Podcasts about sedra

We are of the firm belief that you should be equally-yoked in your marriage, but even more than that: missionally-aligned!In this episode, Millicent Sedra joins us all the way from Australia to share aa miraculous testimony, timeless truths, and the powerful ways she has seen God move in her marriage.Connect with Christian or find her book "Break Up with What Broke You" at ChristianBevere.com

The Torah in Parashat Vaet'hanan (4:2) introduces the prohibitions known as "Bal Tosif" and "Bal Tigra" – adding onto the Torah's laws, and detracting from the Torah's laws. Rashi explains that this refers to adding onto or detracting from a particular Misva. He gives the examples of wearing Tefillin with parchment containing more or fewer Parashiyot (sections of text) than the Torah requires. There are four Parashiyot which are to be inserted in the Tefillin, and if a person adds a fifth Parasha, then he transgresses the prohibition of "Bal Tosif," and if he includes only three Parashiyot, then he violates "Bal Tigra." Another example given by Rashi is waving more than four species on Sukkot, or fewer than four. The Ramban comments that the prohibition of "Bal Tosif" includes also introducing a new Misva to the Torah. If a person comes along and makes up a new law, claiming that this should be part of the Torah, he violates the prohibition of "Bal Tosif." Conversely, one who decides that a certain Biblical command is no longer part of the Torah transgresses "Bal Tigra." The Ramban clarifies that this applies only to one who introduces a new law and claims that it is obligatory as a Biblical imperative. The Sages enacted numerous obligations and prohibitions, but they made it very clear that these are not included in Torah, but are rather provisions that they saw fit to legislate to meet a particular need. And, they stipulated that the laws they enacted are treated differently than the laws of the Torah, with greater leniency. Thus, they do not violate the prohibition of "Bal Tosif." The Gaon of Vilna (1720-1797) brilliantly noted that both interpretations are correct, and rooted in the text of the Torah. The prohibition of "Bal Tosif" appears not only here, in Parashat Vaet'hanan, but also later, in Parashat Re'eh (13:1). However, the contexts of these verses reveals that they address two different commands. Here in Parashat Vaet'hanan, the command of "Bal Tosif" appears after Moshe tells the people, "Listen to the statutes and laws which I am teaching you to observe" (4:1). Moshe is telling Beneh Yisrael that he was going to present to them the Misvot, and he then warns them not to add more laws or to reject any of the laws that he was teaching them. In Parashat Re'eh, however, Moshe says, "Each thing that I am commanding you – you shall ensure to observe; do not add onto it, and do not detract from it." It seems clear that in this verse, Moshe speaks of each particular Misva, urging the people to observe every Misva precisely as he commands, without adding onto the Misva or taking anything away from it. The Ha'ketab Ve'ha'kabbala (Rav Yaakov Tzvi Mecklenberg, 1785-1865) follows this general approach of the Vilna Gaon, but he notes a different distinction between the two verses. The command here in Parashat Vaet'hanan is formulated in the plural form – "Lo Tosifu…Ve'lo Tigre'u" – whereas the command in Parashat Re'ei appears in the singular form – "Lo Tosef…Ve'lo Tigra." The Ha'ketab Ve'ha'kabbala thus suggests that here in Parashat Vaet'hanan, the Torah is addressing not an individual, but rather the Sanhedrin, the highest rabbinic body, which represents the entire nation. These scholars, the leading Sages of Israel, are the ones who need the warning not to change the Torah by introducing new laws or doing away with existing laws. In Parashat Re'eh, by contrast, the Torah is addressing the individual, who has no authority and would thus never think to introduce a new Misva, or eliminate a Misva. He needs the warning not to add onto or detract from specific Misvot, such as by adding an additional Parasha to the Tefillin or removing a Parasha. This command reminds us of the timelessness of the Torah, that at no point does it become "outdated" or in need of modification. Already from the outset, when the Torah was given, we are told that it and all its commands are eternal and eternally binding. Today's world is, of course, very different from the world at the time of Matan Torah, and the changing circumstances may affect the practical application of certain Misvot, based on the details of each Misva's requirements as determined by our oral halachic tradition. But never can we say that a Misva is no longer binding simply by virtue of the fact that many centuries have passed since the Torah was given. Each and every Misva is eternally relevant, and we are bound to all the Misvot no less now than our ancestors were millennia ago.

The Mishnah in Masechet Ta'anit (26b) describes how Tu B'Av – the 15 th of the month of Av – was an especially joyous occasion, a day when shidduchim (matches) were made. The girls would wear fine clothing and go into the vineyards. The young men would then come and choose a bride. The Gemara (31a) adds that the girls would try to draw the young men's attention to their qualities. The girls with an attractive appearance would say, "Set your eyes upon beauty." The girls from distinguished families would say, "Set your eyes upon the family." Those with neither of these would say, "Make your decision for the sake of Heaven." What did these girls mean by telling the young men to marry them "for the sake for Heaven"? The answer is that the Gemara here is teaching us a critically important lesson about maintaining hope and faith. Some people feel confident about themselves because of their natural gifts and talents – such as appearance – and others feel confident because of their family background, because of their connections. But some people feel that they have nothing going for them, they have nothing special about them. Singles might despair because they feel they don't have what it takes to get married. People might feel anxious about their financial future because they feel they don't have what it takes to make a good living. The Gemara teaches us that nobody should ever despair because Hashem is with him, because he is committed to living לשם שמיים , for Hashem's sake. When a person begins feeling incapable or inadequate, he needs to remember that Hashem believes in him – and so he must believe in himself. The girls in the vineyards were not only talking to the boys – they were talking to themselves, saying, "I know Hashem believes in me, I know He wants me to get married, and I know that He will get me married. I believe in Him – and I believe in myself." The story is told of a couple that was married for a number of years without children, and so they contacted an organization that helps couples struggling with infertility. The fellow from the organization said he wanted to meet them in the city for lunch to discuss their situation and how the organization might be able to help. On the phone, they went through various options of places where they could get together for lunch. Growing impatient, the husband said, "Look, I need a child, not a tuna sandwich." "I know," the fellow from the organization replied, "but the point here is that Hashem can send you a child as quickly as he can send you a tuna sandwich." So often a person desperately needs something and he doesn't believe in his ability to attain it. He needs to remember that whatever it is that he needs can come as easily the food he orders at a restaurant. We should never doubt ourselves. Even when we feel we don't have what it takes, Hashem always ensures that we do.

