live in a tiny, cramped apartment. Your children will have learning challenges. Your wife will occasionally be difficult." What would that man say? He would grab the pen and sign on the dotted line instantly! He would scream: "Life! I'm alive!" This is how we must look at our lives every single day. I know a man who, due to a severe kidney illness, was unable to relieve himself normally for a long time. When he was finally healed and could say the blessing of Asher Yatzar naturally, he was so overwhelmed with joy that he got into his car and drove eighty miles an hour down the avenue, thrilled to be alive. We should feel that exact thrill every day. Summary of the Hurdles To develop a true Tov Hashem Lakol attitude, we must overcome the major hurdles: Hurdle The Core Issue The Bitachon Remedy Hurdle #1 The desire for more (What we discussed yesterday). Focus on what you have, not what is missing. Hurdle #2 Taking what we have for granted (Viewing God's gifts as our natural essence). Use the "Rabbi Miller lens" to contemplate daily miracles (our eyes, kidneys, and breathing). Part of our spiritual work during these days of Av is to repair the source of our national ruin by looking at the world with fresh eyes, recognizing Hashem's handiwork, and choosing to live with deep, conscious gratitude. Have a wonderful, appreciative day!

Welcome to Daily Bitachon The theme of the month of Av is based on a Pasuk (verse) in Ashrei : "Tov Hashem Lakol" —God is good to everybody. This is a critical concept. The Gemara ( Yoma 9b ) teaches that the primary difference between the first Beis Hamikdash (Temple) and the second Beis Hamikdash came down to Bitachon (trust in God). A lack of Bitachon was a core reason behind the destruction. The Foundation of True Reliance In Chovos HaLevavos ( Sha'ar Bitachon ), the author explains that to truly rely on someone, you must know that they possess ultimate, unceasing generosity and kindness—regardless of whether you are deserving or undeserving. No human fits this description. That quality belongs solely to Hakadosh Baruch Hu , God's generosity is all-inclusive, and His kindness surrounds all. The proof? "Tov Hashem Lakol." Furthermore, in Sha'ar HaBechina , the Chovos HaLevavos emphasizes that God's kindness includes everybody . "Everyone" doesn't mean "most"—it means every single creation. You can take that Pasuk to the bank. Yet, rabim k'ivrim me-hakirun —most people are blind to this reality. Even if they do realize it, mavin godel tovatan , they fail to grasp how immense it is. They don't truly delve into it ( ve'einam maskilim ) for three main reasons. Barrier #1: The Cycle of Desires and Arrogance What is the first major barrier that stops us from appreciating these three words, "God is good to all"? We are entirely consumed by worldly pleasures, personal desires, and a hyper-focus on what we lack. Instead of seeing what we do have, we are totally absorbed in the massive hope of fulfilling what we don't have. The Endless Chase: Whatever a person reaches, they immediately want the next level. The wonderful gifts they already possess become small and limited in their eyes. The Comparison Trap: A person begins to think that anything someone else possesses was somehow taken away from them. The underlying spiritual cause of this is sobering. Tehillim 10:4 states: "Rasha (the wicked one), kegovah apo (because of his arrogance), bal yidrosh (he is not searching for God)... God is not on his mind." Our innate arrogance makes us feel entitled to everything. When we feel entitled to everything, anything we lack feels like a deprivation. We look at others and think, "I was supposed to have that." Meanwhile, the staggering miracles we already possess are brushed aside: A beating heart? Meh. Working knees? Okay. Fully functioning kidneys? So does everybody else. On the black market, the organs inside your body right now would cost a fortune—yet we take them for granted. Rabbi Addis once noted that when you go grocery shopping on an empty stomach, you buy everything in sight because you feel empty inside. You think you need a lot to be happy. But once you eat just a little bit, you are satiated. The problem is we don't even focus on the "little bit" we already have. We adopt the attitude of Esav, who demanded, "Pour it down my throat." We search for treasures on the other side of the world when they are sitting right in our own homes. Two Lessons on Perspective 1. The Treasure Under the Sink There is a famous story about a poor man living in Yerushalayim (Jerusalem) who dreams of a pot of gold buried under a specific bridge in Vienna. He scrapes together his last coins and travels all the way to Vienna. As he paces back and forth by the bridge, a local guard stops him and asks what he's doing. The man confesses his dream. The guard laughs and says, "You Jews and your silly dreams! I had a dream last night that there was a pot of gold buried under the kitchen sink at Alfandari 18 in Yerushalayim. Do you think I'm going to travel all that way?" The man freezes. Alfandari 18 was his own address. He immediately travels back home, digs under his sink, and finds the treasure. The Message: People think they have to go to Vienna to find fulfillment, but the pot of gold is already inside their own home. 2. Rabbi Akiva and the Gift of Straw The Gemara ( Masechet Nedarim 50 ) tells of Rabbi Akiva and his wife, the daughter of Kalba Savua. Her father disowned her and cut off her inheritance for marrying Akiva. They were so poor they slept on a floor covered in straw. Every morning, Rabbi Akiva would gently pick the straw out of her hair and say with hope, "One day, I am going to give you a golden tiara." One day, there is a knock on the door. It is Eliyahu HaNavi (Elijah the Prophet) disguised as a regular beggar. He says, "Do you have any spare straw? My wife just gave birth, and I have absolutely nothing to put her on." They gladly gave him some of their straw. Afterward, Rabbi Akiva turned to his wife and said, "Look at that—that person doesn't even have straw, and we do." The Insight: Eliyahu HaNavi came down from heaven. Why didn't he just give them a gold coin instead of taking their straw? Because Eliyahu HaNavi was giving them something far more valuable than gold: a lesson in attitude. If he had given them gold, they simply would have wanted more gold. By showing them someone who lacked even the bare minimum, he taught them to appreciate the wealth they already had.

