Podcasts about parasha

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.

With Parasha Mishpatim we move from being hearers of G-d's Word to being doers. Listen to Rabbi David's Shabbat sermon based out of Parasha Mishpatim at Congregation Mayim Chayim.

Para onde você olha quando reza? Para cima, para os céus? Isso é o mais correto? Já conhece a frase: de loucos, todos nós temos um pouco ? Conheça a piada que nos mostra isso kkkk. Que você tenha um final de semana iluminado com Shalom e colocando em pratica no dia a dia o que conversamos aqui ok

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 begins with the law of the עבד עברי . This refers to someone who, due to financial straits, resorted to theft, and was caught, but could not repay his victim. In order to obtain the money he needed, he would sell himself as a servant. After six years, his master was required to release him. If, however, the servant preferred staying with his master, he was allowed to do so, but only after the master pierced his ear as a sign of his servitude. Rashi explains that the servant's ear would be pierced as a punishment. His ear heard Hashem proclaim at Mount Sinai, עבדי הם – that the Jewish People are Hashem's servants, and not the servants of their fellow human beings. This servant was now betraying this pronouncement, and so his ear would be pierced. Many Rabbis addressed the question of why the servant's ear would be pierced only at that point, when he chose to remain with his master, and not right when he was caught stealing. After all, at Mount Sinai we heard the command of לא תגנוב , that it is forbidden to steal, and he violated this command. Why, then, was the ear pierced for transgressing עבדי הם but not for transgressing לא תגנוב ? The answer is that ear doesn't represent simply obedience and compliance. It symbolizes something deeper – the "listening" to understand and internalize what was being said. The עבד עברי understood that it is forbidden to steal. He stole out of desperation, not because he thought it was moral. But when he chose to remain in his master's service, he showed a lack of understanding of what עבדי הם means. The servant decided to remain with his master because he looked to his master as the one responsible for his rehabilitation, for his recovery, for his getting back on his feet – thus losing sight of Hashem. Of course, he owed a debt of gratitude to his master who took him in, treated him well, and helped him regain his footing. But he made the mistake of feeling dependent entirely on the master, feeling that he needed to continue this arrangement and couldn't live without it. He forgot that עבדי הם , that even the master was just a human, a servant of Hashem, that Hashem controls everything, that we are dependent on Him and on nobody else. This is a mistake that we must ensure to avoid. We must not become fully dependent on any human being, to the point where we feel we cannot manage without that person. Not on an employer, not on a client, not on a customer, not on a friend, and not even on a Rabbi. Perhaps most of all, we must not feel fully dependent on any political figure. Every human being is just a human being, and thus is, by definition, limited and flawed. Only Hashem is perfect, and only Hashem has complete power and control. And just as we cannot place our trust in any other human being, neither can we feel fully confident in ourselves and our own abilities. Toward the end of our parashah , we read of our ancestors' famous proclamation at Mount Sinai, נעשה ונשמע – "We will do and we will hear." This might mean that they committed to hearing the "sound" that goes forth from Mount Sinai to this very day. The Torah (Devarim 5:18) says about the sound of Matan Torah , קול גדול ולא יסף – it was a great sound that never ended. Rashi explains that since the day the Torah was given, Hashem is calling to us from Mount Sinai, as it were, continuing to command us to observe the Torah. נעשה ונשמע might be understood to mean that even when נעשה , when we are acting and doing, as we go about our affairs, נשמע – we will continue to hear the sound of Sinai, we will be aware of the message of Matan Torah , that everything depends on Hashem and not on our own efforts. The עבד עברי failed to hear this sound, and so he pinned all his hopes for his future and his success on his master. We must ensure never to make this mistake, to always hear this sound, and never place too must trust in any human being, including ourselves.

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 >>

In this week's episode Rabbi Kohn discusses how the Torah's commandments on civil laws and specifically the laws regarding damages are not just about financial compensation. He points out how the Torah sets up a system where we can learn to be more caring people by being careful with the property of others. He also speaks about the prohibition of causing pain to a widow and orphan and how that can take differet forms. 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/   Chapters (00:00:00) - Rabbi Shlomo Cohen(00:01:07) - Parsha's Mishpatim(00:02:35) - Parsha 3, Civil Law(00:04:45) - Parasha 5, Damages in the Torah(00:11:37) - Be sensitive to widows and orphans(00:16:14) - The Mitzvos of the Pilgrimages

Covenant is not earned by obedience; obedience flows from a covenant freely given. Listen to Rabbi David's Shabbat sermon based out of Parasha Yitro at Congregation Mayim Chayim.

Parasha Jithro. Centraal staat de vraag: wat betekent de goede raad van Jethro, de schoonvader van Mozes? We onderzoeken de ontmoeting tussen Mozes en zijn schoonvader Jethro, de priester-koning van Midian.Jethro, een directe afstammeling van Abraham, voegt zich bij Mozes in de woestijn nadat hij heeft gehoord over de wonderbaarlijke bevrijding uit de Egyptische slavernij. Hij ziet hoe Mozes van de morgen tot de avond alleen rechtspreekt over het volk, een taak waaronder zowel de leider als het volk dreigen te bezwijken.In dit leerhuis ontdekken we dat Jethro's advies om taken te delegeren verder gaat dan louter organisatieleer; het draait om het aanbrengen van structuur en 'maat' (Midah) in de wereld. Deze ordening is essentieel voor het herstellen van de harmonie (Shalom) en vertoont diepe parallellen met de scheppingsorde. We zien hoe rechtspraak helpt om tegenstellingen op te heffen, zodat het volk in vrede voor God kan staan.Exod. 18:1-20:23 / Jes.6:1–7:6, 9:5–6(7)Support the show

Como se considera em relação as mudanças, é cauteloso ou age rápido? Você é consegue citar 3 coisas que conseguiu mudar em você mesmo? Me conta quais foram? A crítica e a sugestão devem andar juntas? Esse Divrei é em elevação da alma de nossa mãe Ettel Bat Ester, que foi uma mulher de ação, que se transformou e mudou o mundo a sua volta. Ouça o Divrei

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.

Parashat Yitro begins by telling us that Yitro, Moshe's father-in-law, came to join Beneh Yisrael at Mount Sinai. Yitro converted and became a full-fledged Jew. Rashi makes a famous comment explaining what drove Yitro to make this decision to join Beneh Yisrael . He writes that Yitro heard about two events – keri'at Yam Suf (the splitting of the sea) and the war against Amalek. What is it about these particular events that inspired Yitro? After the miracle of the sea, the people sang the שירת הים , the song of praise to Hashem that we include in our morning prayers each day. This song includes a description of how the entire world heard about the miracle and was overcome by fear of Beneh Yisrael . שמעו עמים ירגזון – all the nations heard and were frightened. Yitro was struck by the fact that just several weeks later, Amalek came along and launched an attack on Beneh Yisrael , the nation that they were terrified of. Amalek's attack showed Yitro how quickly people can change, how people can be so inspired and motivated to do the right thing, and then just a few weeks later do just the opposite. This led Yitro to decide to join Beneh Yisrael so he would be together with good people whose influence would keep him on the right path. The Gemara in Masechet Zevahim brings a second opinion as to what led Yitro to join Beneh Yisrael . This opinion says that Yitro came to Mount Sinai after Matan Torah , as it was this event – Hashem giving Beneh Yisrael the Torah – that inspired him. According to this opinion, Yitro was struck by the opposite phenomenon – by how people can grow so quickly. When Beneh Yisrael were slaves in Egypt, they had fallen to the lowest spiritual depths. And then, just seven weeks later, they were at the level where they could behold Hashem's revelation and receive the Torah. Yitro wanted to be part of a people that could undergo this kind of process of spiritual growth. Both opinions are rooted in reality – people have the capacity to change quickly and drastically, in both directions. Never has this been as true as in today's day and age. Technology exposes people to the worst and the best that humanity has to offer. A person can be pulled down to the lowest depths by what he sees, reads and watches online. But he can also grow. I have heard many stories of people who became religiously observant after being inspired by Torah material accessed online. This reality accounts for the diversity that we see in our community, even within families. So many families today have members on drastically different levels of observance. This is because today, more than ever, it is so easy to change in every which direction. In one of the most famous passages in Rashi's commentary to the Humash, he observes that the Torah in our parashah speaks of Beneh Yisrael encamping at Mount Sinai in the singular form – ויחן שם ישראל (19:2). Instead of saying, "They encamped" ( ויחנו ), the Torah says, ויחן , as though speaking of one person. Rashi explains that the people came to Mount Sinai כאיש בלב אחד – "as one person, with one heart." In order to receive the Torah, they needed to be unified and together. The diversity in our community challenges us to find unity despite our differences. Nobody should feel the need to change who he is or how he lives for the sake of family members or other people in the community who are very different from him. At the same time, however, we must find a way to make it work, a way to be together כאיש אחד בלב אחד , to care for, love and respect others even though they are drastically different than us. Each of us is on a journey, and no two people's journeys are identical. When we realize this, we will find it easier to relate to and connect with people who are different – because we will see that we really aren't that different, as we're all on a journey of discovering who we want to be and determining how we want to live. Let us each commit firmly to adhere to our beliefs, values and principles, without compromising at all, while committing also to love and respect those who are different, so we become a strong, unified nation that is worthy of the Torah and of Hashem's ongoing presence.