In this compelling episode of Spiritual Leadership, host Landon Schott is joined by Pastor Andrew Sedra from Echo Church in Sydney, Australia. Together, they discuss the critical topic of civil disobedience and how to honor God while navigating oppressive government mandates. Andrew shares his experiences of facing legal challenges for opening his church during COVID-19 restrictions and highlights the importance of courage and unwavering faith in today's anti-Christian culture. The episode delves into the theological perspective on obeying government versus staying true to God's word, and practical ways for leaders to prepare for future challenges. Join Landon and Andrew as they explore what it means to be a bold and courageous spiritual leader in modern times.

In the beginning of the second chapter of Megilat Echa (2:1), the prophet Yirmiyahu bemoans, "Hishlich Mi'shamayim Eretz Tiferet Yisrael" – "He cast the glory of Israel down from the heavens to the ground." The plain meaning of this verse is that the Hurban (destruction) had the effect of lowering the Jewish People from glory to ruin. They had been in the "heavens"; they were favored, cherished and blessed by the Almighty, who resided among them in the Bet Ha'mikdash. With the Hurban, this lofty stature came crashing down to the ground, and they were now lowly and shattered. Perhaps, however, this verse could be read differently, as describing not what G-d did, but what the Jews did. The "Tiferet Yisrael," the Jews' source of glory and pride, was lowered from the "heavens" to the "ground." Our source of glory is supposed to be the Torah, the Misvot, spirituality, our service of Hashem. This is what we are to regard as our "Tiferet," our greatest source of pride, and our highest priority. But the Jews of the time lowered their "Tiferet" to the "ground" – to the realm of materialism and vanity. The "Tiferet Yisrael" – our source of pride – had been our intensive Torah learning, our devotion to Misvot, our faith and our religious commitment. But it was lowered to the "ground." People no longer took pride in spiritual commitment, and instead glorified wealth, material assets, beautiful homes, fancy clothes, luxury vacations, and their portfolios. Indeed, the Gemara (Nedarim 81a) teaches that the Bet Ha'mikdash was destroyed "She'lo Berchu Ba'Torah Tehila" – because the people of that time did not recite Birkat Ha'Torah, the Beracha before Torah learning. This means that they did not regard their Torah learning as sufficiently important to warrant a Beracha. They learned Torah, but they did not prioritize it, they didn't value it, they didn't accord it the importance it deserves. They directed their focus and the bulk of their attention toward their pursuit of wealth and material luxuries, rather than toward the service of Hashem. We find an allusion to this concept in the Torah, as well. Twice in the Torah we read harsh warnings of "Kelalot" – devastating curses that would befall Am Yisrael because of their misdeeds – once at the end of the Book of Vayikra, in Parashat Behukotai, and once toward the very end of the Torah, in Parashat Ki-Tabo. The Ramban (Rav Moshe Nahmanides, Spain, 1194-1270) posited that the first of these sections – the one in Parashat Behukotai – predicts the destruction of the first Bet Ha'mikdash, whereas the second section – in Parashat Ki-Tabo – predicts the fall of the Second Commonwealth. In Parashat Ki-Tabo, the Torah tells us the reason why G-d would bring these tragedies: "Because you did not serve Hashem your G-d with joy and with a good heart, out of an abundance of everything" (28:47). The final two words of this verse – "Me'rob Kol" ("out of an abundance of everything") – indicates that the people of the Second Temple period were plagued by excessive indulgence, by the pursuit of "an abundance of everything." This was their passion and their primary ambition, and this had the effect of compromising their service of Hashem. As we know, the Gemara (Yoma 9b) attributes the destruction of the second Bet Ha'mikdash to the sin of Sin'at Hinam – baseless hatred among the people. When we prioritize Torah and Misvot, when our attention is directed primarily at serving Hashem properly, we are less prone to jealousy, competition, and pettiness. If our priority is serving Hashem to the best of our ability, then we have relatively few reasons to fight with other people. But when our focus is on the pursuit of wealth, we are far more vulnerable to envy and hostility. We are more triggered by what other people say to us and about us, and we are more embittered by even trivial things. One of the root causes of Sin'at Hinam is "Me'rob Kol," the frantic and obsessive pursuit of wealth. Of course, the Torah does not frown upon making money and enjoying one's money. There is nothing wrong with the desire to live comfortably, or with working hard so one can afford to live comfortably. The Torah does not encourage poverty. The problem is when we turn this pursuit into "Tiferet Yisrael," our source of pride and glory, our highest priority, our primary goal in life, our ultimate objective. We must live every day with the goal of serving Hashem. Even if we devote the majority of our day to our careers or enterprises – which, as mentioned, is perfectly legitimate – our primary ambition must be Abodat Hashem, the devoted service of the Almighty. If we ensure to make this our priority, we will find ourselves living with far less jealousy, far less hostility and resentment toward other people, and far less negativity. And we will then, please G-d, become worthy of the arrival of our final redemption and the rebuilding of the Bet Ha'mikdash, speedily and in our times, Amen.