Welcome to the Daily Dose of Bitachon. As we prepare for the month of Av— Erev Rosh Chodesh Av ( ערב ראש חודש אב )—we carry with us the concept we introduced back at the beginning of Tammuz: that each of the twelve months of the year corresponds to a unique spiritual force. Today, we will explore this deeply through the lens of the Sefer Yetzirah , an ancient Kabbalistic text attributed by many to Avraham Avinu, which outlines how the twenty-two letters of the Hebrew alphabet serve as the spiritual building blocks of reality. The division of these twenty-two letters is beautifully elegant. First, the Sefer Yetzirah points to the three "Mother" letters ( Imahot ): Aleph ( א ), Mem ( מ ), and Shin ( ש ). These represent the foundational elements of physical matter itself. Aleph stands for Avir (air), Mem stands for Mayim (water), and because the Aleph is already claimed, Shin stands for Esh (fire). Next are the seven "double" letters, known by the acronym Beged Kaporet ( בגד כפרת ): Bet, Gimmel, Dalet, Chaf, Peh, Reish, and Tav. In the Zohar, these are identified as the letters that can receive a dagesh (the internal emphasis dot). While our grammatical tradition generally does not place a dagesh in the letter Reish, Kabbalistically it is included. These seven double letters correspond to dimensions of time and space, such as the seven days of the week, the seven classical planets, and the seven spiritual gateways of the soul. Subtracting these ten letters—the three Mothers of matter and the seven Doubles of time—leaves us with the twelve "Simple" letters. These twelve remaining letters correspond directly to the twelve months of the year, creating a cosmic map where each month is animated by its own letter. Our Rabbis reveal an incredible connection here: these twelve simple letters correspond sequentially to the verses of Ashrei (Psalm 145), aligning the spiritual theme of each month with the corresponding verse. We begin with the letter Heh ( ה ), which corresponds to Nissan . The verse for Heh is Hadar kevod hodacha... ("the glory of your honor, and the words of your wonders, I will speak about"). As Rabbeinu Bachya notes in the name of Rabbeinu Chananel, this refers directly to the wonders of Yetziat Mitzrayim (the Exodus), the central theme of Nissan. Following this is the letter Vav ( ו ) for Iyar . The Vav represents Vav Hachibur —the connecting "and"—which serves as the bridge linking the physical redemption of Nissan to the spiritual giving of the Torah in Sivan. Sivan is represented by the letter Zayin ( ז ), corresponding to the verse Zecher rav tuvcha yabiu... ("they shall utter the memory of Your great goodness"). In Jewish tradition, "good" ( Tov ) refers directly to the Torah, as we say, "I have given you a good acquisition, do not forsake My Torah." Then we reach the chidush , the deep spiritual renewal of our current season. The letter Chet ( ח ) belongs to Tammuz , which matches the verse Chanun verachum Hashem... ("Gracious and merciful is Hashem, slow to anger and great in kindness"). This is immediately followed by the letter Tet ( ט ) for Av , matching the verse Tov Hashem lakol... ("Hashem is good to all, and His mercy is upon all His works"). At first glance, one would think that Tov Hashem lakol —expressing God's absolute goodness—is the very last verse you would associate with the painful month of Av. Yet, this is a profound mystery. The letter Tet has a numerical value of nine, rooting the solemn Nine Days of mourning right here in its essence. This teaches us that everything happening in Galut (exile) is ultimately for our own good, whether we can perceive it or not. This is why Midrash Eicha (Lamentations) begins with a "good word" or a positive note; because at the core of Av's darkness lies the ultimate truth of Tov Hashem lakol . There is an incredible warning and opportunity hidden in this sequence. If you take the letter of Tammuz, Chet ( ח ), and place it next to the letter of Av, Tet ( ט ), they spell the word Chet ( חטא - sin) . These two months are historically prone to spiritual stumbling and tragedy. However, the spiritual work of this time is to take that very vulnerability and turn it around into a source of holiness. Moving past the summer, the letter Yud ( י ) corresponds to Elul . Our Sages teach that the letter Yud symbolizes pure thought. While this world ( Olam Hazeh ) was created with the letter Heh, the World to Come ( Olam Haba ) was created with a Yud. Elul is the month of deep contemplation, planning, and mental preparation for the year to come. Tishrei is represented by the letter Lamed ( ל ), matching the verse Lehodia livnei ha'adam... ("To make known to the sons of man His mighty acts, and the glory of the majesty of His kingdom"). This theme of Malchut (Kingship) is the very spiritual essence of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Next is Cheshvan , represented by the letter Nun ( נ ). Remarkably, there is no verse starting with the letter Nun in Ashrei. King David omitted the Nun from the psalm because Nun represents Nofel (falling), and he did not want to evoke the painful verse from Amos, "Fallen ( Nafla ), she shall not rise again, the virgin of Israel." This directly mirrors Cheshvan, a month with no holidays where we experience a spiritual "fall" or quiet period after the heights of Tishrei. But we are not left in the fall. Teves is represented by the letter Samech ( ס ), matching the verse Somech Hashem lechol hanoflim... ("Hashem supports all who fall"). The Samech of Teves immediately follows and lifts up the fallen Nun of Cheshvan. The letter Ayin ( ע ) belongs to Kislev , the month of Chanukah, representing holy sight and the miracles we hold on display ( See Imrei Noam on Chanuka). Shevat is represented by the letter Tzadi ( צ ), corresponding to Tzaddik Hashem bechol drachav... ("Righteous is Hashem in all His ways"). Because Shevat is the time of Tu B'Shevat when we eat of the new fruits of the trees, it embodies the verse, "The righteous ( Tzaddik ) eats to satisfy his soul." Finally, the letter Kuf ( ק ) corresponds to Adar , aligning with the verse Karov Hashem lechol kor'av... ("Hashem is close to all who call upon Him in truth"). This is the ultimate message of Purim and Megillat Esther—that even when God seems completely hidden, He is intimately close to those who call out to Him with sincerity. This brings us back to our focus today. As we enter the month of Av, our main goal is to attune ourselves to this spiritual rhythm. By recognizing the hidden goodness ( Tov ) buried within the heavy days ahead, we can find the strength to transform these moments of vulnerability into a deep, lasting closeness to Hashem. We will continue to build on this, B'ezrat Hashem . Have a beautiful and meaningful day!

Daily Bitachon: Framing Eicha and the Secrets of Ashrei As we get closer to Tisha B'Av, we want to share some insights on Megillat Eicha . The Concept of a Petichta (The Opening) Midrash Eicha starts with a section called Petichta deHakimei , which means "introductory teachings of the wise men." We find a similar concept in the Talmud ( Megillah 10b ), where a long list of Chachamim (scholars) introduce the Megillah using this exact term. What is the deeper meaning of an "opening"? The Or Gedalyahu (Purim, p. 86) explains that a Petichta acts like a mafteach (a key) . It is designed to unlock the inner secrets of the text so we don't lose the forest for the trees. It anchors us to the underlying message of the book. Beginning and Ending with Goodness In Sefer Kad HaKemach (Gezel, Unit 2), Rabbeinu Bechaye discusses the famous rabbinic dictum: לעולם יתחיל אדם בדבר טוב ויסיים בדבר טוב "A person should always begin and end with something good." He explains that "good" ( tov ) refers directly to God. We can see this as we say every day in the Amidah and Ashrei: " הטוב שמך ולך נאה להודות " (The Good is Your Name, and to You it is fitting to give thanks). " טוב ה׳ לכל " ( Tov Hashem lakol – God is good to all). A name represents the essence of a thing, meaning God's absolute essence is goodness. This is a foundational theme of the Nine Days—a topic we will delve into further. Rabbeinu Bechaye and the Nefesh HaChaim explain that the ultimate expression of God's name in this world is the Torah. When the verse says, " כי שם ה׳ אקרא " ("When I call out the name of Hashem"), it refers to the Torah, which is is the names of G-d and I must gibe greatness to his name this is the source for birkat hatorah, when we learn