We were blessed to have one of our members bring the message for Shabbat on 1/31/26. Listen to Carlos Mendoza share the Shabbat message based out of Parasha Beshalach at CMC.

Parasha BeshalachDe lezingen van parshat Beshalach zijn Exodus 13:17-17:16 en Richteren 4:4–5:31. We focussen in het bijzonder op het gedeelte van Exodus 15:27-16:10. In dit gedeelte kunnen de Israëlieten zichzelf verfrissen bij de waterbronnen van Elim. Maar even later raakt het brood op, dat zij uit Egypte hadden meegenomen. Blijven zij vertrouwen op God of niet? Wat heeft dit met de avond en de morgen te maken? En welke lessen kunnen wij hieruit leren voor onze levens?Support the show

REM-SS85-08 The Torah tells that as Beneh Yisrael stood at the shores of the sea, and they saw the Egyptian army pursuing them, they cried out to G-d – "Va'yis'aku Beneh Yisrael El Hashem" (14:10). Rashi comments: "Tafesu Umanut Abotam" – "They took hold of their forefathers' craft." Meaning, Beneh Yisrael here followed the example set for them by the patriarchs, who likewise prayed to G-d. Rashi then proceeds to cite verses from the Book of Bereshit showing that the three patriarchs – Abraham, Yishak and Yaakob – prayed. When reading Rashi's brief remark, we must wonder what point he wishes to make, which difficulty in the text he is trying to resolve. Why must we be informed that Beneh Yisrael's prayers at the shores of the sea followed the patriarchs' example? How does this enhance our understanding of the text? Probing a bit deeper, Rashi's comments become even more perplexing. As mentioned, Rashi cites verses that speak of the patriarchs praying. Surprisingly, however, Rashi specifically does not cite the more obvious sources of the patriarchs' prayers. Instead of pointing to Abraham's prayer on behalf of the city of Sedom, Rashi instead brings the verse that tells of Abraham returning the next day to the spot where he had prayed for Sedom (Bereshit 19:27). Instead of noting Yishak's prayer for a child, Rashi instead cites the Torah's vague description of Yishak "conversing" in the field (Bereshit 24:63), which the Sages interpret as a reference to prayer. And instead of mentioning Yaakob's plea for help when Esav was approaching with an army, Rashi brings the verse that tells of Yaakob's evening "encounter" ("Va'yifga" – 28:11), which is understood to mean that he prayed. Why did Rashi not cite the clearest references to the patriarchs' prayers? More generally, why did Rashi need to bring textual proof to the fact that our righteous Abot (patriarchs) prayed? Do we not already know this? The Lubavitcher Rebbe (Rav Menachem Mendel Schneerson, 1902-1994) answered all these questions by establishing that Beneh Yisrael's cries were not actual cries for help. We must remember that these events transpired after G-d had brought the powerful Egyptian Empire to its knees with ten miraculous plagues, after Moshe had informed the people that G-d was bringing them to their homeland, and after they had taken the Egyptians' possessions with them to bring to the Holy Land. They knew that G-d would help them and save them from the pursuing Egyptian army. They did not have a doubt. (Although the Torah relates that the people turned to Moshe in panic, asking why he had taken them out of Egypt to perish, Rashi explains that this was a different group than the group who responded by praying.) They had complete faith in G-d. This was the point that Rashi wished to clarify – that the people prayed even though they were confident that they would be saved. These prayers were not a prayer for help, for rather "Umanut Abotam" – the "craft" taught to them by their forebears. A person with a profession goes to work every day. He doesn't show up only when he runs out of money; he knows that he needs to tend to his profession consistently. The same is true of our connection to Hashem. We cannot build this connection only by turning to him when we face some kind of problem. We need to practice the "craft," or "profession," of prayer each and every day, even when we have no particular, pressing issue that concerns us. This is what Rashi is teaching us. Beneh Yisrael turned to Hashem in prayer not because they were frightened, but rather because prayer was an "Umanut" – a "profession," something that they knew they must consistently do. And they learned this "profession" from the patriarchs. Abraham prayed even after Sedom was destroyed, when he could no longer save the city. Yishak prayed in the field regularly. And Yaakob prayed before going to sleep. These weren't prayers for help, but rather part of the Abot's ongoing, persistent efforts to build their relationship with Hashem. This is the "profession" that they taught us, and that we must follow. The Lubavitcher Rebbe applied this idea to the Misva of Torah study. This obligation is not limited to practical knowledge. It goes without saying that in order to practice Judaism properly, we must learn and familiarize ourselves with Halacha, and practical Halacha must certainly take priority in our Torah curricula. However, this is not the sole objective of Torah study. We are required to learn as much as we can even about subjects that are not practically applicable. Torah learning is not only about knowledge, but also about our connection to Hashem who gave us the Torah. When we pray and learn Torah not only in moments of need, but with constancy and devotion, we cultivate a living, daily bond with Hashem – and this is the lifelong, sacred "profession" which we've inherited from our righteous forebears.

In this week's episode Rabbi Kohn discusses a lesson on how we become empathatic people. From the actions of Moshe we can learn how to develop this powerful trait. He also teaches a beautiful lesson on how the mitzvah of Shabbos can help us our lives without the anxiety of earning a livelehood. He also relates anspirational story from a podcast listener. 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/  If you would like to support this podcast please use this secure link to donate: SUPPORT THE PODCAST  Chapters (00:00:00) - A Note from a Listener to The Practical Parsha Podcast(00:05:45) - Parasha 6, The Jewish People's 40 Years in the Desert(00:08:53) - The Torah's Mitzvah Regarding Shabbos(00:13:44) - How to Make a Living(00:18:36) - The Power of Empathy in the Battle Against Amalek(00:25:24) - The Svasamez and Empathetic Jews

Two of the fundamental tenets of Judaism are known by the terms emunah (faith, or belief) and bitahon (trust). Much has been written about the precise meanings of these two words, and the difference between them. For our purposes, it suffices to say that the story we read in the Torah over the last two weeks – the story of the ten plagues and Yetziat Mitzrayim – establishes the tenet of emunah , and the story told in this week's parashah – the splitting of the sea – establishes the tenet of bitahon . The miraculous plagues in Egypt showed Hashem's exclusive and unlimited control over the universe. It demonstrated that He governs the world without any constraints, without any other force being able to stop Him, and that He is constantly involved. This is emunah – the core belief in Hashem as the Creator who exerts unlimited control over the earth. At the sea, Beneh Yisrael were taught about bitahon – living with the trust that Hashem can solve problems that appear to have no solution. Emunah is the theoretical belief in Hashem's power, and bitahon is the practical application of that belief, remaining calm and composed during difficult situations, trusting that Hashem is handling it for us. Let us take a closer look at what happened at the shores of the Yam Suf to learn what living with bitahon means. When Beneh Yisrael saw the Egyptians chasing after them, and they realized that they were trapped against the sea, ויצעקו בני ישראל אל ה' – they cried out to Hashem (14:10). Rashi comments that this was the proper response, that Benei Yisrael were following the example of the avot (patriarchs), who likewise cried to Hashem during times of crisis. But then Moshe Rabbenu turned to them and said, ה' ילחם לכם ואתם תחרישון – that they should remain silent while Hashem handles this for them (14:14). After that, Hashem told Moshe to tell the people ויסעו – to move forward into the sea (14:15). This is the prescription for us during times of hardship. First, ויצעקו – we should cry out. It is ok to feel upset, to feel anxious, to feel frustrated, to feel pained. We are supposed to feel these emotions, and not to try to suppress them. And it's ok to cry – certainly to Hashem, but also to those whom we feel comfortable sharing our feelings with, or with a therapist if need be. At a certain point, however, תחרישון – we have to stop crying out, recognizing that ה' ילחם לכם – Hashem is handling this crisis for us, that we are in His hands. We need to stay calm and place our trust in Hashem. And then, most importantly, ויסעו – we need to move forward. No matter what we're dealing with, we can't just give up, wallowing in our bitterness and resentment. We need to go forward and do the best we can under the circumstances Hashem put us in. Three days after Beneh Yisrael crossed the sea, they arrived in a place where they found a water source, but they could not drink the water כי מרים הם – "because they were bitter," and so they called the place מרה – "bitter" (15:23). The Rebbe of Kotzk suggested a fascinating reading of this pasuk . He explained that it wasn't the waters that were bitter, but rather the people. When people are "bitter," when they are angry and resentful, they can never quench their thirst, they can never find satisfaction, because everything they "taste" is bitter. We are all going to experience things that make us upset and get us down. But bitterness never helped anyone. The only way we help ourselves when things happen is ויסעו – by moving forward with the faith that Hashem is handling the problem. We have to move on, doing the best we can, and trust that Hashem will do the rest.