Once, as I was giving a class about the halachot of Tishah B'Av, I mentioned the law regarding work on this day – that Halachah permits working on Tishah B'Av, but the Rabbis teach that one who does so will not see blessing from his efforts. Although work is permitted, we are warned that no blessing will result from work performed on Tishah B'Av. As I was teaching this halachah , it dawned on me that Tishah B'Av is one of two days on the Jewish calendar when working is allowed but will not bring berachah , the other being Purim. I started thinking, what do these two occasions have in common? Why specifically on these days are we advised that although working is allowed, it will not bring us blessing? The answer, I believe, is that these are the two days when we are commanded to feel the "mood" of the Jewish People. Halachah teaches משנכנס אדר מרבים בשמחה – we all increase our joy when the month of Adar begins, and משנכנס אב ממעטים בשמחה – we all decrease our joy when the month of Av begins. Purim and Tishah B'Av are days marked by a national mood. Jews across the world are happy and jovial on Purim; and Jews across the world are sad and somber on Tishah B'Av. If somebody goes to work, as though it's just a normal day, he is separating himself from the Jewish People. He's too preoccupied with his own affairs to participate in the nation's joy, or in the nation's pain. And when we separate from Am Yisrael , when we're too focused on ourselves to think about the rest of the nation, there's no berachah , there's no blessing. One of the races in the Olympics every four years is the 4 X 100 meters relay. Each nation is represented in this race by four runners, each of whom runs for 100 meters and then passes the baton onto the next runner. For decades, the United States consistently won the gold medal for this race, because it has the fastest runners. More recently, however, the U.S. has had less success – not because its runners aren't as fast, but because they haven't been able to pass the baton smoothly to the next runner. As Jews, our job is not only to "run fast," to reach the finish line ourselves, but also to "pass the baton" to the people around us. Our "race" is not only individual, but national. We need to run together. And this means that we can't just be looking out for ourselves. We need to be looking out for one another. Rabbis aren't the only ones saying this. Our bitterest enemies are saying this, too. Sapir Cohen is a young woman who was captured by Hamas terrorists on October 7, 2023, and released 55 days later. She has since shared that at some point before she was freed, the terrorists who held her captive showed her the news reports on TV. She saw the vigils being held in "Hostage Square" in Tel-Aviv, attended by Israelis from all backgrounds, spanning the political spectrum. She noticed that this was not the same Israel as the country she lived in on October 6 th – a country that was bitterly divided. Her captor told her that the fierce in-fighting among Israelis before October 7 th encouraged them, the terrorists. They knew that when Israelis are fighting with one another, they are so much weaker and so much more vulnerable. They saw the fighting and felt confident that their attack could succeed. משנכנס אב ממעטים בשמחה . On Tishah B'Av, we mourn together – because we need to rebuild together. In order to recover from the hurban (destruction), in order to bring our final redemption, we need to "pass the baton" to one another. It's not enough for each person to decide what he needs to do personally, which mitzvot he needs to observe better, which personal improvements he needs to make. Of course this is very important. But we need to do more than that. We need to remember to "pass the baton," to look around at all our fellow Jews, no matter how different they are from us and from each other, and extend a hand. We need to run this race not alone, but as a nation, and this means reaching out to every fellow Jew in need and to feel closely bonded and connected to the entire Jewish Nation.