Torah, mention his name we give Him greatness by blessing him.. In fact, the Ramban writes in his introduction to Bereishit that the entire Torah is comprised of interwoven names of God. Therefore, every Petichta begins with a Torah verse because it contains fundamental holiness—the dvar tov (good thing) that reframes our perspective before we experience the grief of Eicha. Reframing Exile: The Daughter of Waves In the Midrash , Rabbi Abba bar Kahana quotes a verse from Yeshayahu: " צהלי קולך בת גלים " ("Raise your voice, daughter of the waves"). The Midrash explains that "daughter of the waves" (or "daughter of exiles") refers to the Jewish nation. We are the children of exiles: Avraham experienced exile and famine ( "Vayehi ra'av ba'aretz" ). Yitzchak experienced exile and famine, moving to Avimelech in Gerar. Yaakov fled his home to Padan Aram. The message here is not to despair . The pain of exile is not a historic coincidence; it was built into the blueprint of creation. Rav Wolbe noted that the very opening lines of the Torah— " והארץ היתה תהו ובהו וחשך על פני תהום " —allude to the four exiles: Tohu (Chaos): Babylonia (Bavel) Vohu (Void): Persia and Media (Paras u'Madai) Choshech (Darkness): Greece (Yavan) Tehom (The Depths): Rome/Edom (our current, seemingly endless exile) Immediately following this, the Torah states, "And the spirit of God hovered over the water," which refers to the spirit of Mashiach. Why Must We Suffer? If exile is built into creation, why is it necessary? The Maharal ( Netzach Yisrael , Ch. 15) explains that this world is not our true home . As the Mishnah in Pirkei Avot teaches, this world is merely an anteroom ( prozdor ) to the World to Come. The fact that we are constantly uprooted and persecuted is a reminder that we don't inherently belong in this physical domain; we belong in a higher, spiritual realm. Our painful exile is the difficult path toward ultimate greatness. We wear the title Bat Golim (Daughter of Exiles) with pride. It is a symbol of our cosmic displacement and a reminder that our true place is in the World to Come. We must not lose faith in the face of antisemitism or tragedy. It is painful, but it is a process built for our ultimate growth. The Father's Perspective: A Mashal from the Chasam Sofer In Berachot 3a , Rabbi Yose enters a ruin in Jerusalem to pray, and Eliyahu HaNavi waits for him outside. When Rabbi Yose finishes, Eliyahu asks him what he heard inside the ruin. Rabbi Yose responds that he heard a heavenly echo ( Bat Kol ) groaning like a dove, saying: "Woe to the children, that because of their sins I destroyed My house, burned My sanctuary, and exiled them among the nations." Eliyahu informs him that this occurs three times every single day. Furthermore, whenever the Jewish people enter a synagogue and declare " אמן יהא שמיה רבא " (Amen, may His great name be blessed), God shakes His head and says: "Fortunate is the King who is praised in His house! What is there for a Father who exiled His children? And woe to the children who were exiled from their Father's table." The Chasam Sofer makes a brilliant textual analysis here. Notice the phrasing: "Woe to the children" is stated, but when referring to God, it uses the milder phrase "What is there for a Father..." rather than "Woe to the Father." Why does God not groan for Himself in the same way? The Mashal (Parable) Imagine a man whose wife is in labor with their firstborn son. He is thrilled, anticipating the Brit Milah and the Pidyon Haben. Right now, his wife is screaming in agonizing pain. The husband feels her pain acutely, but he isn't despairing. Why? Because he can see the bigger picture. He visualizes the joy of the upcoming celebrations and the beautiful life ahead. We are currently experiencing Chevlei Mashiach —the birth pangs of the Messianic era. Like childbirth, the pain intensifies right before the ultimate joy. The Chasam Sofer explains that God is like that expectant father. He feels our pain, but He does not groan for Himself because He sees the staggering spiritual heights we are climbing. He sees the light we generate by pushing against the tide of exile. Stay tuned tomorrow as we discuss why the response of "Amen Yehei Shmei Raba" is so deeply moving to the Almighty.

