Podcasts about parasha

O que aprendemos de um carro que tem dois volantes e não é uma autoescola? Porque temos que rezar certas rezas com um Minian ou seja 10 pessoas? De onde vem isso, você sabe? Ouça

Parashat Shelah is famous for the story of Het Ha'meragelim – the sin of the spies. Moshe sent twelve men – one representative from each tribe – to survey the Land of Israel and report back to the people, and when the spies returned, they persuaded Beneh Yisrael that they could not conquer the land, for which thy were severely punished. The Torah makes a point of mentioning that before Moshe sent the spies, he renamed one of them – his faithful disciple, Hoshea – changing his name from "Hoshea" to "Yehoshua" ( 13:16). Rashi explains that Moshe gave Yehoshua this new name as a prayer that he would be protected from the sinister plot of the other spies. The name "Yehoshua" can be read as a combination of the words "Y-ah Yoshi'acha" – "G-d shall save you." This was Moshe's prayer that Yehoshua would not be influenced by his peers who would decide to speak negatively about the Land of Israel and sow despair among the nation. We must ask, why did Moshe pray on behalf of only Yehoshua? If he anticipated the likelihood that the spies would betray their mission, and seek to dissuade the people from entering into the land, then why didn't he pray that they should all be protected from this grave mistake? The Lubavitcher Rebbe (Rav Menachem Mendel Schneerson, 1902-1994) answered this question by noting Targum Yonatan Ben Uziel's translation of this verse. Targum Yonatan writes that Moshe changed Yehoshua's name because he noticed "Invatanuteh" – Yehoshua's unique humility. Somehow, Yehoshua's especially humble character necessitated this prayer, that he should be protected from sin as he embarked on this mission. The Rebbe explained that normally, one cannot pray for another's Yir'at Shamayim (fear of Heaven), that the person should do the right thing and avoid wrongdoing. The Sages famously taught us, "Ha'kol Bi'ydeh Shamayim Hutz Mi'yir'at Shamayim" – "Everything is in the hand of Heaven, except the fear of Heaven." We can and should ask Hashem for that which lies beyond our control. Religious observance, however, is our responsibility. We cannot ask Hashem to make somebody religiously committed – because he needs to motivate himself to be committed. But if so, then Moshe's prayer for his disciple is very difficult to understand. How could Moshe pray that Yehoshua do the right thing, if one cannot pray for somebody else to avoid sin? The Rebbe answered that we can pray for somebody's spiritual success if that person is already investing effort to achieve spiritual success. For example, we cannot pray to Hashem to help somebody wake up in time for Shaharit if he goes to sleep late and doesn't bother to set an alarm clock. If, however, a person who has this weakness – often failing to get up on time – makes an effort to improve, such as by going to sleep at a reasonable hour and setting an alarm clock, then it is certainly appropriate to pray that his efforts should succeed. And this is true of all areas of religious life – once a person is making a genuine effort to succeed, then he – and others – can pray that those efforts should bring the desired results. With this in mind, we can return to Yehoshua and the spies. The Rebbe explains that Moshe sent the spies on a fact-finding mission. Their job was to objectively report the information, to tell what they saw, without giving any interpretation or offering an opinion based on that information. It was their job to determine the facts – and it was Moshe's job, and only Moshe's job, to reach decisions based on those facts. The spies' sin was arrogantly usurping Moshe's role. After they reported the facts, they gave their assessment about the prospects of capturing Eretz Yisrael – an assessment which wasn't theirs to make. They decided that their opinion was more important and more authoritative than that of Moshe Rabbenu – and this was their sin. Before Moshe sent the spies, he was well aware of this danger. He knew of the natural tendency that people have to form opinions about things which are for the experts to decide, to assume they know better, to feel overly confident in their perspectives, their ideas and their impressions. But he could pray only for Yehoshua – because he saw that Yehoshua worked on his quality of humility. Upon seeing how Yehoshua made a conscious effort to remain humble, Moshe prayed that these efforts should succeed, that Yehoshua would remain humble and not overstep his bounds. Moshe could not pray for the other spies, because he did not see them working on their Midda (quality) of humility. He therefore prayed only for Yehoshua, his student who worked to live humbly, asking that these efforts should protect him from the arrogant tendency to give opinions that shouldn't be given.

The spies were sent to Eretz Yisrael to find out about the land and then report their findings to the people. And this is exactly what they did. They told the people about the extraordinary quality of the land's produce, how it is a land "flowing with milk and honey." And they also told the people about the nations who lived in the land – about their very large, well-trained militaries, and about the enormous, fortified walls protecting their cities. So why were the spies punished? If they saw that the nations in Eretz Yisrael were too powerful, that they could not be defeated, then why were they wrong for sharing this information? Wasn't this exactly their job? A number of commentators explain that the very purpose of this scouting mission was for the meragelim (spies) to see that it was humanly impossible to conquer Eretz Yisrael , that the inhabitants were too powerful, that Beneh Yisrael could not prevail without Hashem's help. The goal was to enhance the people's bitahon , their trust in Hashem, to reinforce their awareness of their reliance of G-d's assistance. The meragelim were to come back with greater bitahon , not less. They were to come back with greater enthusiasm, with greater positivity, not with negativity and discouragement. The point of this mission was to make the people feel vulnerable – because moments of vulnerability are powerful moments, moments when a person can reinforce his faith and trust in Hashem, and feel closer to Him than ever before. Tragically, the meraglim did just the opposite. This is why Hashem punished the people for their sin – listening to the spies and deciding that they could not enter the land – by spending forty years in the desert. For forty years, they lived in an area where naturally a person is incapable of living. For forty years, they lived under Hashem's miraculous care and protection – to build their bitahon . When we confront a difficult reality, when we feel hopeless, when we feel lost, when our lives or the world seems completely out of control and upside-down – this is a powerful moment of vulnerability. This is a time for us to let go, to reaffirm our belief that Hashem controls the world, that nothing is random, that everything is under His control. We read in Sefer Bereshit (21:14) that after Abraham Abinu sent away Hagar, ותלך ותתע במדבר באר שבע – she got lost in the desert. Rashi explains this pasuk to mean that Hagar worshipped idols. The pasuk does not seem to say anything about idol-worship, but somehow, Rashi understood that this is what it means. The explanation is that when a person feels "lost," this shows a deficiency in his emunah , in his faith in Hashem. If we truly believed that Hashem controls everything, then we will never feel "lost" under any circumstances. No matter how chaotic the world seems, no matter what life throws at us, no matter how uncertain the future appears – we will feel calm and reassured, recognizing that everything is under control. We must try to live with this sense of calmness and serenity. We should not be wasting our time or emotional energy trying to figure out what is going to happen, what the future will bring, how events will unfold. The future is G-d's problem, not our problem. Our responsibility is to do our best in the present, and to leave the rest to Him.

The Ruach is given not for status, but for service and transformation. Listen to Rabbi David's Shabbat sermon based on Parasha B'ha'alot'kha.

Parasha Beha'alotchaTe lezen: Num. 8:1-12:16 / Zach. 2:14(10)–4:7 / Hand. 2: 1-21.Maar Mozes zei tegen hem: Zet u zich voor mij in? Och, waren allen van het volk van de HEERE maar profeten, dat de HEERE Zijn Geest over hen gaf! Num. 11:29 (HSV)Wat gebeurt er wanneer de Geest van de Eeuwige werkt buiten de plek waar mensen Hem verwachten? In Parasha Beha'alotcha lezen we over de menora, de reis door de woestijn, het gemopper van Israël en de zware last die Mozes draagt. Midden in dat alles verschijnen Eldad en Medad: twee mannen die in het kamp profeteren. Jozua wil hen stoppen, maar Mozes ziet er geen bedreiging in. Integendeel, hij verlangt dat heel het volk van de HEERE profetisch zal zijn. In deze aflevering verbinden we Numeri 11 met Zacharia's woorden: “Niet door kracht en niet door geweld, maar door Mijn Geest,” en met Joël en Handelingen 2.Support the show

Como diria o cantor Wando: Você é luzÉ raio estrela e luar, Manhã de sol, Meu iaiá, meu ioiô. O que estamos fazendo para alcançar este objetivo: ser luz ? Onde a TORÁ nos ensina que sempre temos uma segunda chance? Ouça

The Torah commands in Parashat Beha'alotecha (10:9) that when Beneh Yisrael are compelled to fight a war against an enemy, "Va'hare'otem Ba'hasoserot" – they must sound trumpets. The Rambam, in the beginning of Hilchot Ta'aniyot, understands this verse as a more general command to pray to G-d during times of crisis. The Torah speaks of a war against "Ha'sar Ha'sorer Etchem" ("the enemy who terrorizes you"), and the Rambam interprets the word "Sar" to mean any form of "Sara" – trouble, or crisis. Whenever we face some kind of danger, we are obligated to turn to Hashem in prayer. Nowadays, when we do not have the special "Hasoserot," the Misva to turn to G-d in prayer remains. It must be emphasized that the Rambam here does not merely advise us – or even urge us – to turn to Hashem in times of crisis. Rather, he presents this as an outright obligation, as Misvat Aseh – a Biblical command. The Torah requires us to pray to G-d for help when crisis befalls us. The reason for this obligation is that Hashem brings us crises specifically to draw our minds and hearts toward Him. Over the course of our busy lives, with all the countless responsibilities and pressures that we have, we can very easily forget about G-d. We might not be as mindful as we should be of how He is caring for us at all times, of how He is providing us with all our needs, of our obligations towards Him, and of the importance of cultivating a deep bond with Him. When crisis strikes, we must realize that Hashem is knocking on our doors, so-to-speak, calling for our attention, asking us to devote more attention to Him. The Hebrew word for "world" is "Olam," which is derived from the word "Ne'elam" – "concealed," or "hidden." G-d created the world as a place where His presence is not always apparent, where He remains concealed, where things appear to run randomly according to the laws of nature. Our challenge is to look beyond the "concealment" and to recognize that He is governing all events – both globally and individually, from behind the veil of the natural order. During times of hardship, the Rambam is telling us, our obligation is to look behind the veil, to turn our attention to Hashem. If we focus only on the practical measures that we must take to address the problem, without turning to G-d in heartfelt prayer, then we are missing the point. On the national level, too, when the Jewish People are in crisis, this is Hashem calling for our attention. We of course owe an enormous debt of gratitude to the courageous soldiers and all those working to protect us from our bitter enemies, who are G-d's messengers sent to safeguard His beloved children. But alongside our appreciation for the messengers – we mustn't forget the One who sent them. In times of crisis – personal or national – let's ensure not to miss the point, and to direct our attention toward Hashem in prayer and repentance.

King Shlomo teaches us in Mishleh (14:27): יראת ה' מקור חיים לסור ממקשי מות – "Fear of G-d is the source of life; turning one away from the traps of death." I believe that this pasuk , if understood properly, is exceedingly powerful, and conveys one of the most important lessons for young people today who struggle with the temptations of modern life. Whenever a person is faced with temptation, he is being offered two contracts, and he needs to choose one. The first contract says: Enjoy now, and ruin the rest of your life. Most of what tempts young people really is enjoyable and fun. Drugs…alcohol…gambling… In the moment, it makes the person happy. He enjoys it. He feels really good. He's excited. But in the long-term – it ruins his life. Once a person starts, it becomes difficult – and sometimes all but impossible – to stop. As the Gemara says about temptation: משביעו – רעב, מרעיבו – שבע . If one satiates his desire – it becomes hungrier for more; if he starves it – it feels satiated. The more a person indulges, the more he wants and the more he needs. This is what we might call the "contract of death." The terms are: You have a great time now, and in the very near future, but you will then pay for this enjoyment the rest of your life, which will be turned upside-down. The other contract says just the opposite: Struggle now, and then enjoy the happiest, most fulfilling life you can have. Yes, there are struggles. But מרעיבו – שבע . If a person accustoms himself to saying "no," to winning the struggle, to resisting temptation, he will find it so much easier for the rest of his life to live a disciplined, accomplished and fulfilling Torah life, which is, undoubtedly, the best life a person could possibly live. This is what King Shlomo is teaching us. יראת ה' – overpowering temptation with the fear of Hashem – is מקור חיים , the source of a rich, happy and fulfilling life. It is what pulls a person away from מוקשי מוות , from the dangerous pitfalls that can literally ruin his life. In our parashah , Parashat Behaalotecha, we learn more about this struggle and how it works. The Torah tells of how Hashem punished Beneh Yisrael for complaining about the conditions in the desert, for objecting to the manna that He provided for them, demanding more. But if we look carefully, we see that they did more than complain. The Torah says, התאוו תאווה – which literally means, "they desired a desire." They weren't faced with temptation. They decided to bring a desire upon themselves. They imagined to themselves that there must be more out there that they were not enjoying. They wanted to have this temptation, because they felt there were missing out. This is what happens to so many young people today. Nobody comes into the world with a natural desire for drugs, alcohol or gambling. But התאוו תאווה – they feel that there must be something rewarding in these activities, that they need to try it, they need to "get it out of their system." But then the תאווה takes over, and threatens to ruin their life. משביעו - רעב . By bringing the desire upon themselves and then feeding it, they make it stronger, resulting in a vicious and catastrophic cycle. When faced with these struggles, one needs to remember the two contracts. There is no third option. By overcoming these challenges, one accesses the מקור חיים – the source to a truly rewarding and beautiful life. This does not mean everything will be easy. No person's life is without difficulty. But if one avoids the מוקשי מוות , the pitfalls that threaten to destroy life, he finds his way to happiness and fulfillment, to the unparalleled joy of following Hashem's will and living a life of meaning and purpose.