Bringing Am Yisrael Together We read in Parashat Matot of the request made by the tribes of Reuven and Gad to permanently settle in the region east of the Jordan River. Beneh Yisrael had captured this territory from the kingdoms of Sihon and Og, and Reuven and Gad – who owned lots of livestock – saw that this land had vast amounts of pasture which was well-suited for their herds. They thus approached Moshe and asked permission to make this area their permanent home instead of crossing into the Eretz Yisrael. Moshe granted their request after receiving their promise that they would participate in the battles waged by the other tribes to conquer the Land of Israel. Surprisingly, the Torah tells that when Moshe distributed this territory, he apportioned shares not only to the tribes of Reuben and Gad, but also to part of the tribe of Menashe. This tribe is not mentioned at all previously in this story. From what we can tell, the people of Menashe did not come with Reuben and Gad to Moshe to ask for this land. Why, then, did part of the tribe of Menashe receive a portion in Eber Ha'Yarden (the region to the east of the Jordan River) together with Reuben and Gad? One answer can be suggested based on a mysterious comment by the Midrash, teaching us about the background to the division of the tribe of Menashe. Back in the Book of Bereshit, we read of how Yosef's brothers sold him as a slave to merchants who brought him to Egypt, where he ultimately rose to the position of vizier. When famine struck the Land of Israel, Yosef's brothers came to purchase grain from Yosef – not realizing that this was his brother. Before they made their way back to Eretz Yisrael, Yosef ordered his advisor – whom the Midrash identifies as his son, Menashe – to plant his goblet in the bag of the youngest brother, Binyamin, to frame him as a thief. Later, after the brothers left Egypt, Yosef told Menashe to run after them and charge them with theft. When the goblet was discovered in Binyamin's bag, the brothers tore their garments, as tragedy had now befallen the family. The Midrash comments that since Menashe had caused the brothers to tear their garments into two halves, the tribe that descended from him would similarly be "torn" into two pieces, with part of the tribe residing in Eretz Yisrael, and the other part residing east of the Jordan River. At first glance, the Midrash seems to be saying that Menashe was punished for causing his uncles anguish. But if we probe deeper, we will see that to the contrary, Menashe was actually given a great privilege to split into two halves. A number of commentators explain that Yosef's intention in framing Binyamin was to determine whether his brothers had fully repented for their sin of selling him as a slave – by putting them in a situation where another younger brother would be in trouble. Yosef framed Binyamin to see if the brothers would do everything they could to save him and bring him home – just the opposite of how they treated him, driving him out of the family. As we know, Yehuda stepped forward to offer himself as a slave in Binyamin's stead, showing that the brothers had indeed fully repented and changed. At that point, Yosef revealed himself to his brothers, and the family was reunited. Menashe made the brothers rend their garments – but in so doing, he brought the family back together. This process, unfortunately, entailed the pain of "tearing," but it had the effect of mending the rupture that had plagued the family for many years. With this in mind, we can return to the story of Reuben and Gad. Moshe feared that Reuben and Gad's settlement across the river would cause a rupture in the nation. The Jordan River was a natural border that could have divided the nation into two, resulting in Reuben and Gad's dissociation from the rest of the nation. Moshe therefore devised a plan – he would have half of one of the other tribes live together with Reuben and Gad across the river. Having half of a tribe on one side, and the second half on the other side, would help ensure that the river would not become a border separating between the two regions, that there would be ongoing contact and communication between the tribes in Eretz Yisrael and the tribes in Eber Ha'Yarden. For this crucial purpose, Moshe selected the tribe of Menashe – the tribe whose ancestor is credited with bringing the family together. Menashe had bequeathed this quality to his descendants, and so they were the best choice to ensure that Am Yisrael remains united despite the geographic separation between them. Just as Menashe had united the family by planting the goblet in Binyamin's bag, so would his descendants assure the unity of the Jewish Nation by living on both sides of the Jordan River and connecting all the tribes with each other.

We've all had the experience of being at a sebet or some other function, standing near the dessert tables, when a child pushes us away in a frantic rush to get to his favorite treats. Would we say that this kid is selfish? That this kid doesn't care about other people? I wouldn't say that. This kid might not necessarily be selfish. He's just clueless. He is thinking so intently about the piece of cake or the cookies on the table, that he does not realize that he's shoving the people in his way. This kind of behavior is not limited to kids. Parents of married children frequently find themselves being the victims of "cluelessness." Their married child comes over with the kids, they make themselves at home, the kids play with the toys, food is prepared and fed – and then they leave, not realizing that the toys are scattered all over the place, the sinks are full of dirty dishes, and of course the highchair is filthy… The young couple isn't selfish. They're just clueless. They're just not paying attention. They're focused on taking care of their kids, so they're not thinking about their parents… Another example is rubbernecking. Sometimes we're sitting in traffic, inching forward for a half-hour wondering what's causing the jam. Finally, we see what happened: there was an accident on the other side of the highway – but everyone on our side feels the need to slow down and look to see what happened. When a driver slows down to look, he doesn't think to himself that he's delaying the hundreds of people driving behind him. Parashat Maseh talks about cluelessness. It addresses the situation of a רוצח בשוגג , somebody who killed another person by accident. If this happened due to circumstances beyond one's control, then he is not punished at all. But if there was some negligence involved, then he is required to move out of his town and relocate in a specially-designated city called an עיר מקלט (city of refuge) in order to earn atonement. The Rambam gives a number of examples of the kind of cases that require a person to move to an עיר מקלט . One is if he's climbing down a ladder, and he falls and kills someone. Another is if he is lowering a heavy object from a roof or window with a rope, and it slips, falls and kill someone. If we are involved in activities that are potentially dangerous, we can't be clueless. No matter how good our hearts are, and regardless of the fact that we would never in a million years think to hurt somebody – we are still guilty if we are not paying attention, if we are not opening our eyes and our minds to consider how our actions are impacting other people. King Shlomo, in a pasuk in Mishleh (10:13), speaks about this phenomenon of cluelessness: בשפתי נבון תמצא חכמה ושבט לגו חסר לב – "Wisdom can be found in the lips of the wise, and a rod shall strike the body of he who lacks heart." The Malbim describes a חסר לב this way: מי שאין לו הנהגה כלל, ונהג תמיד כפי שעולה על רוחו לפי שעה פעם כה ופעם כה . This means a person without discipline, who always acts on impulse, however he feels like it at any given moment. Such a person needs a שבט לגו – a rod striking his body – to wake him up, to get him to be alert and mindful. In virtually every family, there's that one person who shows up late to every Shabbat or holiday meal they're invited to. Showing up late is another example of a חסר לב , of someone who just doesn't think, who is clueless. He doesn't consider the fact that a whole group of people are sitting around and waiting because of him. Let's all try to move from cluelessness to attentiveness, from thoughtlessness to thoughtfulness, from mindlessness to mindfulness. It might be tempting to act כפי שעולה על רוחו לפי שעה , the way we happen to feel at the moment, without giving too much thought to what we're doing, but this is not how we're supposed to live. We are supposed to be mindful and to pay attention to what we're doing, to take other people into the equation, to make sure that our actions are bringing joy and blessing to the people around us, and not, Heaven forbid, the opposite.