The Root Cause of the Churban: Disgracing Torah Scholars To truly understand the events of the Churban Beis HaMikdash (destruction of the Temple), we must always look back to its root causes so we can fix them. The Gemara ( Maseches Shabbos 119b ) teaches: אמר רב יהודה לא חרבה ירושלים אלא בשביל שביזו בה תלמידי חכמים Rav Yehuda said: Jerusalem was only destroyed because they disgraced Torah scholars. Rav Yehuda brings a prooftext from Divrei HaYamim Bais (36:16) : : (טז) וַיִּהְיוּ מַלְעִיבִים בְּמַלְאֲכֵי הָאֱלֹקים וּבוֹזִים דְּבָרָיו וּמִתַּעְתְּעִים בִּנְבִאָיו עַד עֲלוֹת חֲמַת ה' בְּעַמּוֹ עַד לְאֵין מַרְפֵּא: "They constantly insulted the messengers of God and scorned His words and scoffed at His prophets until the wrath of Hashem rose up against His people beyond remedy." This refers specifically to how King Yehoyakim refused to humble himself before the prophet Yirmeyah (Jeremiah) and disgraced him instead. The Metzudos notes that the word מִתַּעְתְּעִים metateim (scoffed/stray) comes from the root to'eh (to stray). The people claimed that the prophets were the ones who had gone astray, saying: "We know what we're doing; they are the ones who are off." Halachic Severity and the Removal of Free Will The Rambam ( Hilchos Talmud Torah 6:11 ) codifies this not as mere inspiration ( mussar ), but as definitive halacha : It is a monumental sin to disgrace or hate talmidei chachamim (Torah scholars). He cites the Gemara in Shabbos that Jerusalem was destroyed for this reason. He links this to the verse in the Torah: "Im Bechukosai Timasu" ( "If you disgrace My statutes" ), explaining that this means Melamdei Chukasai Timasu —despising those who teach Torah. The Rambam warns: וכל המבזה את החכמים אין לו חלק לעולם הבא Whoever disgraces Torah scholars has no portion in the World to Come, and is included among those of whom it is said, "They disgraced the word of God." Furthermore, in Hilchos Teshuva (6:3) , the Rambam addresses the phrase ein marpei ("beyond remedy"). We know from the story of Pharaoh that a person can commit sins so severe that God removes their free will as a punishment. The Rambam explains that those who disgrace talmidei chachamim face this exact reality: God prevents them from having the ability to do teshuva (repentance). The Parable of the Traveling Doctor Why is this sin considered so severe that it leaves a person "beyond remedy"? The rabbis offer a powerful mashal (parable): A traveling doctor arrived in a town with a caravan full of specialized medical tools. A local man desperately wanted to heal his sick son but lacked the money to pay. Desperate, the man ambushed the doctor's caravan on the side of the road and stole his baggage. Sorting through the stolen goods, the man found a bag full of complex medical instruments. Seeing no material value in them, he threw them away. Later, the man brought his sick son to the doctor and begged, "Please, save my son!" The doctor replied, "I want to help you, but someone just stole all of my medical utensils. Without them, I cannot heal him." The Nimshal (The Lesson) The talmidei chachamim are the spiritual doctors of our generation. When people disgrace them, the public stops listening to them. By destroying the scholars' credibility, the people effectively "throw away the doctor's tools." When someone's soul becomes spiritually ill, the doctor no longer has the tools to heal them. The Rambam ( Hilchos Deos 2:1 ) expands on this spiritual illness. Just as a physically sick person might taste something bitter and think it is sweet, spiritually sick people desire paths that are harmful and hate the path of righteousness. As the prophet Yeshayahu warns: "Woe to those who say of good it is bad, and bad it is good... who make sweetness into bitterness." What is the cure? ילכו אצל חכמים שהן רופאי הנפשות They must go to the sages, who are the healers of the soul, and they will heal their illness by teaching them the correct path. Torah as the Only Antidote In Mesillat Yesharim (Chapter 5) , Ramchal references the famous Gemara in Kiddushin 30b : "I created the Evil Inclination (Yetzer Hara), and I created the Torah as its antidote." If God explicitly states that the Torah is the only antidote to this spiritual poison, it is impossible to overcome the yetzer hara by any other means. Ramchal compares this to a patient who ignores a specialist's prescription to try their own remedies; the patient will ultimately perish. God knows the exact molecular makeup of the poison He created, and He holds the only antidote. This aligns with the famous Midrash: "Would that they had deserted Me, but kept My Torah! For the light within it would have returned them to the proper path." The Slippery Slope of Lashon Hara How does a person decline to the point of treating scholars this way? The Rambam ( Hilchos Tum'at Tzara'at 16:10 ) outlines the psychological progression of lashon hara (evil speech): It begins with indulging in empty, frivolous nonsense ( sichah batelah ). This leads to speaking disparagingly of the righteous ( tzaddikim ). Once comfortable mocking the righteous, they begin speaking against the prophets. Ultimately, it leads to speaking against God Himself. Rabbeinu Yonah ( Sha'arei Teshuva, Sha'ar 2:11 ) quotes Mishlei (17:10-11) regarding one who refuses to humble himself before those who rebuke him. The verse states that an cruel angel ( malach achzari ) will be sent against him. The word malach simply means messenger. Rabbeinu Yonah explains that a talmid chacham is a messenger of God sent to give gentle mussar (correction). Middah k'neged middah (measure for measure), God says: "I sent you a gentle messenger to guide you, and you ignored him. Therefore, I will send you a harsh messenger (tragedy or judgment) that you will be unable to ignore." Conclusion: A Reminder for the Summer The Pele Yoetz asks why we rarely hear public sermons about the severity of disgracing scholars. He explains that rabbis often avoid the topic because they worry people will cynically think, "The rabbi just wants honor for himself, so he's delivering a speech about it." But the truth must be spoken. This issue is highly relevant, especially during the summer months when people sit around relaxing. Discussing rabbis—what they said, what they did—is often treated as light entertainment. It isn't just innocent fun; it is the yetzer hara targeting our spiritual defenses. Do rabbis make mistakes? Of course they do; everyone makes mistakes. But if you systematically disgrace a rabbi, what will happen when he isn't making a mistake, and you desperately need his guidance? Enjoy the summer, but be smart. Protect the spiritual doctors who hold the tools to heal us.