A Menorá não era apenas uma fonte de luz no Mishkan e no Templo Sagrado. Segundo a Cabalá e o Chassidismo, suas sete chamas representam as sete emoções fundamentais da alma humana — Chessed, Guevurá, Tiferet, Netzach, Hod, Yessod e Malchut.Nesta aula, exploraremos como cada braço da Menorá corresponde a uma força emocional e espiritual dentro de nós, e como o comando de "Behaalotecha et hanerot" — elevar as chamas — simboliza a missão de elevar e refinar nosso caráter.Descubra por que todas as luzes se voltavam para a chama central, o significado místico do fogo que sobe naturalmente e como a Menorá revela o caminho para transformar emoções em luz, equilíbrio e conexão com o Divino.Curtiu a aula?Faça um pix RABINOELIPIX@GMAIL.COM e nos ajude a darmos sequência neste projeto!#Behaalotecha #Menora #Menorah #Cabala #Kabbalah #Chassidut #Torah #Parasha #SeteEmocoes #Sefirot #DesenvolvimentoEspiritual #LuzDivina #Autoconhecimento #Judaismo #AulaDeTora #RabinoEliahuStiefelmann

The greatest blessing from HaShem is to know and experience His Presence. Listen to Rabbi David's Shabbat sermon based out of Parasha Naso at Congregation Mayim Chayim.

Qual uma grande razão para as pessoas quererem viver? Quais são os dois sentidos que a palavra Levanta te traz? Porque a Torá repete uma descrição 12 vezes igualzinho, qual o segredo por traz disso? Que você e sua familia tenham um Shabat maravilhoso e doce ❤️

Parashat Naso is famous for being the longest Parasha in the entire Torah, as it consists of 176 verses. Not coincidentally, this is also the number of verses in the longest chapter of Tehillim (119), and the number of pages in the longest Masechet in the Talmud, Masechet Baba Batra. The unique significance of this number is revealed to us by the Maharal of Prague (Rav Yehuda Loew, d. 1609). He begins by establishing what has become a well-known principle regarding the number 8 – namely, that it signifies the notion of extending beyond the confines of nature. The world was created in seven days – and, in the teachings of Kabbalah, through the process of the seven Sefirot, spiritual energies – and so the number 7 represents the natural order. The number 8, then, alludes to that which is beyond the limits of nature. Thus, for example, the Berit Mila is performed on a child's eighth day, indicating that we are expected to restrain our natural impulses, to live on a higher plane, where our sacred soul controls our natural body. Likewise, the Maharal explains, the seven lamps of the Menorah in the Bet Ha'mikdash symbolize the natural world – and behind the curtain in the Mikdash there was the eighth "light," the Torah. The sacred Aron (ark) contained the Torah, and it was thus called "Aron," a derivative of the word "Or" – "light." The Torah shines its own form of light – not a natural light that enables us to see with our eyes, but a spiritual light that reaches our souls, and uplifts and inspires us. The Torah is written with the 22 letters of the Hebrew alphabet, the Maharal writes, and when we multiply 22 by 8, we arrive at 176. This number, then, is associated with Torah's supernatural quality, its having originated outside our world, reminding us that it is through the study of Torah that we can extend beyond the confines of our world and connect ourselves to Hashem and to all the powers that lie outside our world. For this reason, the longest Parasha, the longest chapter of Tehillim, and the long section of the Gemara are all connected with this number, as they embody the great power of Torah. This unique power, which is associated with the number 176, also enables us to overcome our foes. Kabbalah teaches that the greatest spiritual force that threatens Beneh Yisrael is represented by one of the grandsons of Esav, a man named Sefo (Tzadi, Peh, Vav), whose name is listed among the twelve chieftains of Edom, the nation that descended from Esav (Bereshit 36:15). The Ramban cites the historian Josephus as relating that Sefo was a fierce enemy of Yaakob Abinu and his family, and when Yaakob's sons brought his remains from Egypt to Hebron for burial in Me'arat Ha'machpela, Sefo and his men waged war against them. However, Yaakob's sons prevailed, captured Sefo, and brought him as a prisoner to Egypt. Sefo would later escape and make his way to what would become Rome, and he is thus the founder of the kingdom of Rome, the bitter enemy of the Jewish People. According to the wisdom of Kabbalah, Sefo represents the spiritual force of our wicked enemies who wage war against us and seek our demise. The Ben Ish Hai (Rav Yosef Haim of Baghdad, 1833-1909) taught that the way we defeat the power of Sefo is through the power of Torah. Indeed, the name "Sefo" in Gematria equals 176 – and we thus overcome his force through the power of Torah, which is represented by that same number. This is why Sefo waged war at that time of Yaakob Abinu's funeral – because he knew that the greatest power Beneh Yisrael possess is the power of Torah, which was embodied by Yaakob. Sefo sought to fight Beneh Yisrael at that time to neutralize this power so he could defeat them – but the power of Yaakob, the power of Torah, prevailed. The Shabbat when we read Parashat Naso – especially coming on the heels of Shabuot, when we renewed our acceptance of the Torah – is an appropriate occasion to remind ourselves of the unique power of Torah learning. As we see the alarming rise of antisemitism around the world, and as the Jewish State finds itself in the midst of a difficult war against its fierce, evil enemies, let us recommit ourselves to Torah learning. Let us all ensure that we are devoting the time and effort that we should to learn, so that we can harness the great power of Torah with which to overcome our nation's bitter foes.

Joel

A certain young man whom I was very close with, and whom I helped a great deal, was getting married. Before the wedding he asked me if I could be an עד קידושין , one of the two witnesses to the kiddushin under the huppah . Now among Ashkenazim, serving as an עד קידושין is considered a great honor, but here in our community, being invited to recite one of the berachot under the huppah is a far greater honor. And I have to say, in all honesty, that I felt hurt by the boy's decision to ask me to be a witness instead of reciting one of the blessings. As mentioned, I was very close with this young man. I helped him grow in his religious observance, and I even helped him in the process of dating and getting engaged. I felt slighted over not having received a berachah . Was I being petty and childish? Was this just my ego going too far? I think that the Gemara teaches us the answer. In Masechet Ketubot, the Gemara discusses the case of a person who was very wealthy, and was accustomed to a comfortable, luxurious lifestyle, until he lost his fortune and became poor. The halachah in this case, surprisingly, is that the people must not only give enough charity to provide him with his basic needs – but also provide him with the comforts and amenities that he was accustomed to. So much so, the Gemara tells, that in the time of Hillel, there was a wealthy man who used to ride in a carriage with someone running ahead of him, and after he fell into hard times, Hillel ruled that he should be provided with a runner. When the people could not find somebody willing to do it, Hillel himself ran in front of this man's carriage. It goes without saying that arrogance and conceit are exceptionally bad qualities from which a person must distance himself from. But there is a huge difference between arrogance and a sense of respect. People need to feel respected. This is a basic human need that we must all acknowledge. There is nothing arrogant or egotistical about wanting to be respected. And in some situations, failing to receive honor hurts. If a person worked very hard to plan an event, for example, and at the event, the speaker acknowledged everyone who volunteered their time except that person, that person will be hurt. This isn't because of arrogance – it's because it's embarrassing. The person feels disrespected. And this is true also of a Rabbi who is very close with the groom. There is a certain expectation of honor – and when that respect is not shown, it feels embarrassing. It hurts. Parashat Naso begins with Hashem commanding Moshe, נשא את ראש בני גרשון גם הם – to count "also" the people of Gershon, the Leviyim who descended from Levi's oldest son, Gershon. In the previous parashah , the family of Kehat – the middle of Levi's three sons – was counted. Kehat was counted first because they were in charge of the most sacred articles in the Mishkan , so they had the more distinguished job. Now, when the time came to count the family of Gershon, Hashem emphasized גם הם – that they, too, must be given honor and respect. As the children of the oldest son, they naturally expected to be treated with honor. And since that honor was not given, and instead the middle son, Kehat, was counted first, Moshe needed to find a way to compensate, to show Gershon honor and distinction so they would not feel embarrassed or disrespected. This is so important for us to realize in our relationships, and in all our interactions with people. People need to feel respected, the way they need oxygen. It's a basic human need. People need to feel respected so they can feel important, that they matter, that their lives are significant and meaningful. This isn't arrogance. It's a basic human need. In every relationship, we need to ensure to make the other person feel respected. We need to realize that their need for respect isn't childish or petty – it's normal. It's human. And we must fill that need. When we speak to people and treat them with respect, we help bring out the best in them. We remind them that they matter, that they have something beautiful and crucial to give to the world – and once they acknowledge that, they will go ahead and make sure to make that beautiful contribution.

ShavuothWat heeft Ruth ons te zeggen op Shavuoth?En welke rol speelt de dorsvloer daarbij? In dit Leerhuis ontdekken we de diepe lijnen van het werk van verlossing op de enige plek waar dat mogelijk is: op de dorsvloer.Support the show

Numerous reasons have been given for the time-honored, cherished custom to eat dairy foods on Shabuot. One of the lesser-known explanations is that offered by the Rama (Rav Moshe Isserles, Poland, 1530-1572), in his glosses to the Shulhan Aruch (Orah Haim 494). Interestingly enough, the custom the Rama describes is to eat a dairy meal followed by a meat meal. As Halacha forbids using the same loaf of bread for a dairy meal and a meat meal, eating these two meals necessitates the use of two separate loaves. These two loaves, the Rama writes, commemorate the special Shabuot sacrifice, which, as the Torah commands in the Book of Vayikra ( 23:17), consisted of two loaves of bread, and was thus named Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem (the "two-breads sacrifice"). We might wonder why, according to the Rama, no such commemoration is made for a similar sacrifice brought on the second day of Pesach. The Korban Ha'omer was offered from the newly-harvested barley on the 16 th of Nissan, and it paralleled the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem brought on Shabuot. The Mishna (Menahot 68b) teaches that each of these two sacrifices functioned as a "Matir" – meaning, it made something permissible. The Korban Ha'omer made it permissible to eat from the newly-harvested crops, and the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem made it permissible to offer Menahot (grain offerings) in the Bet Ha'mikdash from the newly-harvested crop. Meaning, although it was permissible to eat from the new grain after the offering of the Korban Ha'omer on the 16 th of Nissan, it remained forbidden to bring a meal-offering in the Temple from the new grain until the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem was brought on Shabuot. Seemingly, if – as the Rama writes – we make a commemoration on Shabuot for the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem, then we should also make a commemoration on the second day of Pesach for the Korban Ha'omer. Why don't we? The answer lies is a fundamental distinction between these two sacrifices. This distinction is expressed in a comment by the Sefat Emet (Rav Yehuda Aryeh Leib of Ger, Poland, 1847-1905) discussing a situation where, for whatever reason, the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem was not brought on Shabuot. When it comes to the Korban Ha'omer on Pesach, the Sages inferred from a verse that the new grain becomes permissible for consumption after the 16 th of Nissan even if the sacrifice was not offered. Although the sacrifice is what permits the new grain, if there was no sacrifice, the grain becomes permissible after that day. One might have thought that since no such textual inference was made in regard to the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem, the new grain remains forbidden for use with Menahot if this sacrifice is not offered. (This is, indeed, the view taken by the Minhat Hinuch, Siman 307.) The Sefat Emet, however, writes that this is not so. He explains that the Torah does not actually forbid using the new grain for sacrifices before the offering of the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem. Rather, it requires that the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem must be the first sacrifice brought from the new crop. This sacrifice is called a "Minha Hadasha" – "a new grain offering," because it was the first grain offering prepared with the newly-harvested wheat. This is the only reason why sacrifices may not be brought from the new crop before Shabuot – because the special Shabuot offering must be the first sacrifice brought from the new grain. Naturally, then, if – for whatever reason – this sacrifice was not brought, sacrifices may nevertheless be brought from the new crop after Shavuot. This understanding of the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem points to a fundamental distinction between this sacrifice and the Korban Ha'omer on Pesach. The Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem is not actually a "Matir." Its function is not to permit wheat for use with sacrifices. It is offered as part of the celebration of Shabuot, which is called "Yom Ha'bikkurim" (Bamidbar 28:26) – the day of the new produce, when the first portion of newly-harvested wheat is brought as a sacrifice. The Korban Ha'omer, by contrast, is not inherently linked to Pesach. It happens to coincide with Pesach, but it has nothing inherently to do with this holiday. The Torah commanded offering this sacrifice on the 16 th of Nissan to permit eating the new crop, but this offering is not part of the observance of Pesach. This is seen clearly in the Rambam's rulings regarding the distribution of these sacrifices among the Kohanim. Generally speaking, the portions of a sacrifice given to the Kohanim were distributed only among the Kohanim who were "on duty" when the sacrifice was offered. However, the special Yom Tov sacrifices were distributed among any Kohen who wanted a portion, even if the Yom Tov was not during his "shift." In Hilchot Temidin U'musafin, the Rambam writes that the Korban Ha'omer was treated like a regular sacrifice – given only to the Kohanim who were "on duty" that day – but the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem was distributed among all the Kohanim, as it is a Yom Tov sacrifice. This clearly shows that the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem is part of the celebration of Shabuot, whereas the Korban Ha'omer is not part of the celebration of Pesach. This easily explains why, according to the Rama, we make a commemoration of the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem on Shabuot, but make no similar commemoration of the Korban Ha'omer on Pesach. Since the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem was an integral part of the Yom Tob of Shabuot in the times of the Bet Ha'mikdash, it warrants a commemoration now, when we cannot offer the sacrifice. The Korban Ha'omer, by contrast, was not an integral part of the Pesach celebration, and so it does not warrant a commemoration nowadays.