Parashat Pinhas tells the story of Benot Selofhad – the five daughters of a man named Selofhad, who died in the wilderness leaving behind only these five daughters, without any sons. As Beneh Yisrael were preparing to enter the Land of Israel, these women approached Moshe and asked that they inherit the portion in the land that had been earmarked for Selofhad. Moshe consulted with Hashem, who informed him that indeed, when there are no sons, a person's daughters inherit his estate. The Torah introduces this story by identifying Selofhad as "Selofhad, the son of Hefer, the son of Gilad, the son of Machir, the son of Menashe, from among the families of Menashe, the son of Yosef" (27:1). Rashi raises the question of why the Torah found it necessary to mention Yosef in this context. We are, quite obviously, already well-aware of the fact that Menashe was one of the two sons of Yosef. Why are we reminded about Yosef in the introduction to the story of Benot Selofhad? Rashi answers that the Torah wanted to draw an association between these five women and their righteous ancestor, Yosef, whose legacy their carried through their love for the Land of Israel. Yosef made his brothers promise before his passing that they would bring his remains to Eretz Yisrael for burial, out of his deep love for Eretz Yisrael. And his descendants – Benot Selofhad – similarly displayed their commitment to Eretz Yisrael by approaching Moshe and imploring him to give them their father's portion of the land. Later commentators questioned how Rashi saw in Benot Selofhad's request an expression of love for the Land of Israel. Seemingly, they just wanted property; they give no indication that they longed specifically for a portion of Eretz Yisrael. Imagine a youngster is participating in a program and the people running the program are serving pizza and nothing else. If the youngster comes forward and asks for a slice of pizza, does this necessarily show his love for pizza? Of course not. He's hungry and wants food, and pizza is the food that's being served. By the same token, it seems, Benot Selofhad simply wanted property. How did Rashi know that Selofhad's daughters felt special love for Eretz Yisrael? One answer given is that Rashi inferred this from the timing of the request. Selofhad died many years earlier, yet his daughters came forward to claim their inheritance rights only now, as the nation prepared to cross into the Land of Israel. They did not ask for any of Selofhad's possessions throughout all the years after his passing. He undoubtedly had valuable assets, but this did not concern them. The fact that they approached Moshe only now, on the cusp of Beneh Yisrael's arrival in the land, shows that they felt a special connection to Eretz Yisrael, following the legacy of their illustrious ancestor, Yosef. The Netziv (Rav Naftali Tzvi Yehuda Berlin of Volozhin, 1816-1893) offers a different explanation. As mentioned earlier, Selofhad was a grandson of Gilad, the son of Machir. Later (Bamidbar 32:40), we read that the family of Machir was given a portion in Eber Ha'Yarden – the territory east of the Jordan River – as their permanent area of residence. Selofhad, as a member of this family, should thus have had rights to a piece of land in this region, and not in Eretz Yisrael. His daughters, however, asked that they be given a share not in Eber Ha'Yarden, but in the Land of Israel. They would not have been satisfied with territory in the region settled by the Machir family. Due to their great love for the Land of Israel, they insisted on receiving land in Eretz Yisrael instead of the region settled by their father's family – and Rashi thus understood that they, as loyal heirs of Yosef, shared his special love and commitment to the sacred land that Hashem has given us.

A fellow who works with a certain hesed organization in Lakewood told me that they were once helping the family of a woman who was gravely ill. Her friends and neighbors wanted to know which mitzvot they could do as a merit for her recovery, so people from the organization traveled with the woman and her husband to South Fallsburg, to consult with Rav Elya Ber Wachtfogel, one of the great Rosheh Yeshiva in America today. Rav Wachtfogel's answer was very surprising. He didn't mention things like Shabbat, kashrut , modesty, or lashon ha'ra (though it goes without saying that these are all exceedingly important). Instead, he noted that everyone – without exception – has a little bit of " nebuch " within them. This means that everyone feels insecure or "messed up" in some way. For some people it's their appearance. For others it's some religious struggle that they just can't seem to overcome and they're embarrassed about. For some it's finances, having less than the people around them. For some it's a child, several children, or some other issue going on in the family. We all have something that makes us feel uneasy about ourselves, that makes us feel like a " hazit ," like we're a failure. "What you should be working on," the Rosh Yeshiva said, "is encouraging people, lifting them up, emphasizing their strengths, letting them know how much goodness they have inside them." This was his suggestion for a zechut (merit) for the ill patient. Parashat Pinhas continues the story that began to be told in the previous parashah , about the time when the men of Beneh Yisrael became involved with the women of other nations. At one point, a man named Zimri, who led the tribe of Shimon, publicly took a non-Jewish woman into a private place. The Torah says that the people felt helpless, and just cried. Then Pinhas arose and killed the violators, bringing an abrupt end to the deadly plague that Hashem had sent to punish the people. In the beginning of our parashah , Hashem tells Moshe that He would be rewarding Pinhas בקנאו את קנאתי בתוכם – because he acted zealously for Hashem בתוכם – "among them," in the midst of the nation (25:11). Different explanations have been given for why Hashem emphasized that Pinhas performed this act בתוכם , among the people. But one particularly meaningful answer is offered by Rav Moshe Sternbuch. He writes that before Pinhas acted, he was just בתוכם , one of the people. He did not stand out in any way. There was nothing exceptional about him. He was just another Jew. But this did not deter him. He saw a need – and so he arose to fill that need. He wasn't discouraged by his "ordinariness." He didn't say to himself, "I'm a nobody, there's nothing I can do." He knew what had to be done, and he did it. Of course, Pinhas' situation was unique, and this kind of zealotry is not an example that we are supposed to follow. But the lesson of בתוכם is timeless and extremely important. Baruch Hashem , our community has grown over the years, and may it continue to do so. Like all great blessings, this blessing of growth presents some challenges – one of which is the challenge of בתוכם . As our community has grown, individuals become in their eyes smaller and less significant. In the past, it was relatively easy to sense that each of us made a difference, that each of us was needed in some way. But now, with the community so large, many people – especially youngsters – feel בתוכם , that they're just ordinary folks with nothing special to offer, with no special role to fill. As Rav Wachtfogel said, we need to encourage and uplift one another. Parents need to impress upon their children that they have exceptional gifts and talents that our community, and the Jewish world, need. Spouses should be encouraging one another to excel and achieve. But perhaps most importantly, we need to encourage ourselves and to stop putting ourselves down. We have to stop feeling " nebuch " and ordinary. Yes, we have our issues, our struggles, our flaws and our faults, and yes, we've all made mistakes. But this does not mean that we don't have the potential for greatness. We need to recognize our potential and, like Pinhas, seize the opportunities to shine. Let's stop being afraid, being embarrassed, and being insecure – and let's start living with self-confidence and with the firm belief that we are capable of doing great things, and that we have been brought here into the world to do great things.