From Jealousy to Trust: Healing the Inner Self Through Bitachon I. The Internal Pulse: Sinat Chinam and the Tenth Commandment Yesterday, we discussed a profound shift in the spiritual anatomy of generations: while the generations of old may have stumbled in external actions while remaining internally pure, later generations present the inverse challenge—the external actions may appear intact, but the interior life is compromised. The Vilna Gaon illuminates this internal illness by connecting sinat chinam (baseless hatred) directly to a profound lack of bitachon (trust in Hashem). In his view, baseless hatred, jealousy, and animosity are not isolated character flaws; they are the direct symptoms of a fractured relationship with the Divine. To evaluate one's spiritual standing, a person must take their spiritual "pulse"—what we can call the "Anochi Pulse." How vibrant is your connection to "Anochi Hashem Elokecha" (I am the Lord your God)? The Vilna Gaon reveals that the ultimate diagnostic tool for the first commandment is actually the tenth: "Lo Tachmod" (Do not covet). If a person is truly anchored in the reality of Anochi , they cannot covet what belongs to another. The Vilna Gaon asserts that all sin stems from the trait of coveting, demonstrating how the final commandment encapsulates all ten. The Geography of the Soul: From Rosh Hashanah to Yom Kippur Parenthetically, this conceptual framework aligns perfectly with the Ten Days of Repentance ( Aseret Yemei Teshuva ), which correspond to the Ten Commandments: The First Day (Rosh Hashanah) corresponds to Anochi Hashem Elokecha —establishing Hashem's ultimate sovereignty. The Tenth Day (Yom Kippur) corresponds to Lo Tachmod —because coveting what belongs to another is the ultimate antithesis of the kapparah (atonement) of Yom Kippur, which demands absolute spiritual purity and self-containment. The Farmer and the Princess: The Ibn Ezra's Perspective The Ibn Ezra ( Shemot 20:14) addresses a famous psychological dilemma: How can the Torah command a person not to desire something beautiful or valuable that belongs to someone else? If I see it and I like it, how can I simply turn off my desire? He offers a powerful mashal (parable): A rational, simple farmer who sees a royal princess feels no practical desire to marry her. Why? Because he knows it is an absolute impossibility. To genuinely desire her would be as absurd as wishing he could grow wings and fly. The Ibn Ezra explains that a thinking person must apply this exact logic to reality: the spouse, the wealth, or the success that another person possesses is determined solely by Hashem. It is not a function of human wisdom or strategy. Therefore, another person's divinely decreed portion is even more removed from you than the princess is from the farmer. When one realizes that what they do not have is simply not intended for them by God, all sinat chinam dissolves, replaced by a profound reliance on the Creator. II. The Practical Antidote: Recording Hashgacha Pratis Recognizing Hashem's direct, divine intervention ( hashgacha pratis ) requires deliberate cultivation. We find a consistent, powerful historical directive emphasizing the practical tracking of these moments: The Gedolim's Directive (1984): On the 24th of Av, 5744 ( תשמ"ד ), Rav Moshe Feinstein and Rav Yaakov Kamenetzky signed a historic public letter addressed to the Jewish people worldwide. They emphasized the vital importance of instilling a visceral belief in Divine Providence—particularly within children. Their practical advice? Carry a small notebook or pamphlet and write down daily stories of hashgacha pratis . This simple discipline systematically dismantles the illusion of "coincidence," refutes the god of nature, and silences