The Gemara in Masechet Sanhedrin (91b) teaches: כל המונע הלכה מפי תלמיד כאילו גוזלו מנחלת אבותיו - "Whoever withholds a halacha from a student, it is as though he steals from his forefathers' estate." Meaning, if a teacher decides not to teach a certain student Torah, having decided that the student is either unworthy or incapable of being taught, then the teacher is guilty of "theft." He is viewed as though he stole from that youngster. To understand the meaning of the Gemara's comment, let us imagine a wealthy person who appoints someone to manage his estate and oversee its distribution after his passing. A few years later, the wealthy fellow passes away, and the appointed administrator of his estate meets with the family. He then decides that a certain child of the deceased is not worthy of a portion of the estate. Does this administrator have the right to deny that son a portion? It goes without saying that he does not. The property belongs to all the children. His role is to manage the estate – not to decide who is in and who is out. The Gemara explains the aforementioned teaching by citing the famous pasuk , תורה ציווה לנו משה, מורשה קהילת יעקב – "Moshe taught us Torah, an inheritance for the congregation of Yaakov" (Devarim 33:4). The Torah is an "inheritance" in the sense that it is given to the entire Jewish People. No teacher has the right to decide that a certain student doesn't deserve a share in Torah, to write off a student and deny him the privilege of a Torah education. The Torah doesn't belong to the teacher; it belongs to the entirety of Am Yisrael , including challenging students. The Gemara then proceeds to state: כל המונע הלכה מפי תלמיד אפילו עוברין שבמעי אמו מקללין אותו - "Whoever withholds a halacha from a student, even the fetuses in their mother's belly curse him." It seems that the Gemara here is imagining the response of an unborn child who sees a teacher decide not to teach students whom he considers incapable of learning. The fetus will begin to fear that maybe he, too, will struggle. Perhaps he will not have the sharpest mind, or will have attention issues, or will suffer from dyslexia or another learning challenge. Does he want to come into a world where only the brightest and most talented kids are given the gift of Torah? Of course not. And so the fetus curses the teacher – because he wants to come into a world where all children are given the opportunity to shine and excel, each in his own way, at his own pace, and on his own level. Rav Dovid Soloveitchik, the famous Rosh Yeshiva of the Brisk Yeshiva in Yerushalayim, was once asked if educators should give greater attention to the elite students, those with the potential to become the outstanding rabbinic leaders of the future. Should educators invest more time and effort in these students, to help ensure they maximize their potential, or should all students be given the same amount of attention? Rav Dovid replied, "Why do you assume that specifically the elite students will become gedolim ?" It was clear to him that educators must invest in all their students equally, because all students have the potential for greatness. A youngster's performance in yeshiva says nothing about who he can or will become as an adult. מורשה קהילת יעקב . The Torah is every Jew's inheritance, and every Jew has the ability to achieve in Torah. And just as we may not give up on any student, we also may never give up on ourselves. No matter what a person's background is, no matter what he has done or hasn't done in the past, no matter his circumstances in the present – the Torah belongs to him. He has a share, and he has the right, and the obligation, to receive his share. A teacher must not deny any student his share in Torah – and a person must not deny himself his share in Torah. Today, more than at any other time, there really is no excuse for not seriously engaging in Torah learning. Modern technology – with all the spiritual challenges it poses – offers every Jew endless opportunities for intensive Torah study. Classes and publications for Jews of all levels are available. And every Jew owes it to himself to avail himself of these opportunities and take his rightful share in Torah. As we celebrate זמן מתן תורתנו , our receiving the Torah at Mount Sinai, let us remember that the Torah was given to each and every one of us – to each and every child, and to each and every adult, and we all have the right and the obligation to experience the unparalleled joy and satisfaction that Torah brings.

A verse in the Book of Hoshea (14:3) states, "U'neshalema Farim Sefatenu" – "We will compensate for the cows with our lips." This means that in the absence of the Bet Ha'mikdash, when we are unable to offer sacrifices ("cows"), we can attain atonement with our lips – by reciting the sections of the Torah that discuss the sacrifices, as through this recitation we are considered to have actually brought these sacrifices. The verse mentions cows, even though other animals were also offered as sacrifices. The Ibn Ezra (Spain, 1089-1167) suggests that since the cow is the biggest animal offered as a Korban, the verse specifies this animal, expressing the idea that even the large offerings can be substituted nowadays with our mouths. Others suggest that the reference to cows alludes to the sin of the golden calf, the grievous sin which our ancestors committed that requires atonement. Finally, there are those who explain that this refers to the situation where the entire nation inadvertently commits a severe misdeed based on a mistaken ruling of the Sanhedrin, a situation which requires the offering a cow for atonement ("Par He'alem Dabar Shel Sibur"). The point being made is that we have the opportunity to attain atonement even for grave sins despite the absence of the Bet Ha'mikdash, through the recitation of the sections of the Torah dealing with the sacrifices. A story told in Masechet Shabbat (12b) seems, at first glance, to contradict this concept. The Gemara there discusses the enactment legislated by the Sages that one may not read by candlelight on Shabbat, as he might tilt the lamp to move the oil toward the flame to make it steadier, which would constitute an act of Shabbat desecration. Rabbi Yishmael Ben Elisha felt confident that he would certainly not make the mistake of tilting the lamp, and so he read by the light of a candle on Shabbat. He ended up mistakenly tilting the lamp. After Shabbat, he wrote in his ledger that when the Bet Ha'mikdash would be rebuilt, he would bring an animal as a Hatat (sin-offering) to atone for this inadvertent violation. It seems that Rabbi Yishmael was not able to atone for this misdeed by reciting the section of the Hatat; he needed to actually bring the sacrifice in order to attain atonement. One explanation might be that reading the section of Korbanot (sacrifices) is effective if one never has the opportunity to actually offer the required sacrifice. But if a person has the privilege of living to see the rebuilding of the Bet Ha'mikdash, then he must offer the sacrifice even though he had recited the section in the Torah. By contrast, the Sapihit Bi'dbash (Rav Hiya Pontremoli, Turkey, 1764–1831), citing the Ma'abar Yabok , asserted that a sin committed during the time of the Bet Ha'mikdash is more grievous, and thus necessitates the actual offering of a sacrifice. After the Temple's destruction, sins lack the same level of gravity, and so they can be atoned even with the recitation of the Korbanot. However, this view appears irreconcilable with the Gemara's account of Rabbi Yishmael, who was obligated to bring a sacrifice for an offense committed after the Temple's destruction. Moreover, the Arizal writes that a person must fulfill all 613 Misvot, and so souls will need to be reincarnated and return after the Bet Ha'mikdash is rebuilt so they can fulfill the Misvot that require a Bet Ha'mikdash. This teaching, too, implies that reciting the Korbanot is not considered equivalent to the actual offering of the sacrifices. A more compelling approach was advanced by the Petah Ha'debir (Rav Haim Binyamin Pontremoli, Turkey, d. 1873), who distinguished between the atonement achieved through the offering of a sacrifice, and the Misva to offer the sacrifice. Reciting the verses that speak of a required sacrifice suffices to atone like that sacrifice, but it does not suffice to satisfy the halachic requirement to bring that sacrifice after committing a misdeed. Therefore, even though Rabbi Yishmael could earn atonement through the recitation of Korbanot, he still bore the obligation to offer a sacrifice when the Bet Ha'mikdash would be rebuilt. Likewise, the Arizal taught that one will have to return after the restoration of the Mikdash to fulfill the Misvot of the sacrifices that could not be fulfilled without a Temple, even though atonement can be achieved even in the absence of the Bet Ha'mikdash, through the reading of Korbanot. One might wonder, then, why we do not read each day the entirety of Parashat Vayikra, which goes through all the different sacrifices which an individual can bring and those which one must bring on certain occasions. If reading about a sacrifice earns a person atonement as though he actually brought the sacrifice, then it would seemingly be recommended to read this entire Parasha each day. Some explain that one attains atonement for his misdeeds through Torah study, and so it is not necessary to read the sections of all the sacrifices every day. Rabbenu Yona (Spain, 1200-1263) writes that when a person makes the decision to perform Teshuba (repentance), he should increase his amount of Torah learning; if he had been accustomed to learning one page a day, then he should learn two pages a day, and so on. This is because Torah study has the ability to erase guilt for one's misdeeds. This is why the blessing in Shemona Esreh in which we beseech G-d to help us repent begins, "Hashibenu Abinu Le'Toratecha" – "Return us, our Father, to Your Torah." As Torah learning is a crucial element of repentance, we ask Hashem to draw us closer to Torah study so we can repent properly. This concept has been understood on the basis of the laws of "Kashering" utensils. The basic principle of "Kashering" is that a non-kosher flavor is expunged from a utensil through the same medium through which it was absorbed. Thus, utensils that were used to cook non-kosher food through direct exposure to fire must be directly exposed to fire to eliminate the forbidden taste so they may become permissible. The Yeser Ha'ra (evil inclination) leads us to sin through the "fire" of forbidden desires, and so we cleanse ourselves from wrongdoing through Torah learning, which is likened to fire. Therefore, some Rabbis explained that it is preferable to immerse oneself in Torah learning to achieve atonement, rather than spend time reading the sections of the Korbanot. Rav Haim Palachi (Turkey, 1788-1868) explained that reading all the sections of the Korbanot is unnecessary because we recite the chapter of "Ezehu Mekoman," which goes through all the various kinds of sacrifices, and this is sufficient for us to be considered to have offered any sacrifice we are required to bring. Another approach was taken by the Hida (Rav Haim Yosef David Azulai, 1724-1806). We are required to recite 100 Berachot each day, and we also recite each morning Baruch She'amar, which contains eleven expressions that begin with the word "Baruch" (not including the two instances of "Baruch" that begin and end the concluding blessing of Baruch She'amar). These 111 blessings, the Hida writes, correspond to the 111 verses of Parashat Vayikra, and by reciting them we are considered to have recited all of Parashat Vayikra. This discussion underscores for us the importance of reading the Korbanot section each morning. As we have seen, this recitation is not simply an admirable and worthwhile practice; it actually provides us with atonement as though we brought the sacrifices in the Bet Ha'mikdash. Therefore, one should make every effort to arrive on time in the synagogue so he can recite this section and reap the great benefits that it offers.

En este episodio hablamos del nuevo libro que comenzamos a estudiar y su relacion con la venida del Mesias.

Whatever sits at the center of your life will eventually lead your life. Listen to Rabbi David's Shabbat sermon based out of Parasha Bamidbar at Congregation Mayim Chayim.

Como você gostaria de ser contado, pelo número ou pelo nome? Porque nosso povo foi contado a partir dos 20 anos de idade? O que acontece nessa fase da vida? De que forma você acha que ressuscitaremos? No mesmo corpo, doente ou sadio? Com roupas ou não? Descubra ouvindo

Rabbi Joey Haber The story is told of a woman who came to a Rabbi seeking advice, explaining that she was in the process of growing in her religious observance, but her husband had been moving in the opposite direction. "Every Friday night," the woman said, with unmistakable pain in her voice, "my husband makes kiddush and then goes to watch television. It is so hard for me to handle." She asked the Rabbi if she should divorce him. "You just said that your husband recites kiddush every Friday night," the Rabbi replied. "Do you know what this means?" The woman was befuddled. She didn't know what to say. "That is such a beautiful thing," the Rabbi explained. "Every week, he pours a cup of wine, lifts it in the air, recites the verses of ויכולו , announcing that Hashem created the world in six days, and he then proclaims the sanctity of Shabbat. This is a precious mitzvah which he performs every week. Sometimes we need to see the flame and ignore the smoke." The woman was stunned. When she returned home, her anxious husband, who knew that she had gone to consult with a Rabbi, asked her what the Rabbi had said. The wife smiled and replied, "The Rabbi said you're a tzaddik ." She explained that the Rabbi emphasized the beauty of the mitzvah of kiddush that he fulfills every Shabbat, and how precious and valuable this mitzvah is. That Friday night, the husband recited kiddush more slowly then in the past, and he then went to watch television. The next Friday night, he stayed at the table for a short while after reciting kiddush before leaving to watch television. The week after that, he remained for the whole meal and only then went to watch. The next Shabbat, he didn't watch television at all. Eventually, he became a fully-committed Torah Jew. The husband went to the Rabbi and asked him about that meeting with his wife. He asked the Rabbi how he knew what to say, and how he knew that he would eventually return to observance. "Simple," the Rabbi said. "I saw what you didn't realize you had." This can be said of all of us. We don't see what we have inside us, the great potential we have, our ability to achieve greatness. And the reason we don't see this is because we're distracted by all the "noise" in our lives, by all the stuff going on, by all the things that society presents to us as important and significance but is really worthless. This "noise" grabs our attention and turns our focus away from who we really are. It draws our focus toward the "smoke" and away from the flame"; toward wasteful, unimportant matters, and away from things that have real value. The Mishnah in Pirkeh Avot (5:21) teaches: בן חמישים לעצה – once a person reaches the age of 50, he is qualified to advise other people. The Hafetz Haim explains that the average lifespan (before the modern era) was around 70 years, and each of the seven decades of life corresponds to one of the seven days of the week. Therefore, once a person reaches the age of 50, he begins his sixth decade – which corresponds to Friday, Erev Shabbat. This is the day when we start transitioning from the mundane workweek to the kedushah of Shabbat. Similarly, once a person reaches the age of 50 or so, he has a clearer sense of priorities, of what's important and what's not important. His life experience has given him a clearer perspective and greater clarity to distinguish between vanity and matters of significance. And so such a person is worth consulting and receiving advice from – because he has a clearer sense of what our priorities should be. The celebration of Shavuot, which we are currently preparing for, serves to remind us what we have and who we are. We spend this day reflecting on the fact that Hashem chose us from all other nations in the world, revealed Himself to us, established a special relationship with us, and gave us His sacred Torah which teaches us how to live a life of meaning. The Torah was given in the quiet desert, away from all the "noise," and the only noise the people heard were the sounds of Hashem's revelation. Matan Torah is about redirecting our focus and attention, about shutting out the noise so we can concentrate on our real selves, on the " kiddush ," the holiness within us, and recommit ourselves to make this our highest priority and our life's mission.