We are Different Parashat Balak tells of how Balak, the king of Moab, summoned Bilam and hired him to place a curse on Beneh Yisrael so they would be annihilated. The plan backfired, as G-d repeatedly forced Balak to bless Beneh Yisrael, instead. Bilam began his first blessing by noting that Balak brought him from his homeland, Aram, for the purpose of cursing Beneh Yisrael (23:7). We must ask, why is this detail important? Of what significance is it that Bilam was brought to Moab specifically from the region of Aram? A deep answer to this question was suggested by Rav David Tevel of Minsk (1794-1861), in his work Nahalat David. He explains that Balak's scheme was not at all rash or haphazard; it was very carefully devised and crafted. Balak explored the origins of this nation – Beneh Yisrael – by whom he felt so threatened, and he discovered that they originated from Aram Naharayim. It was there where Abraham Abinu was raised, and from where the family later journeyed toward the Land of Israel. Balak figured that his best chance to destroy Am Yisrael would be by finding someone with the same origins, another person from Aram. As we know, the greatest pain that can inflicted upon someone is from somebody close to him. (Thus, for example, an insult from an immediate family member hurts far more than an insult from somebody who is not part of the family. And an insult from a community member hurts far more than an insult from a total stranger.) Balak thought that if he could bring somebody from Aram to oppose and inflict harm upon Beneh Yisrael, this would be their undoing. His strategy was to bring someone from Aram, an "insider," who could bring Beneh Yisrael down. However, the Nahalat David explains, Balak made a grave mistake. He did not realize that although Abraham indeed grew up in Aram, he had since been completely detached from his background. When G-d first spoke to Abraham, He commanded him to leave his country, his birthplace, and his father's home (Bereshit 12:1) – referring to not simply geographical relocation, but to complete dissociation from his past. Abraham's move to Eretz Yisrael constituted a clean break from his family background, the start of something completely new. The Nahalat David explains that this is why Abraham and Sara were naturally unable to beget children, and they produced a child through a miracle. The establishment of Am Yisrael marked the creation of an entirely new line, with no biological connection to Abraham and Sara's family background. This is also why Abraham and Sara's names were changed – from Abram to Abraham, and from Sarai to Sara – to indicate that they underwent a fundamental transformation and rebirths. Indeed, Bilam pronounces in his first blessing, "For from the top of rocks I see them, and I look upon them from the hills" (23:9). Rashi writes that this refers to the Abot (patriarchs) and Imahot (matriarchs). Bilam was saying that Beneh Yisrael are rooted in greatness, stemming from their sacred, righteous ancestors, and thus cannot be cursed. The Nahalat David explains that Bilam was observing that Beneh Yisrael's roots extend no further than the Abot and Imahot. They do not trace their lineage back to Abraham's parents and forebears – because they are a fundamentally new and distinct entity, bearing no connection at all to Abraham's origins in Aram. As the verse continues, "Hen Am Le'badad Yishkon U'ba'goyim Lo Yit'hashab" – "Behold, they are a nation that dwells alone, and is not reckoned among the other nations." The "genes" of Aram, so-to-speak, never made it to Avraham Avinu's descendants. They have no attachment to any other people, and so Balak's plan was doomed to fail already from the outset. The Jewish People are different, and we are meant to be different. Beliefs, values and lifestyles that are accepted and popular among other nations are not necessarily acceptable to us. The things that the surrounding society prioritizes and celebrates are not necessarily for us to prioritize or celebrate. We must always live with a sense of "Am Le'badad Yishkon" – that we dwell alone, with our own traditions, our own beliefs, and our own way of life.