the ego's claim of "my power and the might of my hand." By fortifying this foundational trait, one strengthens the baseline for all 613 mitzvot, fulfilling the verse: "Tzaddik be'emunato yichyeh" (The righteous shall live by his faith). The Chasam Sofer's Landmark: In his Drasha HaShabbat Shuva , the Chasam Sofer outlines a sacred obligation for those entering their later years (reaching major landmarks like 60, 70, or 80). He advises pulling one's children and grandchildren around the table to recount the personal miracles experienced throughout a lifetime, passing down a legacy of lived emunah. Moshe Rabbeinu's Travel Diary: The Ohr HaChaim ( Bamidbar 32:2) provides a stunning insight into Parshat Masei , which is always read during this summer season. He notes that the meticulous recording of the journeys began as Moshe Rabbeinu's personal diary ( שתחיל משה לכתוב בפנקסו ). Moshe carried a pamphlet, documenting the miracles of each journey day by day. At the end of forty years, Hashem commanded that this personal journal be integrated eternally into the Torah. We are, in essence, reading Moshe's personal notebook of gratitude. III. Spark vs. Straw: Navigating the End of Days When confronting overwhelming external challenges, the Torah offers a profound framework for perspective. In Bereishit (37:1), Rashi describes Yaakov Avinu looking out at the vast, intimidating expansion of Esav's chieftains and wondering, How can I possibly manage or overcome all of this? Rashi provides the mashal of a blacksmith watching a massive caravan of camels arrive in the marketplace, completely overloaded with giant bundles of flax. The blacksmith wonders, Where will all this flax fit? A wise onlooker responds: "One single spark from your bellows can burn the entirety of it down." So too, Yaakov is the blacksmith. The Prophet Ovadiah ( Ovadyah 1:18) declares: "And the house of Yaakov shall be a fire, and the house of Yosef a flame, and the house of Esav for straw..." ( והיה בית יעקב אש ובית יוסף להבה ובית עשו לקש ) Rav Avraham Shor ( Shurot ) deepens this connection beautifully: קש (Straw): Represents Kina ק נאה (jealousy) and Sina ש נאה (hatred)—the exact interior traits defining Esav and the root of our current exile. אש (Fire): Represents א בינו ש בשמים ( Avinu Shebashamayim —Our Father in Heaven). Our entire job in the face of consuming negativity is to remember that we possess the fire of Avinu Shebashamayim . The Prophecy of Sotah The contemporary relevance of this message is explicitly mapped out at the conclusion of Tractate Sotah (9:15), describing the landscape of the generation preceding the arrival of Mashiach. The Mishna warns of a dramatic societal breakdown: truth will be hidden, audacity ( chutzpah ) will reach new heights, and those who fear sin or dedicate themselves to Torah scholarship will be utterly despised. Yet, after detailing each devastating step of this decline, the Mishna concludes with the exact same repeating refrain, which serves as our ultimate directive: "Upon whom can we rely? Only upon our Father in Heaven." ( על מי יש לנו להישען? על אבינו שבשמים ) Conclusion: The Healing of Av As everything around us appears to intensify, the spiritual task becomes singularly focused. The very name of the month we find ourselves in— אב (Av) —serves as an acronym for א מונה ו ב טחון ( Emunah and Bitachon ). The ultimate rectification for the historic and internal wounds of this season is to pivot away from the exhausting, jealous pursuit of what is not ours, and to lean entirely into the absolute reality of Avinu Shebashamayim . By taking our Lo Tachmod pulse and actively chronicling Hashem's daily intervention in our lives, we transform internal illness into absolute, unshakeable spiritual health.