The Midrash teaches that the five Humashim – the books that comprise the Torah – are alluded to in the opening verses of the Torah, which tell of the creation of light on the first day of the world's creation. The word "Or" (light) appears five times in these verses, and they parallel the five Humashim. It follows, then, that the fourth Humash – the Book of Bamidbar, which we begin reading this Shabbat – corresponds to the fourth instance of the word "Or" in these verses: "Va'yabdel Elokim Beh Ha'or U'ben Ha'hoshech" – "G-d separated between light and the darkness" (1:4). What might be the connection between the Book of Bamidbar and the "separation" between light and darkness? The Netziv (Rav Naftali Zvi Yehuda Berlin of Volozhin, 1816-1893) offers a fascinating answer, by explaining the primary theme of Sefer Bamidbar. This book, he writes, traces Beneh Yisrael's transition from a miraculous existence to a natural existence. The book begins at Mount Sinai, in the desert, where Beneh Yisrael relied on G-d's miracles in order to survive. They received the manna from the heavens, and water from a supernatural well that accompanied them as they traveled. The Ananeh Ha'kabod ("clouds of glory") protected them from the elements and from enemy attack. Beneh Yisrael journeyed for forty years in a region that was ordinarily uninhabitable, under Hashem's miraculous care and protection. At the end of Sefer Bamidbar, Beneh Yisrael find themselves on the border of the Land of Israel, nearly ready to cross into the land. There they would live a natural existence – fighting wars against enemies, growing crops, building cities, and developing an economy. Of course, this natural existence would require G-d's intervention; even when leading a natural lifestyle, nothing can succeed without Hashem's help. But once they crossed into the land, Beneh Yisrael were no longer cared for miraculously; they lived in accordance with the laws of nature. This is why at the end of the Book of Bamidbar, Beneh Yisrael take up arms and fight wars. They begin preparations for the battles to conquer the land, and for the division of the land. After living a miraculous existence for forty years, they now needed to transition to a natural mode of existence. The Netziv explains that this is why Sefer Bamidbar is associated with the "separation" between light and darkness. Light symbolizes G-d's open miracles, which make His control of the world unmistakably clear and evident. By contrast, darkness symbolizes the veil of the natural world, which conceals the Hand of Providence. When nature follows its course, we do not see Hashem, though we must firmly believe that He controls all events, random and natural as they might outwardly seem. Just as darkness makes it difficult to see that which we know exists, nature makes it difficult to see Hashem's control and governance, but we know that He is behind everything and orchestrating everything that happens. Hence, Sefer Bamidbar is associated with the distinction between light and darkness – because it signifies Beneh Yisrael's transition from a supernatural existence to a natural one. The Netziv explains on this basis why the Sages calls Sefer Bamidbar "Humash Ha'pekduim" – the "Book of Countings," which later evolved into the name, "Numbers." This name refers to two censuses of Beneh Yisrael that were taken in Sefer Bamidbar. We might wonder, why are these events viewed as the primary theme and essence of this book? So much happens in the Book of Bamidbar – why would the Sages focus on the two occasions when the people were counted when choosing a name for this book? The answer, the Netziv writes, is that the two censuses signify the transition that Beneh Yisrael underwent over the course of this Sefer. The first census was conducted for the purpose of arranging Beneh Yisrael's camp around the Mishkan in the desert, whereas the second was conducted to prepare for the apportioning of the territory of Eretz Yisrael among the tribes. The difference between these two censuses reflects the difference between the "light" and the "darkness," between the miraculous existence in the desert, and the natural existence in Eretz Yisrael. Therefore, this Sefer is indeed "Humash Ha'pekudim," a book of "countings," because the two countings demonstrate the transition that constitutes the essence of this book, the transition from the miracles of the desert to life in Eretz Yisrael, where G-d cares for and protects us not overly, but behind the veil of the laws of nature.

To walk in G-d's ways is to dwell in His presence. Listen to Rabbi David's Shabbat sermon based out of Parashah Behar-Bechukotai at CMC.

Imagina que ganhou 500 milhões de dólares na loteria americana mas para para receber o prêmio tivesse uma condição, você faria? Qual a relação de mandamentos com conexão? Ouça esse Divrei e descubra como melhorar sua conexão e seu sustento

In the opening verses of Parashat Behukotai, the Torah promises great reward "Im Be'hukotai Telechu" – "If you follow My statutes." Rashi, in one of the more famous passages in his Torah commentary, writes that this phrase does not actually refer to Misva observance. After all, the very next words of the verse are "Ve'et Misvotai Tishmeru" – "and you observe My commands." Necessarily, then, the phrase "Im Be'hukotai Telechu" must denote something other than the performance of Misvot. Rashi therefore explains that it means "She'tiheyu Amelim Ba'Torah" – "that you are toiling in Torah." Many have noted that Rashi speaks here not of the study of Torah, but rather of "Amelut" – toil, hard work and exertion, investing a great deal of effort to learn. The importance of "Amelut" can be seen already in the events surrounding Matan Torah, the giving of the Torah at Sinai, which we will soon commemorate on the festival of Shabuot. The Gemara (Shabbat 88a) teaches that "Kafa Alehem Har Ke'gigit" – G-d lifted Mount Sinai and suspended it over Beneh Yisrael, threatening to annihilate them if they did not accept the Torah. They were not given a choice; they were coerced into accepting G-d's will. Many have raised the question of how to reconcile the Gemara's teaching with the Torah's account of Matan Torah, which tells that Beneh Yisrael willingly and excitedly accepted the Torah even before being informed of what it entails, enthusiastically pronouncing, "Na'aseh Ve'nishma" – "We will do and we will hear" (Shemot 24:7). If they happily announced their commitment to the Torah, then why did G-d need to threaten them and force the Torah upon them? A number of commentators answered that Beneh Yisrael committed willingly to the Torah She'bi'chtab – the written Torah, but not to the Torah She'be'al Peh – the oral law, which was eventually written into what we know as the Mishna. Coercion was necessary to force them to accept even the Torah She'be'al Peh. Why would Beneh Yisrael agree to the written Torah, but not to the oral halachic tradition? We might draw a comparison to a person who wants to stay fit and keep healthy without having to exercise. Instead of working out in the gym, he just wants a pill that he could take that would keep him thin and in shape no matter what or how much he eats, or how little he moves... Similarly, Beneh Yisrael were excited about accepting the Torah – but they didn't want to have to work for it. They wanted to be given a simple, straightforward, easy-to-read text that explained to them very clearly and succinctly what they needed to do. They wanted the instructions spoon-fed to them, presented to them in a lucid, organized fashion. But this is not how the Torah is meant to be learned. The Gemara (Kiddushin 30b) teaches that Torah study is the "antidote" to the Yeser Ha'ra (evil inclination). We overcome our negative tendencies and sinful impulses by immersing ourselves in Torah, by intensively applying ourselves and exerting effort to learn. If the Torah would be spoon-fed, it would not have this effect of empowering us against the Yeser Ha'ra. This requires "Amelut" – hard work and struggle. In fact, even when Rabbi Yehuda Ha'nasi wrote down the Oral Law, seeing that this was necessary to ensure its survival, he intentionally made the text ambiguous and difficult to understand. He maintained the delicate balance between making the material accessible and necessitating effort to comprehend it. "Amelut" is crucial to the process of Torah learning, as it is only through hard work that we achieve the spiritual benefits of Torah study, the strength to defeat the Yeser Ha'ra in its various forms. As we saw, Rashi explains the phrase "Im Be'hukotai Telechu" as a reference to exertion in Torah study. He perhaps read the word "Be'hukotai" ("My statutes") as alluding to the rules of interpreting the Torah text, the thirteen "Middot She'ha'Torah Nidreshet Bahem" – methods by which the Sages extracted Halachot from the written Torah, as listed by Rabbi Yishmael, and as we recite in our prayers each morning. These thirteen rules of interpretation represent the difference between a clear, lucid body of text, and a difficult text that can be understood only with rigorous study and analysis. We are promised reward not for simply learning Torah – but for investing the effort to learn "Be'hukotai," to study the Sages' intricate, complex discussions of the Torah text and their derivation of Halacha from its words. As we prepare for the celebration of Shabuot, let us commit to not only learn Torah – but to toil in Torah, to invest effort, so we can reap all the precious spiritual benefits that it offers us.

The Torah commands us at the end of Parashat Behar, לא תעשו לכם אלילים – not to make idols (26:1). This command might at first seem irrelevant to us, as we live in a time where nobody bows down to statues the way they did in the ancient world. But when we look a bit deeper, I believe this mitzvah is extremely important and presents us with a crucial lesson for our lives. Let's begin with the story of three great men who risked their lives to obey this command. During the time of the Babylonian exile, the emperor Nevuchadnetzar had a large statue built, and he ordered everyone in the kingdom to bow down to this statue. There were three righteous Jews who worked in the king's palace – Hananyah, Mishael and Azaryah – and they refused to bow to the idol, even at the threat of the death. Nevuchadnetzar ordered that they be thrown into a furnace, but they miraculously survived. The Gemara in Masechet Sanhedrin (92b) makes a remarkable comment about this story. From the pesukim in the Book of Daniel that tell this story, the Gemara notes, it appears that Hananyah, Mishael and Azaryah made a point of keeping on their official uniforms when they were being thrown into the furnace. Even during these moments, when it seemed that they were going to be killed, they did not change into simple clothes. They insisted on wearing their official garb. The Gemara learns from this that אפילו בשעת הסכנה לא ישנה אדם את עצמו מן הרבנות שלו – even when a person is in danger, he shouldn't compromise his dignity. He should remain composed and maintain a respectable demeanor even when he's under duress, when his life becomes challenging and even when it is at risk. Hananyah, Mishael and Azaryah were heroes not only for steadfastly remaining loyal to Hashem under the threat of death – but also for doing it with composure and dignity. This aspect of their story perhaps sheds light on the Gemara's comment later (93a) about the aftermath of this miracle. The Gemara states that people ridiculed the other Jews following this incident, telling them, יש לכם אלוק כזה ואתם משתחוים לצלם – "You have a G-d like this, and you're bowing to an idol?!" The people saw not only the great miracle – but also the honor and dignity displayed by Hananyah, Mishael and Azaryah. They turned to the other Jews and asked, "You have a G-d who can elevate you to such great heights – how can you lower yourselves by bowing to idols? This is how great you could become – and you choose to get involved in silly idols, instead?" "Idols" are the antithesis of the stature of greatness embodied by Hananyah, Mishael and Azaryah. They are our model of dignity, of honorability, the respect with which a Jew is supposed to live. The Torah strictly warns us, לא תעשו לכם אלילים – not to compromise our stature by getting involving in silliness, in vanity, in nonsense. One of the "idols" of our time is gossip. We so often find ourselves speaking about other people – about who might be getting engaged, who might be breaking up, who might be expecting a child, who might be buying a new house, who might be switching jobs or opening a new business, who might be getting divorced, and so on. I highly recommend when such conversations start to take a step back and ask the question that the non-Jews asked our ancestors after the miracle of Hananyah, Mishael and Azaryah: יש לכם אלוק כזה ואתם משתחוים לצלם – We have such a G-d, and we're getting involved in such pettiness? We are Hashem's special nation, and this is what interests us? We were given the Torah, the potential for kedushah , for spiritual greatness – and we waste our time talking about other people's personal affairs that have nothing to do with us, and that we know nothing about? Aren't we better than this?? Let us remember the Gemara's timeless teaching: לא ישנה אדם את עצמו מן הרבנות שלו . At all times, let's keep our dignity, our self-respect, our sense of self-worth and self-importance. We matter too much to waste our time on nonsense. Our mission is too significant for us to allow ourselves to bow to "idols," to meaningless things. Let's stay far away from the idols of vanity, from things that don't really matter, that have no value, that we have no reason to concern ourselves with – and instead devote our time, our energy, and our attention to the things that really matter, that have real value, and that really should concern us.

Lag BaOmer revela a dimensão mais profunda da realidade: a luz oculta da Cabalá transmitida por Rabi Shimon bar Yochai.A aula explora os segredos de sua vida, a revelação do Zohar e o significado espiritual do dia de sua partida — não como fim, mas como manifestação máxima de luz.Uma imersão na energia de Lag BaOmer, entendendo como acessar essa luz e aplicá-la na vida prática.CURTIU A AULA?FAÇA UM PIX RABINOELIPIX@GMAIL.COM E NOS AJUDE A DARMOS SEQUÊNCIA#chassidut #mistica #judaismo #Parasha #tora #torah #eliahu #behar #vaicra #vayikra #Midrashim #judeu #rabino #lagbaomer #rabishimon #baryochai #rebe #rebbe #zohar #kabala #cabala #akiva #rabiakiva

The Moadim remind us that everything godly is orderly. Listen to Rabbi David's Shabbat sermon based out of Parasha Emor at Congregation Mayim Chayim.