Balak, the man for whom this parashah is named, was very worried. As were the people in his kingdom, Moav. The Torah tells that Balak saw Beneh Yisrael 's conquest of the bordering territories of Sihon and Og. These two kingdoms attacked Beneh Yisrael , who fought back and captured their lands. Balak was scared that Beneh Yisrael would do the same to him. The people of Moav were so frightened, the Torah adds, that ויקץ מואב מפני בני ישראל – they were "disgusted" by Beneh Yisrael (22:3). Rashi explains: קצו בחייהם – they were fed up with their lives because of Beneh Yisrael . The fear was so overwhelming and so debilitating that they hated their lives. The irony is that Beneh Yisrael gave no indication whatsoever that they intended to wage war against Moav. They conquered the territory of Sihon and Og only after these kingdoms attacked them unprovoked; at no point did they express their desire to initiate hostilities. Moreover – Hashem explicitly commanded Beneh Yisrael not to wage war against Moav (Devarim 2:9). They could not have attacked Moav even if they wanted to! Moav's fear, I believe, is an example of the kind of gloom that afflicts so many of us. People walk around with this fear of the unknown, envisioning in their minds all the things that could go wrong. They see and hear things going on in the world, and they can't help but ask themselves, "What's going to be? What's going to be with the economy? What's going to be with our country? What's going to be in Israel? What's going to be with our youth? What's going to be with the spiritual challenges we face in our era of technology? In our personal lives, too, we sometimes can't help but worry about finances, our children, and other questions about our future. Like Moav, people sometimes reach the point of קצו בחייהם , where they are "disgusted" with their lives, because they worry so much about what will happen. But also like Moav, they are worrying and ruining their lives unnecessarily. King Shlomo teaches us in Mishleh (10:16): פעלת צדיק לחיים – "The activity of the righteous person is for life..." The Malbim explains that the word פעולה refers to the work a person does, the process, irrespective of the outcome. When a tzadik acts, the work itself is "life," is valuable and gratifying, regardless of whether it produces the desired result. The righteous person understands that Hashem controls the world, that He and only He determines the outcome, and so our job is the פעולה , to live the right way, to do the right thing, to make our effort. The tzadik does not ask "What's going to be?" – because he trusts that Hashem will take care of everything. The only thing that tzadik asks is "What do I need to do? How do I need to live? What's the best way for me to achieve today?" I once addressed a large group of single girls. I told them that I was not letting them out of the room until they promised me that they would never see a married girl their age or younger and say to themselves, "She's better than me." I made them promise that they would never think that there's anything wrong with them, that they were not yet married because they're not good-looking enough, not smart enough, not rich enough, or not from a good enough family. As long as they're doing their best, and working hard to live the right way, there is nothing at all wrong with them. Hashem decides the outcome; we just do our best. This should be our mindset in all areas of life. We need to live with the confidence that Hashem is running the world, that the outcome depends entirely on Him. We do this by focusing on the פעולה , on the process, on the things we can control –our behavior and our decisions – and leaving the results to Hashem. The opposite of קצו בחייהם is פעולת צדיק לחיים . If we want to feel happy, confident and upbeat, we need to focus on the פעולה , on living the right way, and to stop asking "What's going to be?"

In this episode, Pastor Dennis Cummins, Pastor Andrew Sedra, and Pastor Noleen Sedra of Experience Church engage in a candid discussion about the growing influence of Islam in Western societies. They explore the cultural and spiritual implications of this shift and why many are hesitant to address it openly.

In this episode, I sit down with Ps Noleen Sedra to expose the demonic roots of modern culture, from the blood sacrifice of abortion to the deception of feminism. We confront what the world calls "empowerment" and reveal what the Bible ACTUALLY says about a woman's role, her design, and her dignity.

Parashat Hukat tells the famous story of Meh Meriba – Moshe Rabbenu's sin of striking the rock to produce water after G-d had instructed him to speak to the rock. Hashem punished Moshe, decreeing that he would not have the privilege of entering the Land of Israel along with the rest of the nation. Numerous different approaches have been taken to explain the nature of Moshe Rabbenu's mistake, and to answer the question of how Moshe, the greatest prophet who ever lived, a man of such towering spiritual stature, could have disobeyed G-d's explicit command to speak to the rock. A particularly fascinating explanation is offered by the Hatam Sofer (Rav Moshe Sofer of Pressburg, 1762-1839), who notes a mysterious nuance in G-d's command to produce water by speaking to the rock. Hashem said to Moshe, "You shall speak to the rock and it shall give forth its water, and you shall bring water for them out of the rock…" (20:8). Surprisingly, Hashem here twice mentions the production of water: 1) "and it shall give forth its water"; 2) "and you shall bring water for them out of the rock." It seems that Moshe was to extract water from the rock in two different stages through his speech. The Hatam Sofer solves this mystery based on the conclusion of this verse: "Ve'hishkita Et Ha'eda U'be'iram" – "you shall give water to drink for the congregation and their animals." The rock was to produce two streams of water – one for the people, and one of their animals. The Hatam Sofer explains that throughout the forty years which Beneh Yisrael spent in the wilderness, they ate heavenly food – the manna – but drank ordinary water. This water was provided through supernatural means – a well which miraculously traveled with them, in the merit of Miriam, Moshe's righteous sister – but the water was ordinary water. The manna originated from the heavens, and was spiritual food, whereas the water itself was no different from regular water that the people were accustomed to drinking. But now, as Beneh Yisrael were entering the final stage of their sojourn through the wilderness, they were ready to be brought to an especially high spiritual level. To this end, Moshe was to speak special words of Torah and prayers to the rock so it would produce a special kind of water – spiritual water, the liquid equivalent of the manna, that would uplift the people to great heights. This explains why the Torah speaks of two kinds of water. Moshe's words were to cause the rock to pour forth a stream of spiritual water for the people, and a second stream of regular water for their animals. Moshe, however, was afraid of producing this special spiritual water for the people. He feared that if they would then sin after having ingested this water, this would be unforgivable. Once they would reach such lofty spiritual heights, any failure would be deemed an especially grave transgression, and they might, Heaven forbid, be severely punished. It was thus out of compassion that Moshe struck the rock instead of speaking to it. He exclaimed, "Listen, O rebellious ones – shall I bring water for you out of this rock?!" (20:10). He was, in essence, telling the people, "I know you will in the future be rebellious – I therefore cannot produce the spiritual water for you." He instead struck the rock and produced regular water, which both the people and their animals drank, as implied by the verse, "Va'tesht Ha'eda U'be'iram" ("The congregation and their animals drank" – 20:11). When the Torah tells of Hashem informing Moshe and Aharon of their punishment for disobeying, it refers to Hashem with the Name of "Havaya," which is associated with G-d's attribute of compassion. This indicates that G-d's anger was tempered by compassion – because Moshe acted as he did out of genuine love and concern for Beneh Yisrael. He did not, Heaven forbid, intend to disrespect G-d's authority by disregarding His command. Rather, he was overcome by sincere love for the people, and wanted to protect them. For a towering Sadik of Moshe Rabbenu's stature, this was considered a sin. For us, though, the story of Meh Meriba provides us with an example of unbridled Ahabat Yisrael – love for our fellow Jews. In this specific instance, Moshe's love for His people resulted in his doing something which G-d disapproved of. But we can only wish to have the same level of Ahabat Yisrael as Moshe Rabbenu. We are to follow this example of genuine, heartfelt concern for each and every one of our fellow Jews, to the point where we are willing to do whatever we can to help them.