The enemy tries to snuff out our future, God told us to teach it — the battle is l'dor vador. Listen to Rabbi David's Shabbat sermon based out of Parasha Bo at Congregation Mayim Chayim.

 Parasha BoExodus 10:1-13:16 / Jeremia 46:13-28 / 1 Korinthe 11:17-34Daarna zei de HEERE tegen Mozes: Ga naar de farao toe, want Ík heb zijn hart en het hart van zijn dienaren onvermurwbaar gemaakt, zodat Ik deze tekenen van Mij in zijn midden kan verrichten, en zodat u ten aanhoren van uw kinderen en uw kleinkinderen kunt vertellen wat Ik in Egypte heb aangericht, en wat Mijn tekenen waren die Ik onder hen verricht heb. Dan zult u weten dat Ik de HEERE ben. Exodus 10:1-2 (HSV)In parasha Bo zien we een keerpunt in de plagen over Egypte. In deze bespreking kijken we niet alleen naar wat er in het land gebeurt, maar vooral naar wat zichtbaar wordt in het hart: hoe de plagen functioneren als weegmomenten. Het hart van farao wordt zwaarder en harder, terwijl de kinderen van Israël leren om gehoorzaam te zijn in kwetsbaarheid.De geschiedenis van Pesach laat ons tegelijk het hart van de Vader zien: gericht op redding en verlossing, op uitleiding en aanneming. Juist daarom is deze oude geschiedenis verrassend actueel. Herkennen we in het heden die verlossende hand van de Eeuwige in de wereld om ons heen, en wat doen druk en confrontatie met ons hart?Support the show

Qual o tamanho dos seus sonhos? Já sonhou o impossível e aconteceu? Porque achamos que estamos sozinhos muitas vezes? Que você tenha um Shabat Shalom!!! Com muito boas descobertas sobre você mesmo. Ouça

The Torah in Parashat Bo (12:40) states that Beneh Yisrael spent a total of 430 years in Egypt. Already Rashi notes the seeming contradiction between this verse and G-d's prophecy to Abraham Abinu that his descendants would endure a 400-year period of exile and oppression (Bereshit 15:13). Why did G-d predict a period of 400 years, if Beneh Yisrael were going to spend 430 years in exile? Rashi explains that the number depends on the starting point. The period from the birth of Yishak until the Exodus was 400 years, but Abraham received this prophecy thirty years prior to Yishak's birth, for a total of 430 years. The Shela Ha'kadosh (Rav Yeshaya Horowitz, d. 1630) offered a different answer, boldly asserting that G-d added thirty years to the period of exile. G-d informed Abraham that his descendants would live as foreigners for 400 years – but as a result of Mechirat Yosef, the sale of Yosef as a slave by his brothers, thirty years were added. The Shela explains that Yosef was brought out of the dungeon in Egypt and appointed the country's vizier at the age of thirty (Bereshit 41:46). In a sense, then, his first thirty years were stolen from him because of his brothers' cruelty. Therefore, it was decreed that Beneh Yisrael would endure an additional thirty years of oppression. The Shela's theory sheds light on the Gemara's comments in Masechet Sanhedrin (92) regarding the mistake made by the tribe of Efrayim. The Gemara says about the people of Efrayim, "Manu Le'ketz Ve'ta'u" – they miscalculated the end of the Egyptian exile. When they erroneously thought that the time for redemption had arrived, they left Egypt. But when they reached the Philistine region of Gat, they were attacked by the Philistines, and many were killed, while some managed to escape back to Egypt. The Gemara says that the remains of those people from Efrayim were the "dry bones" that were miraculously brought back to life in Yehezkel's famous prophecy. On the basis of the Shela's analysis, we can understand more clearly why the tribe of Efrayim made this mistake. If, indeed, an extra thirty years were added on account of the sin of Mechirat Yosef, then it stands to reason that the tribe of Efrayim – who descended from Yosef – assumed that they did not need to wait the additional thirty years. Since this period was a punishment for the crime committed against Yosef, they figured, it did not affect them, the descendants of Yosef. They therefore left Egypt thirty years early, at the end of the period of exile that was initially decreed. The question then becomes, why were the people of Efrayim wrong? Why were they killed for leaving Egypt early? The answer emerges from a passage in the Zohar regarding another consequence of Mechirat Yosef. Each year, on Tisha B'Ab, we recite a special Kinna (dirge) about the "Asara Harugeh Malchut" – the ten great Rabbis who were brutally murdered by the Romans. The Zohar teaches that these great Rabbis were Gilgulim (reincarnations) of the brothers, and they were killed to atone for the sin of Mechirat Yosef. Now in truth, only nine of the twelve brothers participated in Mechirat Yosef: Yosef, of course, was the victim; Binyamin, the youngest, was home and not involved; and Reuben was not present when the other brothers decided to sell Yosef, and in fact tried to rescue him. Why, then, were ten Rabbis killed to atone for the sin committed by only nine brothers? The answer is that Yosef himself bore a degree of guilt. While his brothers of course acted wrongly by selling him as a slave, he was partially responsible for their hostility. He reported to Yaakob about their alleged wrongdoing, and provoked them, arousing their hatred. Therefore, he, too, was accountable. This, then, was the tribe of Efrayim's mistake. The additional thirty years were decreed also for them, the descendants of Yosef, because he was partially responsible for what happened. Their decision to leave Egypt was thus a mistake, as they, too, were required to spend an additional thirty years in Egypt.

We read in Parashat Bo of how Hashem told Moshe and Aharon the detailed laws of the korban pesach (Pesach sacrifice) which they were to teach Beneh Yisrael in preparation for Yetziat Mitzrayim . The people were to prepare a sheep for the sacrifice already several days before, and then sacrifice it on the 14th of Nissan, the afternoon before Hashem brought the plague of the firstborn which led to the people's departure from Egypt. The Torah concludes this section by saying: וילכו ויעשו בני ישראל כאשר ציווה ה' את משה ואהרון כן עשו – " Beneh Yisrael went ahead and did as G-d commanded Moshe and Aharon; so they did" (12:28). Rashi points out that the last two words of this pasuk – כן עשו ("so they did") – seem unnecessary. After telling us that the people did as they instructed, why did the Torah then repeat, "so they did"? Rashi writes that this refers to Moshe and Aharon. They, too, fulfilled Hashem's commands and prepared the sheep for the korban pesach . We must wonder, does this really answer the question? Would any of us have thought that Moshe and Aharon, who received these instructions from Hashem and conveyed them to the people, would not have obeyed them? Did this need to be said? The Brisker Rav explained that often, people who are involved in things excuse themselves from other things. When a person runs an organization or project, he thinks that this is enough to discharge his duties, and he does not have to do the "little things" that everyone else has to do. People involved in fundraising for a yeshiva, for example, might feel exempt from learning Torah, since they are doing very important work helping other people learn Torah. People who donate money to a synagogue, or who volunteer on one of the shul's committees, might feel that they don't have to actually show up to the tefillot on a regular basis, since they are making sure that other people can come to pray. This is why the Torah needed to emphasize כן עשו – that Moshe and Aharon prepared their own sheep for the korban pesach . They didn't exempt themselves, figuring that since they were responsible for getting the people to perform the mitzvah they did not need to perform it themselves. They understood that just like everyone else needed to prepare a sacrifice, so did they. Many adults find it difficult to feel inspired, to feel religiously motivated. When they were young, especially if they learned in yeshiva or seminary, it was relatively easy to get fired up, to be excited about Torah and to want to connect to Hashem. But when people get older and have families that they need to take care of and support, this becomes much more difficult. But we can't make excuses. We need to do the best we can at all stages of life. Even when we're doing very important things, such as raising a family and getting involved in all kinds of programs and projects, we can't forget about our own religious growth. Even when we're busy with other people, we have to be busy also with ourselves. Moshe and Aharon weren't too important to prepare their own korban pesach . None of us are too important to worry about our own mitzvah obligations and our relationship with Hashem.