Que diferença tem entre falar e dizer segundo nossos sábios? Como não deixar subir o orgulho de si mesmo, tem alguma receita? Esta semana este Divrei TORÁ ultrapassou os 29.000 reproduções e como digo Baruch Hashem! Se alguém gostou de um já valeu para deixarmos este mundo

Parashat Emor concludes with the disturbing story of the "Megadef," the individual who publicly blasphemed G-d. The man was brought before Moshe, and Hashem informed Moshe that blasphemy is a capital crime, and this individual must therefore be put to death. Rashi (24:10) brings different explanations for what drove the "Megadef" to blaspheme G-d. One approach is that he had found himself on the losing side of an unfortunate legal dispute. The background to this dispute dates back to Beneh Yisrael's period of slavery in Egypt, when this man's mother was desired by an Egyptian man, and he schemed to have an illicit relationship with her. The "Megadef" was the product of this forbidden union. As such, he did not legally belong to his mother's tribe, the tribe of Dan. When he tried pitching his tent in Dan's territory, he was taken to court, and he lost the case. Since his father was an Egyptian, he did not have legal rights to territory among the people of Dan. This background to the story perhaps explains a subtle nuance in Hashem's instructions to Moshe. After commanding that the "Megadef" must be given capital punishment, G-d told Moshe that this is the law for all blasphemers. He said: "Ish Ish Ki Yekalel Elokav Ve'nasa Het'o" – "Any person who blasphemes his G-d shall bear his sin" (24:15). Curiously, G-d here repeats the word "Ish" ("person"), perhaps suggesting that He refers to two different people. The explanation might be that Hashem was alluding to the two guilty parties in this tragic story. True, the "Megadef" himself committed a grievous offense for which he needed to be severely punished, but the other party, the person who fought against him, also shared a not-insignificant share of the guilt. Certainly, his insensitivity and decision to pursue legal action in no way justified the blasphemy spoken by the "Megadef," because even when we endure hardship and suffer hostility, we are expected to maintain our composure and our faith in Hashem. Nevertheless, the other party to this dispute cannot be excused for angering the "Megadef" and leading him to this grave sin. Hashem thus told Moshe, "Ish Ish Ki Yekalel Elokav Ve'nasa Het'o" – both parties bear a degree of guilt in the case of blasphemy, because provoking a person and turning a resolvable situation into a fight – even if this does not justify the other party's extreme reaction – is wrong. Not every fight that can be fought should be fought. In fact, in the vast majority of situations, fights should not be fought. Being right does not make fighting the right decision. And so very often, both parties are guilty, because even the party that is technically correct was wrong for pursuing the matter and fighting about it.

In this week's episode Rabbi Kohn discusses the importanve of not letting negativity hold you back. He brings out from the Parsha's commandments to kohanim thatwe must be postive and not let any negativity take us down. Rabbi Kohn also speaks about how the Kohen Gadol was a national figure. How he did not show any signs of mourning and what we can learn from that. Subscribe to The Practical Parsha Podcast. For questions or comments please email RabbiShlomoKohn@gmail.com. To listen to Rabbi Kohn's other podcast use this link- the-pirkei-avos-podcast.castos.com/  TO SUPPORT THE BENSALEM JEWISH OUTREACH CENTER AND HELP RABBI KOHN REACH HIS GOAL USE THIS SECURE LINK DONATE HERE If you would like to support this podcast please use this secure link to donate: SUPPORT THE PODCAST  Chapters (00:00:00) - The Practical Parasha Podcast(00:01:22) - A Moment of Reflection on Torah Study(00:03:08) - Parshas Emor(00:03:33) - Parshha(00:08:26) - The Parasha(00:13:40) - The Kohanim and Signs of Mourning(00:18:45) - The Kohen Gadal(00:21:55) - The Commandment of Sukkos

In one of the most famous – and most misquoted – verses in the Torah, we are commanded in Parashat Kedoshim (19:18), "Ve'ahabta Le're'acha Kamocha' – "You shall love your fellow as yourself." I say "misquoted" because the command does not conclude with the word "Kamocha" ("as yourself"). The verse continues, "Ani Hashem" – "I am G-d." It stands to reason that the pronouncement "Ani Hashem" constitutes part of the definition of this command, and informs us about the kind of love that we are to feel toward our fellow. The Meshech Hochma (Rav Meir Simcha Ha'kohen of Dvinsk, 1843-1926) offers several explanations of this command, and for why the Torah adds, "Ani Hashem." One approach he suggests is that we are to love our fellow in the same manner that we are commanded to love Hashem. It goes without saying that we cannot see G-d, and we cannot perceive Him directly with any of our senses. Nevertheless, we are to strive to love Hashem, knowing that He is infinitely great, compassionate, kind and merciful. We are to long for a relationship with Him and to understand Him even though we cannot see Him with our eyes. This is true also of the love we are to feel and show to our fellow Jews. This love must not be dependent upon our experiences with them, or upon what we know about them. Just as we believe in Hashem's greatness even though we cannot see Him directly, similarly, we are to firmly believe in the greatness of Am Yisrael, in the precious value of our fellow Jew, even if we cannot see it. The Torah therefore adds, "Ani Hashem" – indicating that we must love our fellow Jews the way we love Hashem. This requires us, first and foremost, to feel love and concern even for Jews whom we've never met, and whom we know nothing about. When we hear that a Jew is in need in a different part of the world, then we must do what we can to help, and pray for that person, even though we know nothing about him or her. But additionally, this means that we are to love our fellow Jews whom we know but are not particularly impressed with, or don't particularly like. Just as we must love Hashem even though He occasionally does things which appear harsh and to our detriment, firmly believing in His goodness, we must similarly believe in the goodness of all our fellow Jews, even if we cannot see it. We are to recognize that although all people are flawed, every person has a precious soul and is worthy of our genuine love and respect. The Misva of "Ve'ahabta Le're'acha Kamocha," then, requires us to believe in the greatness of each of our fellow Jews irrespective of our experiences with them, and to thereby arouse our feelings of love toward them.

Parasha Tazria-MetsoraMelaatsheid aan kleding en huis.Deze week duiken we diep in de dubbele parasha Tazria-Metsora, die zich richt op de complexe wetten rondom reinheid en onreinheid. We focussen ons op de ziekte van tzara'at, vaak vertaald als melaatsheid.We verkennen niet alleen de letterlijke voorschriften uit Leviticus, maar vooral de diepe geestelijke symboliek die hierin schuilgaat. Melaatsheid wordt gezien als een fysieke uiting van een innerlijke breuk met de Eeuwige, veroorzaakt door zonden zoals laster, gierigheid en hoogmoed. Wat is daarom de betekenis van de verschillende materialen – wol, linnen, leer en weefsel? We spreken over de interpretatie van de reinigingsrituelen voor kleding en huizen als een noodzakelijk proces van berouw, het afleggen van oude gewoonten en het herstellen van de verbinding tussen hemel en aarde. Deze boodschap nodigt je uit tot zelfreflectie: hoe is de staat van jouw "huis", je kleding en je innerlijke wereld? Luister mee naar deze verhelderende les over genezing, verzoening en de weg terug naar de gemeenschap.hg AncoSupport the show

Much of Parashiyot Tazria-Mesora is devoted to the topic of Sara'at – the affliction that would befall a person on account of certain misdeeds, primarily, the grievous sin of Lashon Ha'ra, negative speech about other people. King David, in a famous verse in Tehillim (34:14), instructs us, "Nesor Leshoncha Me'ra" – "Guard your tongue from evil," urging us to refrain from Lashon Ha'ra. Curiously, this verse continues, "U'sfatecha Mi'daber Mirma" – "and your lips from speaking deceit." At first glance, this means that we are to refrain from both negative speech about other people, and also from misleading others through dishonesty. We must wonder, however, why the verse combines these two admonitions. Seemingly, these are two completely distinct ills – Lashon Ha'ra, and deceit. Why would David combine them into a single warning, urging us to restrain our mouths from both negative talk about people and from dishonesty? We might perhaps arrive at a new understanding of this verse by exploring the psychological underpinnings of the desire to speak Lashon Ha'ra, why we are so often and so naturally inclined to hear and share negative information about other people, and why we find it so difficult to refrain from such speech. The most common reason people enjoy speaking Lashon Ha'ra, I think, is to feel good about themselves. We are all human, and human beings, by definition, are flawed and imperfect. A person's flaws and imperfections make him uncomfortable, bringing feelings of shame, inadequacy and insecurity. Speaking of other people's failings works like a drug to alleviate this discomfort. Focusing one's attention on another person's inadequacies brings a sense of superiority, thereby allowing him to feel good about himself. This is the lure of Lashon Ha'ra, and why nearly every person feels tempted to speak negatively about others. Since every person has faults which make him uncomfortable, every person feels a natural impulse to alleviate this discomfort the easy way – by looking down on other people, by talking about what they do wrong. However, like with all "drugs," this is the wrong way to handle uncomfortable feelings. When the fleeting rush of excitement fades, the person is still left with his deficiencies, and thus with his feelings of insecurity. Looking down on other people temporarily blinds a person to his own faults, but those faults remain, and will continue to make him feel uneasy and insecure. This might be the meaning of the verse in Tehillim cited earlier. "Guard your tongue from evil, and your lips from speaking deceit." The "deceit" mentioned in this verse perhaps refers to the self-deception of Lashon Ha'ra. When one speaks Lashon Ha'ra, he deceives himself, pretending that he is more impressive and accomplished than he really is. Lashon Ha'ra is all about fooling oneself into thinking that he is great by pointing out the failings of other people. What, then, is the proper way to deal with our feelings of insecurity? How, as imperfect people, can we feel good about ourselves and our lives? The answer is found in the very next verse in Tehillim: "Sur Me'ra Va'aseh Tob" – "Turn away from evil, and do goodness." Quite simply, the way to feel good about ourselves is by trying to be better. Rather than deceiving ourselves, we should instead honestly acknowledge our faults, admit to ourselves that we – like all people – are imperfect and are meant to be imperfect, and try to be better. If we want to live in peace with ourselves, we need to stop fooling ourselves and to instead work hard to address our faults and improve. No, this will not bring the same excitement as hearing or sharing "juicy," unflattering gossip about the people around us. But it will have the long-term effect of making us feel good about ourselves, of bringing us peace of mind and real fulfillment, as we know that we are genuinely making an effort to live our best lives and be the best version of ourselves.

The Torah in Parashat Shemini tells the tragic story of Nadab and Abihu – two of Aharon's sons, who perished on the very first day they began serving as Kohanim in the Mishkan. After a special series of sacrifices were offered, with Aharon's sons performing the service for the first time, a fire descended from the heavens onto the altar and consumed the sacrifices, signalling the arrival of the Shechina (divine presence) into the Mishkan. Thereafter, Nadab and Abihu brought an incense offering, whereupon a fire came and consumed them. Rashi (10:2) brings different opinions as to the precise sin committed by Aharon's sons. One view – which appears in the Gemara (Erubin 63a) – is that of Rabbi Eliezer, who explains that "Horu Halacha Bi'fneh Moshe Rabban" – Nadab and Abihu were guilty of determining the Halacha without consulting with their Rabbi, Moshe. They reasoned that although a supernatural fire came down onto the altar from the heavens, there was nevertheless a requirement for the Kohanim to kindle a fire of their own on the altar, and this is the reason why they brought their offering. In truth, this conclusion was correct; there was, in fact, such a requirement. Nevertheless, Nadab and Abihu committed a grave offense by acting independently on their line of reasoning without first receiving guidance from Moshe. In Moshe's presence, they did not have the authority to establish Halachic norms on their own. Therefore, although their reasoning was entirely correct, they were guilty of a grievous sin in that they did not submit to Moshe Rabbenu's authority. The Lebush Ha'ora (Rav Mordechai Yoffe, c. 1530-1612) noted that Rabbi Eliezer's understanding of this episode is rooted in a careful reading of the text. In telling of Nadab and Abihu's offering, the Torah writes that they offered an "Esh Zara Asher Lo Siva Otam" – "a foreign fire which He did not command them." If the problem with the Nadab and Abihu's act was the offering itself, then the Torah should have simply stated that they brought an "Esh Zara" – an offering that was foreign, that was unwarranted and hence forbidden. But the Torah added "Asher Lo Siva Otam" – that Nadab and Abihu did not receive the command to bring this offering, suggesting that this was the essence of their sin. Hashem had taught Moshe the rule that the Kohanim were to produce their own fire on the altar, but this information had not yet been communicated to Aharon's sons. Moshe had been commanded to place fire on the altar – but Nadab and Abihu's hadn't. And thus the Torah emphasizes that this was an offering about which Moshe was commanded, but they weren't – and they were therefore punished for acting independently. This tragedy presents us with a crucial lesson in humility. Namely, even when we are confident that we are correct, we must still consult with those wiser and more knowledgeable than us. We must have the humility to recognize our limits, to realize that even things which seem obvious and intuitive to us might not necessarily be correct. We need to acknowledge that there are people with greater knowledge and wisdom whose advice is valuable and even indispensable. We should never feel too confident to ask, to seek guidance, to double check, to consult, to request advice. Even when we are certain, we must humbly question our conclusion and receive instruction and insight from those who know more than we do.