The Four Kingdoms and the Root of the Churban We are currently in the Three Weeks, reflecting on the Churban Beit HaMikdash (the destruction of the Holy Temple). To truly understand our work during this period, we must ask: What was the root cause of the Churban ? How did it happen? Most of us are familiar with the Four Galiyot (Exiles): Bavel (Babylonia) Madai (Medes/Persians) Yavan (Greece) Edom (The current, final exile) The Imagery of the Non-Kosher Animals In Midrash Rabbah (Vayikra 13:5), the Sages explain that the four animals possessing only one kosher sign correspond directly to these four empires: The Camel (Gamal): Represents Bavel . It chews its cud (internal sign) but does not have split hooves. The Rabbit (Arnevet): Represents Yavan . It is called gera because it "drags" ( garar ) another kingdom after it. The Badger (Shafan): Represents Madai . It similarly drags another kingdom. The Pig (Chazir): Represents Edom . והוא גרה לא יגר – "But he does not chew his cud." (Leviticus 11:7) The pig only has the external sign (split hooves) but lacks the internal sign. It is called Chazir because in the end, it will return ( lehachzir ) the kingdom to its rightful place by bringing Mashiach, as it says: "And saviors shall ascend Mount Zion to judge the mount of Esau, and the kingdom shall be Hashem's" (Ovadia 1:21). External vs. Internal Sins Why are the first three animals listed in one verse, while Edom is placed in a verse by itself? The Midrash explains: שקולה כנגד שלשתן — Edom weighs as much as the other three combined. This weight directly parallels the Three Cardinal Sins vs. the singular sin of the final exile: Empire Corresponding Cardinal Sin Historical Context / Manifestation Bavel Avodah Zarah (Idolatry) Bowing down to Nebuchadnezzar's statue. Yavan Giluy Arayot (Adultery/Immorality) The decree that a bride must first visit the Greek governor. Paras/Madai Shefichut Damim (Murder) Haman's decree lehashmid laharog (to destroy and kill). Edom Sinat Chinam (Baseless Hatred) Weighs against all three; characterizes our current exile. The Modern Geopolitical Parallel Historically and culturally, these traits persist: Bavel is rooted in the Middle East/Arab world, where the camel remains a cultural symbol. Edom is rooted in Western culture, heavily associated with the pig (e.g., dietary staples like bacon and ham). Interestingly, the pig represents the ultimate spiritual barrier in Eastern theology as well, where rumors even exist of military deterrents using pigskin. The Core Difference: The First Temple fell to the Babylonians (the camels), while the Second Temple fell to Rome/Western Culture (the pigs). The Verdict of the Gemara: Open vs. Hidden The Gemara ( Masechet Yoma ) records a profound insight from Rabbi Yochanan and Rabbi Elazar: The Early Generations (First Temple): Nitgala avonam, nitgala kitzam — Their sins were out in the open (idolatry, murder, immorality), so the end of their exile was openly revealed (70 years). The Later Generations (Second Temple): Lo nitgala avonam, lo nitgala kitzam — Their sins were hidden, so the end of their exile remains hidden. This is the distinction between Chitzoniyut (externals) and Pnimiyut (internals). A Medical Analogy: A person can have severe psoriasis. It looks terrible and is externally unappealing, but it isn't life-threatening. Another person can look perfectly healthy, doing push-ups and glowing on the outside, but suffers from a hidden, internal ailment that is fatal. The Vilna Gaon on the Power of Heart The Vilna Gaon (Gra) explains that the First Temple generation committed severe, open sins, תלו בטחונם בהשם — but they still relied on God. Their actions were terrible, but their hearts remained fundamentally connected through faith. They possessed Bitachon (trust in God). Conversely, the Second Temple generation looked structurally and behaviorally righteous on the outside—they learned Torah and performed deeds of kindness—but רחמנא ליבא בעי ( Hashem wants the heart ), and their hearts were corrupt. Bitachon: The Core of the Torah What do the kosher signs actually teach us? The Vilna Gaon notes: Chewing the Cud ( Ma'aleh Gera ): Represents Histapkut (contentment). It is the trait of being happy with what one has, constantly chewing and appreciating the same spark of life. Split Hooves: Represents a non-predatory nature. Kosher animals do not have claws to attack or tear others apart. Therefore, the ultimate sign of Kashrut is a sign of Emunah (faith). The Vilna Gaon writes in his commentary on Mishlei (22:19): עיקר נתינת התורה לישראל, כדי שישימו בטחונם בהשם "The primary reason the Torah was given to Israel was so that they would place their trust in Hashem." Bitachon is the Klal —the all-inclusive principle behind every single commandment. We eat kosher to remember God provides our food. We check for shatnez to remember God provides our clothing. The Ra'avad (quoted by Rav Yerucham Levovitz) notes that marital laws ( Taharat HaMishpacha ) remind a person that God granted them their spouse. The entire theme of the Torah is realizing that everything comes from God, and we must rely entirely on Him. The Ultimate Punchline Why was the Second Temple destroyed if the people were learning Torah and doing acts of kindness? It was destroyed because of Sinat Chinam (baseless hatred) and Mechoser Bitachon (a lack of trust in God). How are the two connected? כל השנאה והקנאה ממנו — All hatred and jealousy stem directly from a lack of Bitachon. If you truly realize that Hashem is in total control of the universe, and that no one can touch what is designated for you, you cannot harbor jealousy. If you lack Bitachon , you view others as obstacles to your success, which breeds hatred. The work of the Three Weeks is to shift from the external mask of righteousness to the internal reality of perfect trust in God, thereby curing the baseless hatred that keeps us in exile.