The Name of G-d is not whispered in heaven, it is declared in deliverance. Listen to Rabbi David's Shabbat sermon based out of Parasha Vaera at CMC.

Exod. 6:2-9:35 / Ezech. 28:25–29:21Support the show

Onde está D'S? Essa é uma pergunta que muitos se fazem e outros nem querem pensar. Qual o nível de gratidão que devemos ter? Até onde ser Grato com alguém ou com D'S ? O que o Iran tem a ver com esta Parasha ? Ouça

The Torah in Parashat Vaera traces the lineage of Moshe Rabbenu, informing us that he was son of Amram and Yochebed. Amram was a grandson of Yakaob Abinu's third son, Levi – specifically, he was the son of Levi's son, Kehat. Astonishingly, the Torah relates, Yochebed was Amram's aunt – she was the daughter of Levi, the sister of Kehat. The commentaries explain that Yochebed and Kehat had different mothers, and thus they were half-siblings. As such, the marriage between Amram and Yochebed was not forbidden by the Noachide laws, which apply to all mankind. These laws forbid marrying one's parent's full sister, but not a parent's half-sister. This union would, however, be proscribed by the Torah given to Beneh Yisrael. It turns out, then, that Moshe – the greatest leader and prophet in our nation's history, who brought us the Torah – was the product of a marriage that Torah law forbids. Moshe is not the only great leader with less-than-pristine origins. The Davidic line, which began with David and Shlomo and will – we pray very soon – culminate with Mashiah, also has its origins in problematic relationships. David descended from Peretz – the product of the relationship between Yehuda and his daughter-in-law, Tamar. David's great-grandmother was Rut, a convert from the nation of Moab, and although it was ultimately concluded that this marriage was permissible, there was considerable controversy as to whether a man may marry a woman from Moab. And the founder of the nation of Moab, Rut's ancestor, was conceived when Lot's daughter gave her father wine and had a relationship with him, thinking they this was needed in order to maintain the earth's population. Rav Menahem Recanti (Italy, 1223-1290) offers an explanation for this phenomenon, for why the great leaders emerged from less-than-ideal origins. The Satan, he writes, is always seeking to sabotage the rise of these righteous figures, to block these holy souls from descending into the world. Moshe brought us the Torah, which is the "antidote" to the Yeser Ha'ra (evil inclination), the greatest weapon we have in our struggle to overcome the Satan's efforts to lure us away from the service of G-d. And the Gemara teaches that when Mashiah arrives, he will destroy the Satan so it could no longer hurt the Jewish People. Therefore, the Satan will do everything in its power to obstruct the transmission of Torah, and to prevent the arrival of Mashiah. For this reason, Hashem arranged that Moshe and David would be produced from unions that the Satan would never bother to disrupt. The Satan welcomes problematic relationships such as those of Lot and his daughters, Yehuda and Tamar, and Amram and Yochebed. He would never try to interfere with them, because this is precisely what he wants – relationships that are from the Torah's ideal marriage. Moshe and David needed to be produced this way for the purpose of avoiding the Satan's interference. This reminds us never to be discouraged by the challenges that we face in the pursuit of greatness. Whenever we try to achieve something significant, we are going to confront obstacles. Whether it's in the process of finding a spouse and raising a family, the process of learning Torah and spiritual growth, starting a new organization or project – the Satan is always going to try to interfere. Rather than be surprised and discouraged by the problems that arise, we should expect them, stay strong, and proceed with confidence, trusting that Hashem is always helping us in our efforts to defeat the Satan and achieve to the very best of our ability.

In this week's episode Rabbi Kohn discusses how to access the belssing that G-D has in store for us. Taking a lesson from the weekly Parsha, Rabbi Kohn shows how prayer is the key to letting the flow of "bracha" into our lives. He also aska why Moshe was reprimanded by G-D in a stern tone for seeminly advocating for the Jewish people. 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/     Chapters (00:00:00) - The Practical Partnership Podcast(00:00:42) - Parshas Va' Ira(00:03:14) - The Names of Hashem in the Parasha(00:08:37) - Moshe Rabbeinu Was Reprimanded(00:13:21) - The Time to Redeem the Jewish People(00:21:24) - Tefillah

Parashat Shemot tells about the enslavement of Beneh Yisrael in Egypt, a policy enacted by the king about whom the Torah writes: "A new king arose in Egypt, who did not know Yosef" (1:8). Rashi brings a debate among the Amoraim regarding this verse. One view accepts the simple meaning, that a new king came to power. According to the other view, however, this Pharaoh who decided to persecute Beneh Yisrael was the same king who ruled Egypt previously, but he is called "new" because "Nit'hadeshu Gezerotav" – he issued new decrees. This second opinion cited by Rashi requires some explanation. The phrase "Nit'hadeshu Gezerotav" does not actually denote "new" decrees. Its precise translation is "his decrees were renewed." There is, of course, a significant difference between a "new" decree and a "renewed" decree. A "new" decree is one which never existed before, whereas a "renewed decree" is a policy that was once in place and is now restored. We must ask, then, which old policy did Pharaoh "renew" in Egypt? Rav Yosef Salant (Jerusalem, 1885-1981), in his Be'er Yosef, answers this question by examining Onkelos' translation of this verse, which concludes: "De'la Mekayem Gezerat Yosef" – "who did not uphold Yosef's decree." According to Onkelos, Pharaoh annulled the policy that Yosef had put into place. This likely refers to the measures Yosef had enacted in order to feed the population of Egypt during the famine. As we read toward the end of Parashat Vayigash, once the famine struck, Yosef began selling the vast quantities of grain that had been stored during the seven years of surplus. At first, he sold grain to the people in exchange for money, and then, after they had spent all their money, he sold them grain in exchange for their animals and their land. Eventually, the people were left with nothing with which to purchase grain. Yosef therefore turned the entire population into Pharaoh's servants, giving them land to till, in exchange for which they gave Pharaoh a percentage of their crops. The Torah writes that the Egyptians were happy with this arrangement, as it ensured their survival during the devastating famine that ravaged the country. Many years later, Rav Salant explains, Pharaoh changed this policy and brought back the conditions that had been in place before Yosef came along. And thus he "renewed" the old decrees. Rav Salant writes that once the famine ended, Pharaoh used the arrangement established by Yosef as a means of provoking resentment and hostility toward Beneh Yisrael. As politicians often do, Pharaoh sought to win the people's support by convincing them that they were victims of an evil scheme from which he would heroically rescue them. He thus charged that Beneh Yisrael – who were living comfortably in the Goshen region – were responsible for the Egyptian people's lack of freedom, for their status as Pharaoh's servants, because it was Yosef who enacted this policy. And thus the arrangement that saved Egypt from widespread starvation was turned into an evil, malicious scheme to subjugate the people. The Egyptians who were previously grateful for this arrangement now resented it, blaming Yosef – and, by extension, all Beneh Yisrael – for the injustice that they were told they now experienced. One contemporary Rabbi added that this might shed light on Rav Yosef's comment in the Gemara (Pesahim 68b) expressing the great importance of the holiday of Shabuot. Rav Yosef remarked that if not for the event of Matan Torah, which is celebrated on Shabuot, "Kama Yosef Ika Be'shuka" – "There are several 'Yosef's' in the marketplace. Meaning, it is only because of the Torah that Rav Yosef was able to achieve and to distinguish himself through his outstanding scholarship. On a deeper level, however, Rav Yosef was perhaps lamenting the fact that the phenomenon of Yosef, of a Jew who was unfairly maligned and scapegoated after having helped and contributed to a country – has recurred many times. There are, unfortunately, many examples of "Yosef," occasions when Jews were viewed with suspicion and treated with hostility despite their having been hard-working, law-abiding, contributing members of society. This observation is, on the one hand, sobering, but on the other hand, it should give us hope and encouragement at this time of rising antisemitism. This phenomenon is upsetting, but not new. It has happened before – and, each time, we've prevailed. Hashem has always helped us in the past, and he will help us now, as well. We will continue to proudly carry the legacy of Yosef Ha'sadik, passionately adhering to our values and traditions while contributing to the society around us, and placing our trust in Hashem at all times.