SheminiDe lezingen van parshat Shemini zijn Leviticus 9:1 – 11:47 en 2 Samuël 6:1 - 7:17. We focussen in de onderwijzing in het bijzonder op de vijfde aliyah. Dit is het gedeelte van Leviticus 10:16-20. We lezen dat Eliëzar en Ithamar terechtgewezen worden door Mozes, vanwege de bok van het zondoffer. Zij hadden deze verbrand, in plaats van opgegeten. We lezen hoe hun vader Aäron een antwoord geeft aan Mozes, dat hem geruststelt. Wat heeft dit alles met rouw te maken? En hoe geven we rouw een gezonde plaats in ons leven? Aan welke regels is dit gebonden…?Support the show

Toward the end of the Maggid section, we read the famous teaching of Rabban Gamliel: "Whoever did not say the following three things on Pesach has not fulfilled his obligation: Pesach, Masa, and Marror." Rabban Gamliel then proceeds to explain the meaning and significance of these three Misvot. The Pesach sacrifice was offered in the times of the Bet Ha'mikdash to commemorate the miracle of the plague of the firstborn, when Hashem "skipped" ("Pasach") over Beneh Yisrael's homes on the night of the Exodus, protecting them from the plague. The Masa commemorates the fact that Beneh Yisrael left Egypt hastily, without having had time to prepare and to allow their dough to rise. And the Marror symbolizes the "bitterness" of slavery from which our ancestors were saved. At the Seder, we are obligated to discuss the meaning of these three Misvot. Many commentators noted that this passage is stated out of chronological sequence. The "bitterness" of slavery, quite obviously, preceded the plague of the firstborn and Beneh Yisrael's frantic departure from Egypt. Yet, surprisingly, Rabban Gamliel first discusses the Pesach sacrifice and Masa – which commemorate the events of the Exodus – and only then mentions the Marror, which represents the slavery that our ancestors endured prior to their redemption. Why is the Marror mentioned last? Numerous answers have been given to this question, one of which emerges from a deeper understanding of Rabban Gamliel's teaching. Many years ago, as a young Rabbi, I was approached by a group of young men in the community who asked me to deliver a weekly class, which they would host on a rotational basis. These fellows were not particularly observant, and I was very pleased that they expressed interest in a weekly Shiur (Torah class). But when I showed up for the first class, I was aghast. The table was set up for a card game, with chips, cigarettes and beer bottles. I felt very uncomfortable, and I asked the host what this was all about. He explained that this group meets every week for a card game, so they figured they would begin the evening with a Torah class. After that first class, I consulted with a certain great Rabbi to receive guidance. I did not think it was appropriate for me to give a Shiur to these people under these conditions. I'll never forget what the Rabbi told me. "What they do after the Shiur is none of your business," he said. "Your job is to teach them Torah. And the light of Torah will change them." I accepted the advice, and he proved correct. Gradually, all these young men discontinued their improper behavior. It did not happen immediately, but it happened. On another occasion, I was asked to deliver a weekly Torah class to a group of men on Shabbat. Every week, the man who hosted the Shiur in his home would get up and leave in the middle. I later found out that he left for work. Once again, I consulted with a great Rabbi in the community, asking if it was appropriate for me to continue teaching a Torah class in the home of a Shabbat desecrator who gets up to leave in the middle to go to work. "Are you going to wait for him to stop working on Shabbat before teaching him Torah?" the Rabbi told me. Now this man is fully observant, learns Torah for two hours every day, and gives large amounts of money to Sedaka. Three times every weekday, in the Amida prayer, we ask Hashem to help us repent. We ask, "Hashibenu Abinu Le'Toratecha Ve'korbenu Malkenu La'abodatecha" – "Bring us back, our Father, to Your Torah, and draw us close, our King, to Your service." We ask that we be returned to Torah even before our service is complete. We do not wait until our behavior is perfect, until we have fully performed Teshuba, before learning Torah and trying to draw close to Hashem. To the contrary – we are to take the first steps even in our state of imperfection, as these steps will help us improve. This might be the deeper meaning of Rabban Gamliel's teaching about "Pesach, Masa, U'marror." The word "Pesach" means to skip. Rabban Gamliel is teaching us to "skip" right to the "Masa." In a different context, the Sages commented that the word "Masa" is associated with the word "Misva," for we must observe Misvot with zeal and alacrity just as the dough must be handled quickly and rigorously to avoid becoming Hametz. We are to skip to the stage of "Masa," of Misva observance, even before addressing the "Marror" – the "bitterness" of sin and religious failings. Theoretically, we should first cleanse ourselves of wrongdoing before coming to serve G-d. In practice, however, this does not work. If we refrain from Misvot until we fully repent from our misdeeds, we will likely never feel ready to begin our service of Hashem. Rabban Gamliel therefore urges us to skip the stage of "Marror," to begin performing Misvot even if our behavior is far from perfect – as the light of Misvot will help us improve. We begin the Seder with the words "Kadesh U'rhatz" – referring to Kiddush and hand-washing. The message here is that we should strive for "Kadesh" – for holiness, even before we have "washed" ourselves, before we are fully "cleansed" of wrongdoing. Hashem wants us to begin learning Torah and performing Misvot even if we are currently far from perfect, and to trust that the good habits we develop, and the spiritual power of Torah and Misva observance, will impact our souls and our behavior, and lead us to greater purity.

Several different explanations have been given for why the Shabbat preceding Pesach is given the name "Shabbat Ha'gadol" – literally, "the Great Shabbat." One of the lesser-known reasons is a fascinating connection between this Shabbat and Abraham Abinu. The Gemara in Masechet Rosh Hashanah (11) brings a debate between Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Yehoshua as to the month in which the Abot (patriarchs) passed away. Rabbi Yehoshua maintained that the three Abot – Abraham, Yishak and Yaakob – died during the month of Nissan, whereas Rabbi Eliezer was of the opinion that they passed away during Tishri. However, a different source – the Yalkut Reubeni (in Parashat Lech-Lecha) – states that Abraham Abinu died during the month of Tebet. This is alluded to in G-d's promise to Abraham, "Tikaber Be'seba Toba" – that he would be buried at an advanced age (Bereshit 15:15). The first letters of these three words (Tav, Bet, Tet) are the three letters of the word "Tebet," and the word "Toba" resembles "Tebet." This is mentioned also in the work Seder Ha'dorot (Rav Yehiel Heilprin, 1660-1746). The obvious question arises as to how to reconcile this theory with the Gemara, which indicates that Abraham died either in Nissan or in Tishri. The Hida (Rav Haim Yosef David Azulai, 1724-1806) answers this question by citing a Kabbalistic source about the unique nature of the month of Nissan. The Torah designates Nissan as the first month of the year, and according to the teachings of Kabbalah, this month contains within it an element of all other months. Each of the first days of Nissan corresponds to a different month of the year. Rosh Hodesh Nissan is associated with Nissan itself, whereas the 2 nd of Nissan is associated with Iyar, the 3 rd is connected to Sivan, the 4 th to Tammuz, and so on. Accordingly, the sources that say that Abraham died in Tebet could be understood to mean that he died on the day of Nissan – following Rabbi Yehoshua's opinion – corresponding to the month of Tebet. As Tebet is the tenth month, this would mean that Abraham Abinu died on the 10 th of Nissan. As we know, the 10 th of Nissan is a very significant date – as it was on this day when, just before the Exodus from Egypt, Beneh Yisrael prepared the sheep for the Pesach sacrifice which they offered on the afternoon of the 14 th of Nissan (Shemot 12:3) in preparation for their departure from Egypt. Now in the year of the Exodus, the 15 th of Nissan – the day Beneh Yisrael left Egypt – fell on Thursday, such that the 10 th of Nissan fell on Shabbat. It emerges, then, that Shabbat Ha'gadol marks the Yahrtzeit of Abraham Abinu. On this basis, it has been explained why this Shabbat is given the name "Shabbat Ha'gadol." A verse in the Book of Yehoshua (14:15) speaks of a great man – "Ha'adam Ha'gadol Ba'anakim" – who lived in Hebron, and our Sages teach that this refers to Abraham Abinu. As he is the "Ha'adam Ha'gadol," the Shabbat before Pesach, which commemorates his Yahrtzeit, is called "Shabbat Ha'gadol."

The Mishna in Pirkeh Abot (3:16) teaches: "The shop is open, the shopkeeper gives on credit, the ledger is open, the hand writes, and whoever wishes to borrow may come and borrow." Meaning, G-d invited us to come and enjoy the blessings of the world, "on credit," even before we deserve them, though with the expectation that repay our "debt" through the performance of Misvot. The Megaleh Amukot (Rav Natan Neta Spira, Poland, 1584-1633) offers a deeper explanation of the Mishna's teaching, noting that the word "Hanut" ("shop") may be read as an acrostic for "Hodesh Nissan Ve'hodesh Tishri" – "the month of Nissan and the month of Tishri." During these two months in particular we are invited to "borrow," to receive great blessings from the Almighty that we do not necessarily deserve. These two months – Tishri, when we observe the Yamim Noraim, and Nissan, when we observe Pesach – are especially auspicious times when we are able to turn to Hashem in sincere prayer and have our wishes fulfilled. This connection between the months of Nissan and Tishri is discussed also by Rav Baruch of Medzhybizh (1753–1811), in explaining a verse in Parashat Bo ( 13:5) regarding the Pesach sacrifice: "Ve'abateta Et Ha'aboda Ha'zot Ba'hodesh Ha'zeh" – "You shall perform this service in this month." Rav Baruch explains that the word "Zot" ("this") refers to Yom Kippur, when the Kohen Gadol would perform the special Aboda (service) in the Bet Ha'mikdash, which the Torah describes with the word "Zot": "Be'zot Yabo Aharon El Ha'kodesh" ("With this shall Aharon enter the Sanctuary" – Vayikra 16:3). The word "Zeh" (the masculine form of "Zot"), Rav Baruch says, refers to the month of Nissan, of which G-d declared, "Ha'hodesh Ha'zeh Lachem Rosh Hodashim" – "This month is for you the first of the months" (Shemot 12:2). Hence, when the Torah tells us, "Ve'abateta Et Ha'aboda Ha'zot Ba'hodesh Ha'zeh," it means that we should perform the service of "Ha'zot" – of Yom Kippur – during "Ha'hodesh Ha'zeh" – the month of Nissan. Just as the period of the High Holidays is a time for repentance and spiritual growth, so is the month of Nissan. Rav Baruch adds that the difference between the words "Zot" and "Zeh" shows us the difference between the Teshuba (repentance) of Tishri and the Teshuba of Nissan. In Kabbalistic teaching, the feminine form is associated with passivity and timidness, whereas the masculine form connotes assertiveness. Tishri is referred to with the feminine form, "Zot," because this is a time of fear and intimidation, when we repent because we are being judged. Nissan, however, is a time for "Teshuba Me'ahaba" – repentance out of love. This is a joyous, vigorous Teshuba, when we seek to grow out of a sense of excitement and enthusiasm, out of deep love for Hashem and a desire to draw closer to Him. The Abneh Nezer (Rav Avraham Borenstein of Sochatchov, Poland, 1838-1910) writes that the days of Nissan are especially precious, and every hour during this month is as valuable as an entire day in a different month. This is a month in which we can achieve greatness, and it behooves to take full advantage of this opportunity, and utilize our time during Nissan for intensive Torah learning, prayer, and spiritual growth.

After describing in great detail the construction of the Mishkan and its furnishings, the Torah tells: "All the work for the Mishkan…was completed; Beneh Yisrael did in accordance with all that G-d had commanded Moshe; so did they do" (39:32). Rav Moshe Alshich (Safed, 1508-1593) observes that the sequence in this verse seems difficult. We would have expected the Torah to first tell us that Beneh Yisrael followed G-d's commands and built the Mishkan as He had instructed, and to then state that "the work…was completed." Instead, the Torah first writes that the work was completed, and then tells that Beneh Yisrael did as G-d had commanded them. Rav Moshe Alshich answers this question by postulating that in truth, the Mishkan was built miraculously. Beneh Yisrael, he explains, did not have the capabilities needed to complete such a large, complex project. However, when a person exerts maximum effort into the performance of a Misva, he is credited with the Misva's fulfillment regardless of the outcome. As long as a person does his best, he is credited with completing the job, even if the job was not actually completed. In the case of the Mishkan, then, the people were credited with building the Mishkan even though it was, in the end, built on its own, by Hashem. Since they exerted maximum effort in this undertaking, they are considered as though they actually built it – even though it was built by Hashem. The Alshich thus explains that the Torah first tells us, "All the work…was completed" – on its own, through Hashem's supernatural intervention. Nevertheless, "Beneh Yisrael did in accordance with all that G-d had commanded" – the people were credited with the fulfillment of Hashem's command to construct a Mishkan. The Alshich notes that the Torah here says that the people did not "Kol Asher Siva Hashem" – "all that G-d had commanded," but rather "Ke'chol Asher Siva Hashem," which could be read as, "similar to all that G-d had commanded." They did not actually perform what Hashem told them to do, because this was beyond their capabilities. But they were regarded as though they did, because they invested the greatest effort that they could, and therefore, "Ken Asu" – "so did they do," meaning, they were credited with the completion of the Mishkan. This insight denies us the ability to tell ourselves, "Why bother?" or "There's no point in even trying." Too often, people find Torah study and observance difficult, and so they just give up. They feel that since they can't do everything right, and since they've failed so many times, there's no point in trying. This is not true. The Torah was given to each and every one of us, with all our flaws and all our limitations, and we are each meant to do the best we can. We are not always going to succeed. We are going to make mistakes. We won't always get it right. But this reality does not in any way absolve us of the obligation to do the best we can, to make an effort to "build" the "Mishkan" within our beings. There is no excuse to stop trying. And the more we try, the more divine assistance we receive, and the greater success Hashem will grant us in all our spiritual endeavors.

Hashem commands in Parashat Ki-Tisa, "Ach Et Shabetotai Tishmoru" – "However, you shall observe my Shabbatot" (31:13). Rashi explains that after Hashem presented the commands regarding the construction of the Mishkan, He emphasized that the work on the Mishkan must be discontinued on Shabbat. The question arises, however, as to why Hashem here commands observing "Shabetotai" – His "Shabbatot." Instead of simply telling us to observe "Shabbat," He uses the plural form, referring to Shabbat as "Shabbatot." Why? A fascinating explanation is offered by the Ha'ketab Ve'ha'kabbala (Rav Yaakov Tzvi Mecklenberg, 1785-1865). He writes that etymologically, the word "Shabbat" has two meanings. First, it denotes "Shebita" – cessation from work. Additionally, the word "Shabbat" refers to "Yishub Ha'da'at" – peace of mind, and clarity. Ha'ketab Ve'ha'kabbala explains that we are commanded to "observe Shabbat" in two senses: by refraining from Melacha (forbidden activity), and by attaining "Yishub Ha'da'at" by experiencing he special Kedusha of Shabbat. The first Shabbat is intended to bring us to the second; we are to refrain from forbidden work for the purpose of reprogramming our minds, resetting our priorities, and refreshing our perspective on life. Throughout the week, we are busy tending to our needs, occupied with our careers, our businesses, and all the many other important things that we need to deal with. With all the frenzy of the workweek, we can so easily forget what this is all about, what the purpose of all this is. On Shabbat, there is an obligation of "Shebita" – to desist from Melacha – so that we can achieve "Yishub Ha'da'at," peace of mind, a clearer perspective on what life is all about, what our priorities ought to be. We spend more time in the synagogue, more time with our families, more time singing Pizmonim and learning Torah, so we can refresh our minds and remind ourselves of what's truly important. On this basis, Ha'ketab Ve'ha'kabbala suggests a novel reading of the Gemara's famous teaching (Shabbat 118b) that if the Jewish People would properly observe "Sheteh Shabbatot" – two Shabbatot – we would be worthy of redemption. This is commonly understood to mean that we would be redeemed if we all observe Shabbat for two weeks. Ha'ketab Ve'ha'kabbala, however, offers a different interpretation, explaining that the Gemara speaks of the two different dimensions of Shabbat observance. We become worthy of redemption if we not only refrain from the forbidden activities on Shabbat, but also experience the weekly "reset," gaining a new perspective on life by redirecting our focus onto spirituality and the service of Hashem. This concept might also shed light on a different teaching in the Gemara – that whoever enjoys delights on Shabbat, "the desires of his hearts are granted to him." At first glance, this means that by enjoying fine foods and delicacies on Shabbat, one guarantees that all his wishes are fulfilled. We might, however, understand this passage differently. If we observe Shabbat properly, then "Notenin Lo Mish'alot Libo" – he is given new wishes, new desires. Proper observance of Shabbat gives us a new perspective, and resets our priorities. Thus, if during the week our primary aspirations were about wealth and material luxuries, on Shabbat our aspirations are spiritual. Shabbat refreshes our perspective such that our primary goals are a greater connection with Hashem, more Torah knowledge, more Misvot, more religious engagement. The ultimate purpose of Shabbat is not the cessation of work itself – but rather the renewed perspective that this brings, which leads us to reset our priorities and redirect our focus onto that which really matters.

Numerous sources point to a connection between the celebration of Purim and the story of Yosef. For example, Rav Levi Yishak of Berditchev (1740-1809) taught that each of the twelve months corresponds to one of the twelve sons of Yaakob Abinu, and the month of Adar – the month when Purim is celebrated – corresponds to Yosef. And already the Gemara (Megilla 16a-b) draws an association between the Purim story and the story of Yosef, explaining that Yosef gave Binyamin five changes of clothing (Bereshit 45:22) as an allusion to Binyamin's descendant, Mordechai, who received five royal garments upon being appointed Ahashverosh's vizier (Ester 8:15). Another early source for this connection sheds light on one of the fundamental lessons of the Purim miracle. The Midrash comments that the Jews were deserving of annihilation because of the sin of Mechirat Yosef – the sale of Yosef as a slave by his brothers. Right after the brothers thew Yosef into a pit, they sat down to eat a meal ("Va'yeshbu Le'echol Lehem" – Bereshit 37:25). G-d responded very harshly, the Midrash states, warning that in the future, Haman and Ahashverosh would sit down together for a banquet immediately after condemning the Jews to death ("Ve'ha'melech Ve'Haman Yashebu Li'shtot" – Ester 3:15). Just as the brothers callously ate after acting to kill Yosef, so did Ahashverosh and Haman enjoy a feast after issuing the edict ordering the murder of all the Jews in the kingdom. It seems that the plague of jealousy and strife that led the brothers to eliminate Yosef was prevalent also during the time of the Purim story. Then, too, the Jews were not getting along with one another. They envied, resented, competed with and fought with one another, rather than working together in harmony despite their differences. This is why Ester, after hearing of Haman's edict, instructed Mordechai, "Lech Kenos Et Kol Ha'Yehudim" – to bring all the Jews together (Ester 4:16). She understood full well the reason for this harsh decree – the fraternal strife among the Jews. In order to earn salvation, the Jews would need to cure this ill through Ahdut, unity, by joining together with mutual love, respect and concern. This is also why Mordechai and Ester later established that the commemoration of the Purim miracle must include efforts to strengthen the bonds between Jews. The Misva of Mishloah Manot requires sending gifts, and the obligation of Matanot La'ebyonim requires lending assistance to the needy. Moreover, the Purim feast is traditionally eaten in large gatherings, with friends and families coming together in love and joy, thereby increasing the Ahdut among the Jewish People. The celebration of the Purim miracle must include a reenactment of "Lech Kenos Et Kol Ha'Yehudim" – of the Jews' efforts to create greater unity and a greater sense of togetherness. This might explain an otherwise perplexing aspect of the story of Yosef and his brothers. When the brothers arrived in Egypt with Binyamin, Yosef had a feast prepared for them, and the Torah tells, "Va'yishtu Va'yishkeru Imo" – Yosef and brothers drank and even became inebriated (43:34). Why was this an occasion for drinking? The answer might be found in the previous words – which tell that Yosef gave Binyamin five times the amount of food that he gave the other brothers. Despite this display of favoritism, the other brothers felt no jealousy toward Binyamin. They were not bothered by the fact that he received special treatment. Years earlier, they resented their father's preferential treatment toward Yosef, to the extent that they drove Yosef from the family, but they had now rectified this failing. They had reached the point where they felt no jealousy toward one another. This feast, then, laid the foundations for the story of Purim, when the Jews rectified the ill of baseless hatred and petty jealousy, resulting in their salvation which is celebrated through festive drinking. One of the central, overarching obligations on this day is to work to strengthen our Ahdut, the unity among the Jewish People. And our models for this process are Yosef's brothers, who learned from their mistake and grew to the point where they no longer harbored feelings of resentment and jealousy toward each other. We need to follow their example, and make the decision to look lovingly at our fellow Jews, to stop feeling jealous of those who seem to have more, to stop resenting those who do things differently than we do, to stop disliking people for silly reasons. Purim is the time to rise above the pettiness, the childishness and the competitiveness, to see the good in our fellow Jews instead of looking for reasons to look down at them. We will then be worthy of great miracles like those performed for our ancestors in Persia, Amen.

Parashat Teruma begins with G-d's command, "Ve'yikhu Li Teruma" – that Beneh Yisrael should donate materials toward the construction of the Mishkan. Surprisingly, Hashem here commands that the people donate toward this project with the word "Ve'yikhu," which means "They shall take." Instead of saying that the people should give, that they should donate, Hashem commands them to "take" a donation. This highlights a basic truism about charity – that by giving, we receive. When we give charity, when we donate toward a worthy cause, we receive far more than we give. We lose nothing, and we gain an incalculable amount. The merits earned through charitable donations are worth far more, and are infinitely more secure, than any financial asset. The rewards are both inestimable and guaranteed. But this understanding of the word "Ve'yikhu" actually runs even deeper. The Gemara in Masechet Kiddushin speaks of an exceptional case where a bride can be betrothed by giving, instead of receiving. The Halachic mechanism of Kiddushin, whereby a woman becomes formally betrothed to a man, requires the man to give the woman something of value. Of course, this is commonly done by giving the bride a ring. Normally, Kiddushin cannot be effectuated in the opposite manner, through the bride giving something to the groom. If the bride wishes to give the groom a gift, this must not be done as part of the Huppa ceremony, because it must be perfectly clear that the betrothal takes effect through the groom giving the ring to the bride. However, the Gemara establishes that if the groom is a distinguished person, such as a member of the royal court, then his bride can become betrothed to him through her giving him a gift. The reason, the Gemara explains, is that when an ordinary person gives a gift to a person of distinction, the giver derives great benefit by the recipient's acceptance of the gift. The satisfaction that comes from the distinguished person's consent to receive the gift outweighs the value of the gift. Therefore, if the groom is a man of distinction, the bride can become betrothed through the benefit she receives by the groom's acceptance of her gift, because by giving, the bride is actually receiving. This Halacha sheds new light on the command "Ve'yikhu Li Teruma." When we donate for a Misva purpose, we are, in essence, donating to Hashem, as it were. We are so-to-speak giving something to Hashem. Whether it's assisting a family in need, contributing to a charity fund, or supporting a synagogue of yeshiva, we are giving a gift to Hashem – who is, quite obviously, far more "distinguished" than any dignitary or prominent figure. And in this sense, we receive when we give. Anytime we have the opportunity to donate, we are given the privilege of giving a gift to Hashem. This is a privilege we should celebrate – and an opportunity that we should eagerly and enthusiastically seize as often as we can.

Parashat Teruma begins with G-d's command, "Ve'yikhu Li Teruma" – that Beneh Yisrael should donate materials toward the construction of the Mishkan. Surprisingly, Hashem here commands that the people donate toward this project with the word "Ve'yikhu," which means "They shall take." Instead of saying that the people should give, that they should donate, Hashem commands them to "take" a donation. This highlights a basic truism about charity – that by giving, we receive. When we give charity, when we donate toward a worthy cause, we receive far more than we give. We lose nothing, and we gain an incalculable amount. The merits earned through charitable donations are worth far more, and are infinitely more secure, than any financial asset. The rewards are both inestimable and guaranteed. But this understanding of the word "Ve'yikhu" actually runs even deeper. The Gemara in Masechet Kiddushin speaks of an exceptional case where a bride can be betrothed by giving, instead of receiving. The Halachic mechanism of Kiddushin, whereby a woman becomes formally betrothed to a man, requires the man to give the woman something of value. Of course, this is commonly done by giving the bride a ring. Normally, Kiddushin cannot be effectuated in the opposite manner, through the bride giving something to the groom. If the bride wishes to give the groom a gift, this must not be done as part of the Huppa ceremony, because it must be perfectly clear that the betrothal takes effect through the groom giving the ring to the bride. However, the Gemara establishes that if the groom is a distinguished person, such as a member of the royal court, then his bride can become betrothed to him through her giving him a gift. The reason, the Gemara explains, is that when an ordinary person gives a gift to a person of distinction, the giver derives great benefit by the recipient's acceptance of the gift. The satisfaction that comes from the distinguished person's consent to receive the gift outweighs the value of the gift. Therefore, if the groom is a man of distinction, the bride can become betrothed through the benefit she receives by the groom's acceptance of her gift, because by giving, the bride is actually receiving. This Halacha sheds new light on the command "Ve'yikhu Li Teruma." When we donate for a Misva purpose, we are, in essence, donating to Hashem, as it were. We are so-to-speak giving something to Hashem. Whether it's assisting a family in need, contributing to a charity fund, or supporting a synagogue of yeshiva, we are giving a gift to Hashem – who is, quite obviously, far more "distinguished" than any dignitary or prominent figure. And in this sense, we receive when we give. Anytime we have the opportunity to donate, we are given the privilege of giving a gift to Hashem. This is a privilege we should celebrate – and an opportunity that we should eagerly and enthusiastically seize as often as we can.

Parashat Mishpatim is well known for its presentation of a series of civil laws. These laws govern interpersonal relations, mainly matters related to conflicts over money or property. Speaking to Moshe, Hashem introduces this series of laws by saying, "Ve'eleh Ha'mishpatim Asher Tasim Lifnehem" – "And these are the statutes that you shall place before them." Rashi, citing the Gemara, comments that the word "Lifnehem" ("before them") implies "Lifnehem Ve'lo Lifneh Goyim" – these laws were to be presented specifically to Beneh Yisrael, and not to other peoples. Of course, we know that all the Torah's laws were given specifically to Beneh Yisrael, and not to the other nations. It seems that Rashi seeks to emphasize the fundamental difference between the Torah's system of civil law and that of the other nations. Although all civilized societies devise and implement an effective judicial system, there is something distinct about our system of law, and this is the implication of the word "Lifnehem" – that the special code of law presented in this Parasha is unique to the Jewish People. Among the unique features of the Torah legal system is the standardization and uniformity of its penal code. In other systems, the judge is authorized to determine the punishment for a convicted offender, and to take into account the offender's condition and the circumstances surrounding his crime. Thus, for example, if an impoverished man who had been out of work for years was caught stealing, the judge will issue a much lighter sentence than he would if a multimillionaire stole the same amount. When a person commits an offense, there might be mitigating circumstances that lessen its severity, or circumstances that make the act especially cruel. Most legal systems empower the judge to take all these factors into account when deciding the appropriate punishment. The Torah, however, establishes punishments that must be administered equally to all people convicted of the given crime. The financial condition of neither the perpetrator nor the victim affects the sentencing. The punishments assigned by the Torah for particular crimes are applied without considering the broader context of the act. The reason is that no human being can truly determine the severity of another person's behavior. Even if we know the background, the context, and the circumstances surrounding the incident, there is so much more that we do not know. We will never know what kind of pressures and lures contributed to an offender's decision to commit the act, nor can we know the full scope of a criminal's malicious intent. Only Hashem can determine the true extent of a crime, and the precise punishment that the offender deserves. For this reason, the verse says in Tehillim (82:1), "Elokim Nisav Ba'adat Kel, Be'kereb Elohim Yishpot" – Hashem is present in the courtroom when the judges try a case. Hashem is present because He is needed to determine what the judges are incapable of determining. The Torah establishes guidelines for the judges to follow, but we know that their decision will not necessarily result in the defendant receiving precisely what he deserves. Hashem's presence assures that He will make this happen, that He will do what the judges cannot do, that after the judges rule in accordance with Torah law, Hashem will see to it that justice is flawlessly and perfectly served. We must always remember how limited our vision and knowledge are, how little we know about other people. We might think we have the "whole story," but the truth is that we always know a very small part of the story. It is therefore foolish – not to mention unproductive – to cast judgment and reach conclusions about other people's conduct. This should be left to G-d, while we devote our attention to our own behavior, constantly striving to grow and improve.