In this week's episode Rabbi Kohn discusses a lesson in self image from the weekly parsha. He brings out how the Eygptians where not able to enslave the Jewish nation so long as they looked to them as important. He also brings out a lesson on how we must always try to accomplish righteous endeavors even if we dont neccasarily see how they are going to succede. In this week's episode Rabbi Kohn discusses the risks of acting"fast and furious". Although we need to make decisions all the time we must be careful to make them in a rational and proper way. He also speaks about how the two names of Yaakov used in the blessings of his children show us what we should aspire for our children and ourselves. 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/  If you would like to support this podcast please use this secure link to donate: SUPPORT THE PODCAST  Chapters (00:00:00) - The Practical Parsha Podcast(00:01:05) - The Parsha(00:06:02) - The Reasons Why the Egyptians Were Not Able to Seize the Jewish(00:12:19) - Parasha(00:16:59) - Basia, the Daughter of Paro(00:21:51) - Chessed for Moshe Getting Married

Parasha Vajechi: Wat de zoon laat zien.Jakob zegent zijn zonen. Wellicht is het beter om het beloften te noemen! Want neem bijvoorbeeld de woorden die Jakob heeft voor zijn eerstgeborene. Voor Ruben. Wat is dan de zegen? En wat is de belofte? In dit leerhuis sta ik stil bij de belofte van Ruben. Zie, een zoon. Wat de zoon laat zien. Negen uitspraken doet Jakob over zijn zoon Ruben. Zoals er ook negen keer eerder over Ruben wordt gesproken in het boek Genesis. Ruben: de man met een missie om op te komen voor de verdrukten.Gen. 47:28-50:26 / 1 Kon. 2:1–12Support the show

Rashi opens his commentary to Parashat Vayehi with an observation about the "formatting" of this text in the Torah scroll. He notes that the text of Parashat Vayehi begins immediately after the text of the previous Parasha, with no space in between. Normally, the Torah indicates the beginning of a new section with empty space. Sometimes a new section begins on the next line ("Parasha Petuha"), and sometimes a new section begins nine empty spaces (meaning, the space needed to write nine letters) after the end of the previous section ("Parasha Setuma"). Parashat Vayehi, however, begins with no empty space at all separating it from the previous Parasha, appearing as though this is not actually a new Parasha at all. We know that the division of the Torah into Parashiyot was established by Ezra based on an oral tradition. The question thus arises as to why Parashat Vayehi is written immediately after the previous Parasha, without any empty space to indicate that a new Parasha begins. Rashi explains that this "closed" formatting symbolizes the fact that "once Yaakob died, the eyes and hearts of Israel were 'closed' from the distress of bondage, as they [the Egyptians] began to enslave them." The "closed" Parasha expresses the "closing" that occurred due to the slavery that began to unfold after Yaakob Abinu's passing, which the Torah tells about in this Parasha. We must ask, what exactly does Rashi mean when he speaks of the people's eyes and hearts "closing"? Additionally, tradition teaches that the Egyptians did not enslave Beneh Yisrael until all of Yaakob's sons passed away. As long as even one of the Yaakob's sons was alive, the period of slavery did not begin. How, then, can Rashi say that the Egyptians began enslaving Beneh Yisrael after Yaakob Abinu's death? One explanation I saw is that Rashi refers not to the bondage itself, but rather to the early warning signs. Even before Beneh Yisrael were enslaved, there were indications of hostility toward them. Unfortunately, the people's "eyes and hearts" were "closed," they were blinded, and failed to see what was happening before to was too late. When we learn Jewish history, and hear about the tragically numerous incidents of persecution that our nation has suffered, we often find ourselves wondering why the Jews did not just leave, why they did not see the proverbial "writing on the wall" ahead of time and escape before it was too late. The answer is found in Rashi's comments. The Jews' eyes were often closed, unable – or unwilling – to objectively assess the situation, to see where developments were leading. They dismissed hostility as a limited phenomenon, the attitudes of a negligible fringe element. Or, they would see it as a passing phase that would soon end. If a discriminatory law was passed, or a discriminatory policy decision was made, the Jews would assure themselves that it could be repealed, that a different politician will soon come in and implement a different policy, or that they would just lobby government officials. Rashi is telling us that our ancestors in Egypt made this same mistake. Their eyes and minds were "closed," unable to see what was really happening. We must always keep our eyes and minds open, and honestly acknowledge what is happening even when these truths are uncomfortable. And we must never delude ourselves into assuming that the kind of hostility that our nation has experienced in other countries cannot surface here, too. As we continue hoping and praying to Hashem to protect us wherever we are, we must, at the same time, keep our hand on the pulse of the society in which we live and keep our eyes open to potential threats to our future.

WayigashDe lezingen van parshat Wayigash zijn Genesis 44:18 – 47:27 en Ezechiël 37:15-28. We focussen in het bijzonder op het gedeelte van Genesis 46:8-27. In dit gedeelte worden de zonen van Jakob opgesomd, die met hem meegingen naar Egypte. We treffen drie sommen aan, die respectievelijk op 70, 66 en 70 uitkomen. Wat is hier de geestelijke betekenis van? En welke rol speelt dochter Dinah hierin? Hoe verwijst dit naar Yeshua HaMashiach? Laten we erin duiken!Support the show

The Torah in Parashat Vayigash lists the names of the members of Yaakob Abinu's family who moved with him from Canaan to Egypt. These include his granddaughter, Serah, the daughter of Asher (46:17). Targum Yonatan Ben Uziel tells us something fascinating about Serah – she was one of the very few people in world history who never died, and instead went into Gan Eden alive. Serah received this special reward because she was the one who informed Yaakob Abinu that Yosef was still alive. Yaakob had mourned and grieved for twenty-two years, thinking that Yosef, his beloved son, was devoured by an animal. When Yosef's brothers returned from Egypt with the news that Yosef was actually alive, and had risen to the position of vizier of Egypt, they were unsure how to communicate this information to Yaakob. He was an elderly, shattered man, and they needed to share with him this news in a gentle, delicate manner that wouldn't cause him shock. They turned to Serah, Asher's daughter, who was a talented musician. She took an instrument and sang beautifully to Yaakob the words that Yosef was alive. In reward for this act, Serah earned eternal life. It is not difficult to see the principle of "Midda Ke'negged Midda" – how actions are repaid "measure for measure" – at work in this story. Serah effectively restored Yaakb Abinu's soul, bringing him back to life. Throughout the twenty-two years of mourning, Yaakob was lifeless – without joy, without vitality. Serah restored Yaakob's life – and so she was rewarded with eternal life. The Zohar teaches that anytime a person shares good news with somebody, the spirit of Eliyahu Ha'nabi enters his being. Eliyahu is the one who will inform us of Mashiah's imminent arrival. In fact, Ashkenazim have the practice of adding a brief prayer to Birkat Ha'mazon asking Hashem to send us Eliyahu Ha'nabi "so that he will bring us good news, salvations and consolations." Eliyahu is the ultimate bearer of good tidings – and he is the most famous person who never died, who lives eternally, who went straight into Gan Eden without experiencing death. By sharing good news with people, we attain an element of Eliyahu Ha'nabi's eternal quality. When we tell good news, we make people happier, we revitalize them, we encourage them, we bring them more "liveliness." We are thus worthy of eternity. I recall that after my first child was born, I went from the hospital to a job I had at the time tutoring a young man in preparation for his Bar-Misva. When I came in, his mother said hello and asked how I was doing. I said I was fine, without informing her that my wife delivered a baby boy. I felt I would come across as self-absorbed by telling her about the birth. Later, the father came in and said hello, and once again I just responded to the greeting without informing him about the birth of my son. Not long after I left, both parents heard that my wife had given birth to a boy. They both called me and asked in bewilderment why I hadn't said anything about it. I acted incorrectly that day. I didn't realize at that time how important it is to share good news, as much and as often as possible. People love hearing good news. It gets them excited, it injects them with optimism and encouragement. It gives them a better feeling about the world. It reminds them that beautiful things are happening all around them, that Hashem does so many wonderful things. Sharing good news has the effect of lifting people's spirits and energizing them. This is especially important in today's day and age. The device we carry in our pocket is constantly bringing us bad news. We are greeted all day by distressing news, by all that is wrong in the world. The news feeds never tell us about couples getting engaged and married, about people working hard, accomplishing, and earning a respectable livelihood, about happy families enjoying dinner or an outing, about people doing Misvot and learning Torah. This is not reported as news because it's uninteresting. News feeds instead tell us as much negative information as it can – crime, corruption, ugly politics, "juicy" gossip about public personalities and celebrities, etc. Every piece of news we consume makes the world seem darker. The cumulative effect of news consumption is chronic negativity, and even anxiety, as we feel that everything about the world is wrong. The antidote to this gloom is positivity. We should be making a point of being as positive and upbeat as possible. We should be seizing every opportunity we have to share happy news, to point out the good things that are happening, to compliment, to praise, to express admiration and gratitude. There is more than enough negativity in our lives – and we must therefore avoid adding further negativity. Instead, let's spread positivity, talking as much as we can about all the good we see around us.

In this week's episode Rabbi Kohn discuuses a powerful lesson from Yosef about focusing. How Yosef pushed aside his emotions to put all his energies into one mission. This is an important lesson for us especially in the ADD world we live in. To make time to focus. He also speaks about the importance of dealing with our emotions and not putting it under the rug. We see from Yosef how he finally cried after 22 years. 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/  If you would like to support this podcast please use this secure link to donate: SUPPORT THE PODCAST Chapters (00:00:00) - This week's Practical Parsha Podcast features Parshas Vayigash(00:00:45) - The Parasha(00:04:01) - Parsha 4, Yosef Reveals Himself to His Brothers(00:05:44) - He Harnessed His Father's Chariot(00:13:50) - Why Yosef Wept but Yaakov Did Not(00:19:45) - The Meeting of the Brothers with Paro

In this week's episode Rabbi Kohn discusses the rik of being connected with the wrong people. When we are around negative things it will effect us. He also brings out a lesson from Chanukah on how the holiday is the time for us to focus on whats on the inside and not be held back by our "gates". 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/  If you would like to support this podcast please use this secure link to donate: SUPPORT THE PODCAST Chapters (00:00:00) - Practical Parasha: The Sydney Synagogue tragedy(00:04:57) - The Parsha(00:08:51) - The Parasha(00:12:50) - The Bad Associations of Paro(00:18:37) - Chanukah

Parasha MiketzLezen: Genesis 41:1–44:17 / 1 Koningen 3:15–4:1 / Johannes 10:22–39“En het gebeurde, na verloop van twee volle jaren, dat de farao droomde…” (Genesis 42:1, HSV)Met deze geladen woorden opent parasha Miketz. Miketz betekent letterlijk: “aan het einde.” Het is een afronding die ruimte maakt voor een nieuw begin. Na twee lange jaren van vergetelheid komt er een kantelpunt: voor Jozef breekt onverwacht een nieuwe fase aan. Het is de opmaat naar de dramatische onthulling waar we in de volgende parasha deelgenoot van zullen worden.In deze parasha zien we hoe de Eeuwige, midden in verborgenheid en spanning, wijsheid geeft om waarheid aan het licht te brengen: bij Jozef in Egypte, bij Salomo in zijn oordeel, en in Johannes 10, waar Jeshua tijdens Chanoeka in de tempel spreekt over herkenning, gezag en de stem van de Goede Herder.Support the show

Parashat Miketz begins with the famous story of Yosef being brought from the Egyptian prison to interpret Pharaoh's unusual dreams. Yosef informed Pharoh that his visions of seven lean cows devouring seven large cows, and seven lean sheaves devouring seven large sheaves, foretold a seven-year period of agricultural surplus that would be immediately followed by seven years of harsh famine. After explaining the meaning of Pharaoh's dreams, Yosef proceeded to urge the king to appoint somebody to oversee the storage of grain during the next seven years to prepare for the drought years which would follow. Pharaoh promptly assigned Yosef to this role. Yosef adds a curious phrase in his remarks to Pharaoh, one which is often overlooked. In urging the king to set up a mechanism for the storage of grain, Yosef says, "Ya'aseh Pharaoh Ve'yafked Pekidim Al Ha'aretz" – "Pharaoh shall act and appoint officers over the land" (41:34). Yosef does not just advise Pharaoh to appoint officials – he says, "Ya'aseh Pharaoh," that "Pharaoh shall act." What is meant by these words? Why did Yosef emphasize that Pharaoh should "act"? Some suggest that Yosef here expressed a fundamental principle of leadership and education – the importance of setting a personal example. Yosef anticipated that there would be opposition among the Egyptian population to his plan to store large amounts of grain. During years of economic prosperity, few people have the foresight to consider the possibility of a shortage down the road. It would be hard for the Egyptians to envision a devastating famine while they were busy harvesting unprecedentedly large amounts of produce. They would not be so quick to put the surplus grain into storage to prepare for something that the government claimed would happen years later. They would need some convincing. This is why Yosef said, "Ya'aseh Pharaoh." The best way for Pharoah to convince the people to store grain was for him to set an example. Before he could appoint officials to enforce a policy of storage, he would have to "act" – he would need to show the people that he, too, was storing his surplus, that he was not overindulging during the years of prosperity. This was critical for the success of this plan. We might add that Yosef learned this concept from his father, Yaakob. At the end of Parashat Vayeseh, we read that Yaakov made a pact with his father-in-law, Laban, and as a formal symbol of their agreement they made a special pile of stones. The Torah tells that Yaakob turned to his sons and instructed them to collect stones to make this large pile ("Liktu Abanim" – 31:46). Despite the grueling labor involved, his sons immediately obeyed, without any protest. The likely reason is because in the preceding verse, we read that Yaakob himself lifted a large stone and erected it as a monument. Before asking his sons to participate in this process, Yaakob first acted himself. He first set an example for his children, and they were then far more receptive to his request that they join. Parents, educators, and anyone looking to have an impact must realize this truism about influence. A person is not likely to inspire others by sitting comfortably and trying to convince them to act. If we want to influence and inspire, we need to act, to set an example, to model the behavior. It is only if our words are accompanied by a personal example that we can hope for them to have an impact.

*מאי חנוכה* שמירת עיניים

The opening verse of Parashat Vayesheb introduces the story of Yosef by saying, "Vayesheb Yaakob Be'eretz Megureh Abib, Be'eretz Kena'an" – "Yaakob dwelled in the land when his father had lived, in the land of Canaan." The question arises as to why the Torah found it necessary to inform us that Yaakob lived in the Land of Israel (known then as Canaan). While it is true that Yaakob had spent twenty years outside the land, with his uncle in Haran, we already read in last week's Parasha, Parashat Vayishlah, of Yaakob's return to the Land of Israel, and of his experiences there. Why, then, do we need to be told again that he lived in Canaan? Moreover, we must ask why the Torah emphasizes here that this is the land where Yaakob's father, Yishak, had lived. We are well aware of the fact that Yishak had lived in Israel, and we know that even when famine struck the land, and he began journeying toward Egypt – just as his father, Abraham Abinu, had done in a time of famine – G-d appeared to him and commanded him to remain in the land and not to go to Egypt (Bereshit 26:2-3). Why, then, does the Torah find it necessary to mention that the Land of Israel was "Eretz Megureh Abib" – the land where Yishak had lived? The Ramban answers these questions by explaining that the word "Megureh" stems from the word "Ger" – "foreigner." The Torah isn't telling us that Yaakob lived in Canaan – but rather that he lived as a "Ger," as a foreigner, under the rule of the Canaanite tribes, just as his father had. This reality fulfilled G-d's prophecy to Abraham Abinu that his descendants would live as foreigners, in a land governed by others – "Ki Ger Yiheyeh Zar'acha Ba'aretz Lo Lahem" (Bereshit 15:13). Abraham's descendants would live as foreigners for 210 years in Egypt – but this prophecy actually began immediately with the birth of Yishak, who lived as a foreigner in the land of Canaan, as Yaakob did, until going to Egypt at the very end of his life. The reason this is emphasized here, the Ramban explains, is for the sake of contrasting Yaakob with his brother, Esav. The previous section – the end of Parashat Vayishlah – elaborates at great length on Esav's progeny, how he settled in the region of Edom and established there a large empire. Esav enjoyed all the comforts of freedom and sovereignty, establishing a kingdom swiftly and easily. Yaakob, meanwhile, remained in his homeland, in the Land of Israel, where he lived as a foreigner. It would be centuries later that Yaakob's descendants, Beneh Yisrael, would – after many difficult battles – establish their kingdom in their homeland. The Ramban writes that the Torah mentions this "to tell that they [Yishak and Yaakob] chose to live in the chosen land, and that through them [the prophecy of] 'for your offspring shall be foreigners in a land not theirs' was fulfilled." As opposed to Esav, Yaakob – like his father – preferred living in the Promised Land, in the sacred Land of Israel, even under less-than-ideal conditions, rather than enjoy the comforts and conveniences that were available elsewhere. Yaakob chose a life of meaning and purpose over a life of comfort and convenience. He understood that we are brought here to this world to live meaningfully, to pursue meaningful goals and achievements, and not to enjoy vain pleasures. And so he preferred basking in the sanctity of the Land of Israel over an easier life elsewhere. Life as a Torah Jew isn't always easy – because the goal is to live with meaning and purpose, which takes hard work and sacrifice. We, the descendants of Yaakob Abinu, must follow his example of choosing a life of Kedusha and purpose over a life of comfort and convenience.