Parashat Mishpatim is well known for its presentation of a series of civil laws. These laws govern interpersonal relations, mainly matters related to conflicts over money or property. Speaking to Moshe, Hashem introduces this series of laws by saying, "Ve'eleh Ha'mishpatim Asher Tasim Lifnehem" – "And these are the statutes that you shall place before them." Rashi, citing the Gemara, comments that the word "Lifnehem" ("before them") implies "Lifnehem Ve'lo Lifneh Goyim" – these laws were to be presented specifically to Beneh Yisrael, and not to other peoples. Of course, we know that all the Torah's laws were given specifically to Beneh Yisrael, and not to the other nations. It seems that Rashi seeks to emphasize the fundamental difference between the Torah's system of civil law and that of the other nations. Although all civilized societies devise and implement an effective judicial system, there is something distinct about our system of law, and this is the implication of the word "Lifnehem" – that the special code of law presented in this Parasha is unique to the Jewish People. Among the unique features of the Torah legal system is the standardization and uniformity of its penal code. In other systems, the judge is authorized to determine the punishment for a convicted offender, and to take into account the offender's condition and the circumstances surrounding his crime. Thus, for example, if an impoverished man who had been out of work for years was caught stealing, the judge will issue a much lighter sentence than he would if a multimillionaire stole the same amount. When a person commits an offense, there might be mitigating circumstances that lessen its severity, or circumstances that make the act especially cruel. Most legal systems empower the judge to take all these factors into account when deciding the appropriate punishment. The Torah, however, establishes punishments that must be administered equally to all people convicted of the given crime. The financial condition of neither the perpetrator nor the victim affects the sentencing. The punishments assigned by the Torah for particular crimes are applied without considering the broader context of the act. The reason is that no human being can truly determine the severity of another person's behavior. Even if we know the background, the context, and the circumstances surrounding the incident, there is so much more that we do not know. We will never know what kind of pressures and lures contributed to an offender's decision to commit the act, nor can we know the full scope of a criminal's malicious intent. Only Hashem can determine the true extent of a crime, and the precise punishment that the offender deserves. For this reason, the verse says in Tehillim (82:1), "Elokim Nisav Ba'adat Kel, Be'kereb Elohim Yishpot" – Hashem is present in the courtroom when the judges try a case. Hashem is present because He is needed to determine what the judges are incapable of determining. The Torah establishes guidelines for the judges to follow, but we know that their decision will not necessarily result in the defendant receiving precisely what he deserves. Hashem's presence assures that He will make this happen, that He will do what the judges cannot do, that after the judges rule in accordance with Torah law, Hashem will see to it that justice is flawlessly and perfectly served. We must always remember how limited our vision and knowledge are, how little we know about other people. We might think we have the "whole story," but the truth is that we always know a very small part of the story. It is therefore foolish – not to mention unproductive – to cast judgment and reach conclusions about other people's conduct. This should be left to G-d, while we devote our attention to our own behavior, constantly striving to grow and improve.

Mishpatim | The Beloved Wife of the "Nirtza", by Rav Yitzchak Etshalom Parashat Mishpatim opens up with legislation regarding the "Hebrew slave", who is really more of an indentured servant. In this passage, the master may "assign" a woman to the servant, but when his six-year term of servitude is complete, he leaves her when he goes free. If he chooses to stay due to his love for his master - and his wife and their children - he may refuse to leave, have his ear publicly pierced and remain a slave "forever". The Halakha understands that "forever" means until the Yovel - but where does that leave the wife and children that the slave loves so dearly? Inspired by Rashbam's broad approach to exegesis, we examine all three passages about the עבד עברי - here, in ויקרא and in דברים - and identify the distinct circumstances that inform them and propose a distinction between the passage in our Parasha and that in דברים to help resolve some of the difficulties in these פרשיות. Source sheet >>

The opening verses of Parashat Yitro tell of Yitro's arrival at Beneh Yisrael's camp. Yitro, Moshe's father-in-law, had been a pagan priest, but then recognized the truth of monotheism. He now took the next step, and joined Beneh Yisrael as they encamped at the foot of Mount Sinai. Rashi comments that Yitro was motivated to join the nation upon hearing of two events: Keri'at Yam Suf (the splitting of the sea), and the war against Amalek. It seems difficult to understand why the war with Amalek contributed to Yitro's decision. The splitting of the sea was, of course, an extraordinary miracle, an event that was heard throughout the ancient world and led all the nations to look at Beneh Yisrael with awe. It is understandable that this miracle inspired Yitro to come and join Beneh Yisrael. But how did the war against Amalek have this kind of effect? What about this event inspired Yitro? One answer is that Yitro was struck by the drastic decline that Beneh Yisrael experienced from the event of Keri'at Yan Suf to the war against Amalek. The Sages teach that at the time of Keri'a Yam Suf, every member of the nation, even the most unlearned among them, reached a certain level of prophecy. The nation at that moment rose to the greatest heights. Just several weeks later, however, when they found themselves without water, their faith was shaken, and they started asking, "Is G-d in our midst or not?" (Shemot 17:7). It was in response to this lack of faith that Hashem led Amalek to attack Beneh Yisrael. Yitro saw how the people so quickly fell from the stature of prophets to the point where they could actually question whether Hashem was with them. This rapid decline is what prompted Yitro to join Beneh Yisrael. The Gemara teaches that Torah is the "antidote" to the Yeser Ha'ra (evil inclination). Sinful tendencies are part of the human condition; as long as a person is alive, he is going to tempted by some lure, by some human weakness, by one or several of the many negative traits with which people are created. And in order to withstand these inclinations, we need to immerse ourselves in Torah. Therefore, when Yitro saw how fast people are capable of falling, he made the decision to join Beneh Yisrael, so he can access the Torah, the "antidote" to the Yeser Ha'ra and protect himself from spiritual decline. Rav Yosef Salant (Jerusalem, 1885-1981) offers a different explanation of Rashi's comment. He writes that after the miracle of the sea, many people throughout the world attributed this event to Moshe Rabbenu. Rather than recognize the existence of a single, omnipotent Creator, they instead concluded that Moshe was a superior sorcerer who succeeded in defeating the Egyptians through his magical prowess. Yitro, who was well-versed in all the various forms of ancient paganism, including sorcery, likewise suspected that it was Moshe who split the sea by lifting his staff over the water. Beneh Yisrael's miraculous victory against Amalek, however, was clearly not brought about by Moshe. At the time of the battle, Moshe stood at a distance, on a hill overlooking the battlefield. And when the people looked heavenward, they received Hashem's assistance and defeated the Amalekites. This event showed that the splitting of the sea was wrought not by Moshe, but by an all-powerful G-d, and this motivated Yitro to come join Beneh Yisrael. There might also be a third interpretation. In the Book of Debarim (25:18), Moshe describes Amalek's attack with the word "Karecha." The Sages explained this term as a derivative of the word "Kar" – "cool." After the miracle of the sea, Beneh Yisrael were feared throughout the world. The Rabbis drew a comparison to a tub filled with scalding hot water, that nobody dared touch. When Amalek launched their attack, they were like a person who jumped into the tub of boiling hot water – he suffered bad burns, but cooled the water for anyone else who wished to bathe afterward. Amalek was defeated, but this battle had the effect of "cooling" Beneh Yisrael, of exposing their vulnerability. Beneh Yisrael now appeared far less fearsome, and no longer seemed invincible. Yitro saw the grave Hillul Hashem – defamation of Hashem's Name – caused by Amalek's attack. The awe and admiration that the world felt toward Beneh Yisrael after the splitting of the sea were now gone. And Yitro understood that the only way to rectify a Hillul Hashem is by creating a Kiddush Hashem – a glorification of Hashem's Name. He therefore decided to join Beneh Yisrael. As a respected and wealthy public figure, his arrival would "make the news," and become widely known. People all over would hear that a prominent former pagan cleric had recognized the truth of the Jewish faith and decided to join Beneh Yisrael's ranks. This would repair, at least somewhat, the damage caused by Amalek's attack. And thus Yitro's decision was driven by these two events – the splitting of the sea and Amalek's attack, as he sought to restore the respect for Beneh Yisrael that was achieved by the miracle of Keri'at Yam Suf.

The opening verses of Parashat Yitro tell of Yitro's arrival at Beneh Yisrael's camp. Yitro, Moshe's father-in-law, had been a pagan priest, but then recognized the truth of monotheism. He now took the next step, and joined Beneh Yisrael as they encamped at the foot of Mount Sinai. Rashi comments that Yitro was motivated to join the nation upon hearing of two events: Keri'at Yam Suf (the splitting of the sea), and the war against Amalek. It seems difficult to understand why the war with Amalek contributed to Yitro's decision. The splitting of the sea was, of course, an extraordinary miracle, an event that was heard throughout the ancient world and led all the nations to look at Beneh Yisrael with awe. It is understandable that this miracle inspired Yitro to come and join Beneh Yisrael. But how did the war against Amalek have this kind of effect? What about this event inspired Yitro? One answer is that Yitro was struck by the drastic decline that Beneh Yisrael experienced from the event of Keri'at Yan Suf to the war against Amalek. The Sages teach that at the time of Keri'a Yam Suf, every member of the nation, even the most unlearned among them, reached a certain level of prophecy. The nation at that moment rose to the greatest heights. Just several weeks later, however, when they found themselves without water, their faith was shaken, and they started asking, "Is G-d in our midst or not?" (Shemot 17:7). It was in response to this lack of faith that Hashem led Amalek to attack Beneh Yisrael. Yitro saw how the people so quickly fell from the stature of prophets to the point where they could actually question whether Hashem was with them. This rapid decline is what prompted Yitro to join Beneh Yisrael. The Gemara teaches that Torah is the "antidote" to the Yeser Ha'ra (evil inclination). Sinful tendencies are part of the human condition; as long as a person is alive, he is going to tempted by some lure, by some human weakness, by one or several of the many negative traits with which people are created. And in order to withstand these inclinations, we need to immerse ourselves in Torah. Therefore, when Yitro saw how fast people are capable of falling, he made the decision to join Beneh Yisrael, so he can access the Torah, the "antidote" to the Yeser Ha'ra and protect himself from spiritual decline. Rav Yosef Salant (Jerusalem, 1885-1981) offers a different explanation of Rashi's comment. He writes that after the miracle of the sea, many people throughout the world attributed this event to Moshe Rabbenu. Rather than recognize the existence of a single, omnipotent Creator, they instead concluded that Moshe was a superior sorcerer who succeeded in defeating the Egyptians through his magical prowess. Yitro, who was well-versed in all the various forms of ancient paganism, including sorcery, likewise suspected that it was Moshe who split the sea by lifting his staff over the water. Beneh Yisrael's miraculous victory against Amalek, however, was clearly not brought about by Moshe. At the time of the battle, Moshe stood at a distance, on a hill overlooking the battlefield. And when the people looked heavenward, they received Hashem's assistance and defeated the Amalekites. This event showed that the splitting of the sea was wrought not by Moshe, but by an all-powerful G-d, and this motivated Yitro to come join Beneh Yisrael. There might also be a third interpretation. In the Book of Debarim (25:18), Moshe describes Amalek's attack with the word "Karecha." The Sages explained this term as a derivative of the word "Kar" – "cool." After the miracle of the sea, Beneh Yisrael were feared throughout the world. The Rabbis drew a comparison to a tub filled with scalding hot water, that nobody dared touch. When Amalek launched their attack, they were like a person who jumped into the tub of boiling hot water – he suffered bad burns, but cooled the water for anyone else who wished to bathe afterward. Amalek was defeated, but this battle had the effect of "cooling" Beneh Yisrael, of exposing their vulnerability. Beneh Yisrael now appeared far less fearsome, and no longer seemed invincible. Yitro saw the grave Hillul Hashem – defamation of Hashem's Name – caused by Amalek's attack. The awe and admiration that the world felt toward Beneh Yisrael after the splitting of the sea were now gone. And Yitro understood that the only way to rectify a Hillul Hashem is by creating a Kiddush Hashem – a glorification of Hashem's Name. He therefore decided to join Beneh Yisrael. As a respected and wealthy public figure, his arrival would "make the news," and become widely known. People all over would hear that a prominent former pagan cleric had recognized the truth of the Jewish faith and decided to join Beneh Yisrael's ranks. This would repair, at least somewhat, the damage caused by Amalek's attack. And thus Yitro's decision was driven by these two events – the splitting of the sea and Amalek's attack, as he sought to restore the respect for Beneh Yisrael that was achieved by the miracle of Keri'at Yam Suf.