The name of the Parshah, "Vayeshev," means "And he dwelt" and it is found in Genesis 37:1.Jacob settles in Hebron with his twelve sons. His favorite is seventeen-year-old Joseph, whose brothers are jealous of the preferential treatment he receives from his father, such as a precious many-colored coat that Jacob makes for Joseph. Joseph relates to his brothers two of his dreams which foretell that he is destined to rule over them, increasing their envy and hatred towards him.

Parasha Vayichlakh by Rav David Touitou

God's very Name in which we are told to trust (Isaiah 50:10) is "Rakhum V'Chanun" – Compassionate & Merciful. We see the traits in this Name surface especially clearly in moments of high chaos like this week's Parasha in which Jacob returns to Beth El, and his name is changed to "Israel" after he wrestles for his rightful destiny with passionate endurance.

When Yaakob heard that his brother, Esav, was approaching with a militia of 400 men, he offered an impassioned prayer to G-d, begging for help. He cried, "Hasileni Na Mi'yad Ahi Mi'yad Esav" – "Save me, please, from my brother, from Esav" (32:12). A famous insight into this verse was offered by the Bet Ha'levi (Rav Yosef Dov Soloveitchik of Brisk, 1820-1892), one which is worth our while to review and ponder. The Bet Ha'levi noted that Yaakob asked G-d to protect him from both "Esav" and from "my brother." Of course, these seem to be one and the same. But the Bet Ha'levi explains that this refers to two different threats that Yaakob feared. The first and more obvious threat was that posed by "Esav" – the violent, evil man who hated Yaakob for having taken his blessing, and sought to kill him. Esav's hostility and violent character posed a clear and present danger. But Yaakob also feared the opposite prospect – that Esav would come as "my brother," with love and affection. This, too, presented a danger, albeit a much different form of danger – a spiritual danger. When the gentile nations treat us as "brothers," inviting us to closely interact with them, we risk becoming like them, of exchanging our traditional beliefs, values and practices for their culture. Whereas "Esav" threatens our physical existence, "my brother" threatens our spiritual existence. The Gemara tells that King Ahashverosh despised the Jews no less than Haman. When Haman presented to the king his idea to annihilate the Jews, and offered to pay for it, Ahashverosh responded that to the contrary, he would pay Haman to do this, because he wanted the Jews killed. The Gemara draws an analogy to a person with a large mound of dirt on his property which he wanted to get rid of, and he is approached by another person who has a large hole on his property which he wished to fill. The person with the hole in the ground offers to pay the other person for his mound of dirt – but the one with the mound of dirt is prepared to pay him to remove it. Likewise, Haman was willing to pay Ahashverosh to annihilate the Jews, but Ahashverosh was prepared to pay Haman to get rid of them. But when we read the Megilla, we do not get the impression that Ahashverosh disliked the Jews. To the contrary, he invited them to his feast, and they happily participated. In truth, however, this was no less sinister a plot than Haman's plan to murder the Jews. Haman approached the Jewish People as "Esav," whereas Ahashverosh approached them as "my brother," inviting them to assimilate and embrace the Persian culture, values and lifestyle. Returning to the story of Yaakob and Esav, the Torah tells that when they finally reunited, Esav embraced Yaakob and kissed him. However, one view in the Midrash, as Rashi (33:4) cites, explains that Esav first tried to bite Yaakob's neck. Hashem performed a miracle, making Yaakob's neck hard as marble, such that Esav's teeth could not penetrate it. Esav then kissed him. He at first tried to hurt Yaakov with hostility and violence, and when this failed, he resorted to the tactic of "my brother," by showing love and affection, hoping to lure Yaakob away from his beliefs and values. We must stand guard against both dangers. In a time of growing antisemitism, we must of course remain vigilant and take appropriate measures to protect ourselves. No less importantly, however, we must protect ourselves from the lure of assimilation. The United States offers us freedom and equality, treating us no differently than any other group in this country. This is, undoubtedly, a wonderful blessing for which we must be grateful, as it has allowed us to build communities such as ours and practice our religion without fear. At the same time, however, the freedoms have wrought a spiritual catastrophe, pulling a frighteningly high percentage of Jews away from their heritage. The American Jew's freedom to fully participate in American culture and society entices him to abandon his traditions in favor of the values and lifestyle of the people around us, and too many have fallen prey to this temptation. We need to ensure that our enjoyment of the wonderful freedoms granted us by this country does not result in our rejection of our traditions. And we do this through our community institutions, through our schools, synagogues, yeshivot and programs, which help solidify our identity as Torah Jews, an identity that we continue to wear with pride and conviction even as we participate in and interact with the general society.

The name of the Parshah, "Vayishlach," means "And he sent" and it is found in Genesis 32:4.Jacob returns to the Holy Land after a 20-year stay in Charan, and sends angel-emissaries to Esau in hope of a reconciliation, but his messengers report that his brother is on the warpath with 400 armed men. Jacob prepares for war, prays, and sends Esau a large gift (consisting of hundreds of heads of livestock) to appease him.

Parasha Vayetse 5786 by Rav David Touitou

When Yaakov arrived at the outskirts of Haran, he saw local shepherds with their herds near the well outside the city. He asked them why they weren't giving their sheep water. The shepherds explained that they could not remove the large, heavy stone from the top of the well. They needed to wait for all the shepherds to assemble at the well so they could together roll the stone off the well. Yaakob then proceeded to the well and, by himself, pushed the stone off so the shepherds could draw water for their flocks. Rashi comments that this episode shows us that Yaakob possessed unique physical strength. We must ask, for what purpose did the Torah tells us about Yaakob Abinu's exceptional strength? What lesson are we to learn from this story? Every person, without any exceptions, has spiritual struggles. And no two people's struggles are the same. Misvot which come easily for one person is a difficult challenge for somebody else. Some people struggle to observe Kashrut, others have a hard time with Shabbat. There are those who have difficulty praying properly, and there are those who find it challenging to observe the Torah's standards of Seniut (modesty). But everyone is struggling with something. This is true even of the great Sadikim. King Shlomo teaches us in Mishleh (24:16), "Ki Sheba Yipol Sadik Ve'kam" – "For a righteous person falls seven times and gets up." Even the righteous fall – and they fall repeatedly. The difference between a righteous person and others is "Ve'kam" – that a Sadik "gets up" each and every time he falls. The wicked person, at a certain point, gives up. He decides not to bother struggling, figuring that it's just too hard for him. An example of this kind of person is Esav, about whom the Torah says, "Ve'hu Ayef" – "and he was tired" (25:29). Esav had the potential for greatness. He was no less capable of being a Sadik than Yaakob was. But he grew "tired" – he decided not to try. The Sadik doesn't get tired. He falls, often, but he keeps getting back up. How does the Sadik do this? What motivates him to keep trying, even after falling multiple times? The answer is found in one of the Birchot Ha'shahar (morning blessings), in which we thank Hashem "Ha'noten La'ya'ef Ko'ah" – "who gives strength to the weary." The Sadik keeps getting back up because he believes that Hashem is helping him and giving him strength. As long as we keep trying, Hashem gives us the abilities we need to eventually succeed. This is the difference between the wicked and the righteous: the wicked person feels powerless, and thus concludes that there is no purpose to continue trying, whereas the righteous person confidently believes that Hashem is giving him the strength he needs to improve. This is the message of the story of Yaakob Abinu's experiences at the well outside Haran. The large stone on the well symbolizes the Yeser Ha'ra, our evil inclination, the difficult – often overwhelming – spiritual challenges that we each face. Like the stone, they seem too big to move, too difficult to handle, too much for us to overcome. The shepherds, like many people, don't bother trying, because they assume they don't have the strength to succeed. Yaakob showed that when one believes in the "Noten La'ya'ef Ko'ah," he is much stronger than he thinks, and he can "remove the stone," and overcome his challenges. We are not expected to be perfect, because we are human beings, and human beings aren't perfect. We are, however, expected to try, and to try again when we don't succeed. We are expected not to grow tired, not to give up, and to instead trust that Hashem is helping us and giving us the strength we need to achieve.

Parashat Hayeh-Sara tells the famous story of Eliezer, Abraham's trusted servant, whom Abraham sent to find a suitable match for Abraham's son, Yishak. Upon arriving at the well outside Abraham's hometown, Aram Naharayim, from where Abraham instructed him to find the match, Eliezer prayed to G-d, begging for His assistance. He said that he would ask a girl at the well for some water, and he asked Hashem to arrange that the girl who not only agreed to give him water, but also offered to give water to his camels, should be the girl destined to marry Yishak. Sure enough, Eliezer saw Ribka – the daughter of Yishak's cousin, Betuel – at the well, and, not knowing who she was, he approached her and asked for water. She agreed, gave him water from her pitcher, and then said that she would draw water from the well for his camels. Ribka then proceeded to repeatedly draw water and pour it into the trough for all ten of Eliezer's camels. Surprisingly, the Torah tells that as Ribka was doing all this, Eliezer watched carefully, wondering "if G-d had made his mission successful or not" (24:21). It seems that even at this point, after Ribka offered to draw water for his camels, he was still not convinced. He needed to observe her throughout this process to determine whether or not she was indeed the right girl to marry Abraham's son. We must ask, what else did Ribka need to prove? Eliezer explicitly said that the suitable girl would be the one who responded to his request for water by offering to draw water for his camels. Why did he still need to wait while Ribka proceeded to draw the water before concluding that she was the one chosen by G-d to marry Yishak? Rav Leib Mintzberg (Jerusalem, 1943-2018), in his Ben Melech, explains that the quality of one's Hesed is not assessed merely by the practical results, by the tangible benefits that he provides. It is measured also by the way it is performed, by whether one helps his fellow graciously, warmly, with a smile, in a manner that makes the recipient feel comfortable and respected. We've all had different kinds of experiences when asking for a favor. Sometimes the person grants our request, but does so coldly, almost begrudgingly, giving us the feeling that he or she would have preferred not to have been bothered. And then there are times when the person does the favor happily, with a warm smile, asking if there's anything else we need, making us feel comfortable and at ease. This is a critically important component of Hesed. Indeed, the Gemara teaches in Masechet Baba Batra (9b) that one who gives money to somebody in need is rewarded with six blessings, whereas one who speaks words of comfort to that individual, lifting his spirits and giving him encouragement, receives eleven blessings – because making a person feel comfortable and at ease is a crucial aspect of kindness. This, Rav Mintzberg writes, is what Eliezer was watching for. Ribka already said that she would draw water for the camels – but Eliezer wanted to see if she would do it warmly and happily, which she of course did. Rav Mintzberg explains on this basis why, afterward, Eliezer gave Ribka as a gift two bracelets and a nose ring, adorning her hands and her face. This symbolizes the fact that she excelled in both aspects of Hesed – the action, and the demeanor. She exerted physical effort to draw a large amount of water for Eliezer's camels, but she also helped him with her face, by wearing a warm smile, by showing her eagerness to help. And these two elements – the act of Hesed, coupled with her warmth and graciousness – are what made Ribka worthy of marrying Yishak and becoming a matriarch of Hashem's treasured nation.

Parasha Vayera and more by Rabbi Benjamin Lavian

Toward the end of Parashat Vayera, we read the famous story of Akedat Yishak – where Abraham Abinu was commanded to offer his beloved son, Yishak, as a sacrifice upon the altar. At the last moment, as Abraham held the knife over Yishak, prepared to slaughter him in fulfillment of G-d's command, an angel called out to Abraham and told him to desist, explaining that the command was merely a test of Abraham's devotion to Hashem. The Zohar, in a fascinating passage, adds a remarkable component to this story – one which sheds light on one of the critical lessons that it teaches us. When Yishak saw the knife about to descend upon his neck, the Zohar tells, he, in a sense, died. His soul departed. He was then given a new soul, and came back to life. Yishak was the first to recite the Beracha of "Mehayeh Ha'metim" – praising Hashem who restores life to the dead, and for this reason the second blessing of the Amida prayer, which corresponds to Yishak – the second of patriarchs – concludes with this Beracha. This replacement of Yishak's soul laid the foundations of the emergence of the Jewish Nation. Yishak's original soul was incapable of begetting children, but this new soul was. It turns out, then, that it was only because of Akedat Yishak that Yishak was able to produce offspring. This gives us an entirely new perspective on the story of the Akeda, and its relevance to our lives. When Avraham received the command to slaughter to Yishak, he did not understand how G-d could instruct him to do such a thing. After all, G-d had earlier told him, "Ki Be'Yishak Yikareh Lecha Zara" – that his line would continue through Yishak, and not through his first son, Yishmael (21:12). How, Abraham wondered, could G-d assure him that Yishak would be heir to his covenant with G-d, and the father of the nation destined to emerge from him, and then command offering him as a sacrifice before he had a child? Abraham did not understand. It seemed that offering Yishak on the altar marked the end of G-d's promise, as it would prevent the birth of Am Yisrael. In truth, however, fulfilling this command is precisely what enabled Yishak to have children. Had Abraham refused to obey, in the interest of assuring that Yishak would father the great nation that Hashem had promised – it would not have happened. It was specifically by fulfilling G-d's command, which entailed doing something that appeared to sabotage the process of Am Yisrael's emergence, that Am Yisrael in fact emerged. The Midrash teaches that G-d implores us, "Obey Me, because nobody obeys Me and loses." We never lose by following Hashem's will, by observing the Misvot. We often find ourselves tested the way Abraham was, as a Misva appears detrimental to us. Many times, we face a situation where doing the right thing seems to work against us and our best interests. Staying in bed instead of getting up for Minyan is more comfortable and convenient. Avoiding places where we know we should not be might cost us social points. Dressing, speaking and acting the way we know we should might invite ridicule. Adhering to the Torah's strict ethical standards could cost us profitable opportunities. So often, the right thing to do seems to hurt us. But even when this is true in the short-term, it is never true in the long-term. Whatever sacrifice we need to make here in the present to remain faithful to our Torah values is more than worth it, because Hashem guarantees us that in the long run, we only benefit from obeying His commands. Rav Nachman of Breslav (1772-1810) taught that when a person feels himself becoming angry, he should imagine that Hashem is about to give him an enormous fortune – but he must earn it by restraining his anger. The person thinks that shouting and insulting is the right response to the situation – but by doing so, he will forfeit the inestimable future rewards that are promised to those who control their anger. This can be applied to all the many religious challenges that we face on a day-to-day basis. When we feel tempted to compromise our principles, we should remember the lesson of Akedat Yishak – that the short-term benefits we sacrifice to obey Hashem are far surpassed by the long-term benefits of obedience.

In this week's Parasha, Lech Lecha, we begin once again to learn lessons from the lives of Avraham and Sarah. They were both great nivi'im and understood the ways of Heaven. When Sarah saw that she was not meriting to have children, she began to think of what she could do as a special zechut to change her mazal. Chazal tell us that Sarah was not physically capable of bearing children, as she did not even have a womb. She realized that for such a salvation, she would need an enormous zechut. So what did she do? The pasuk tells us: Sarah gave her maidservant Hagar to Avraham as a wife, saying, "Perhaps I will be built through her." What was so great about giving Hagar to Avraham? Sarah knew that Avraham had a mitzvah to have children, but perhaps she was the one preventing him from fulfilling that mitzvah. With tremendous selflessness, she gave another woman to her own husband, solely so that he could fulfill Hashem's will. Moreover, Sarah could have suggested that Hagar be taken as a pilegesh instead of a full wife. But she was concerned for the kavod of Avraham. He was like a prince, and it was not fitting for him to have less than a true wife. We know that the natural longing of a woman is for the attention of her husband. In fact, the Gemara calls a co-wife a tzarah — a rival — because it becomes a rivalry for their husband's attention. For Sarah to voluntarily offer her husband a different wife so he could fulfill the mitzvah was an act of extraordinary mesirut nefesh. Sarah understood that self-sacrifice brings great berachah and yeshuah. And indeed, later in the Parashah, Hashem changed her name from Sarai to Sarah, and announced that she would be blessed with a child — the child who would become the future of Klal Yisrael. The Kli Yakar explains that Hashem removed the Yud from "Sarai" because the letter Yud is masculine, symbolizing that she had been created like a male in that she was unable to bear children. He replaced it with the letter Hei , which is feminine, signifying that she would now be able to bear children in the normal way of a female. But numerically, there was a loss — Yud equals ten, Hei equals five. To restore balance, Hashem created another Hei (five) and attached it to the name of Avram, turning him into Avraham. The mekubalim explain that the letter Hei is associated with reproduction. The Kli Yakar writes that it was Sarah's zechut — the selflessness with which she gave her maidservant to Avraham — that enabled not only herself, but also Avram, who until then was unable to father children, to now have children. The Hei that was added to Avraham's name came from Sarah, because it was in her merit that he gained this ability. From here we see the enormous power of a mitzvah done with mesirut nefesh. Sarah's selflessness was the catalyst that enabled both her and Avraham to have children — and through it, Yitzchak Avinu came into the world. Every extra zechut that a person gains is of immeasurable value. Our Rabbis tell us that when a mitzvah is performed, it creates an et ratzon — a time of Divine favor. The greater the mitzvah, the greater the et ratzon . And tefillot offered at such a time rise even higher. May we all merit, be'ezrat Hashem , to gain the right zichuyot that will bring about yeshuot for all who need them. Shabbat Shalom