I recall once seeing a couple, whom I had married, on the street several months after their wedding, and I was struck by how exuberant they looked. They were so happy with each other; they were both glowing, exuding genuine joy and exhiliration. In my mind I expressed the wish that all married couples should enjoy the bliss that this young newlywed couple enjoyed. Just a couple of months later, the father of one of them informed me that the couple was divorcing. It didn't work out. There is a couple out-of-town whom I had gotten to know well over the years. They are wealthy and successful, and have beautiful children. They seem to have everything in life that a person could ever want. But then, at one point, out of the blue, the wife called me – and then the husband, separately – both expressing to me that they're wondering if it's worth staying together. They said they were so miserable in their marriage. These stories are just two examples of a basic truth that we need to know: everyone, without exception, is struggling with something, even if it seems like their lives are perfect. And most people are struggling with several things. We don't realize it, because everyone is putting on a show. Everybody wants to make it appear that his or her life is perfectly in order, and everything is fine. But the truth is that there nobody who can say that everything is fine. We all have problems. It's part of life. Countless studies have shown the damage being caused by social media, as people – especially youngsters – spend hours a day looking at others who seem to be perfect. They see Instagram pictures and videos of their peers having a great time, and they feel that only they're struggling, only they have problems. And this causes a great deal of pain and anxiety. This phenomenon might help explain an episode in Parashat Hukat. Beneh Yisrael find themselves without water, and they complain. They come to Moshe and Aharon and ask why they had brought them into the desert, which is "not a place of seeds, of figs or grapes or pomegranates, and there is no water to drink" (20:5). The people don't have water – but they're complaining also about not having figs, grapes and pomegranates. Why? If a person doesn't have water, does it matter to him that he doesn't have nice fruits to eat? The answer might be that Beneh Yisrael weren't just complaining about the water situation. They were bothered that other nations lived "normal" lives, planting and growing food, while they have been spending forty years in the desert. They wanted to be like everyone else. Their running out of water highlighted the fact that they were not living a normal existence like other people. And this is what bothered them. The first human being, as we know, was called אדם , a name derived from the word אדמה – ground – which is where he originated from. If we punctuate the word אדמה (" adama ") differently, we arrive at " adameh " – "I will resemble." Because there are two ways a person can live his life – he can live a life of " adameh ," of trying to be like other people, trying to have what they have, or he can live a life of " adama ," like the ground, where seeds grow into beautiful plants, trees, flowers and produce. Meaning, we have a choice to make: we can either be bogged down comparing ourselves to other people, or we can grow. Comparing ourselves to other people stifles us. It creates insecurity and anxiety, and causes us to waste our time and energy pursuing things which we don't need and which aren't right for us. Once we stop comparing, we can start growing. We can focus on what we need to do, on who we are supposed to be, on achieving all that we are meant to achieve. And once we live this way, with our focus on growth instead of comparing, life becomes so much more beautiful, so much more productive, and so much more fulfilling.

The modern church is in crisis—and no one wants to talk about it. In this episode, we expose how progressive Christianity and LGBTQ ideology have quietly taken over pulpits, redefining truth and leaving a trail of broken families in the name of love and tolerance. If you're Gen Z and you've ever felt like something's off with how culture and faith collide—you're not crazy. You're being called to stand. 

 In a culture where silence often feels safe, Pastor Andrew Sedra calls us to boldly speak the truth—not for applause, but because truth matters. What one generation tolerates, the next celebrates. If we don't speak now, compromise will become culture.Bottom Line:If you don't speak truth, the world will redefine it.

In today's culture, the spirit of Babylon distorts what God made holy—marriage, gender, and identity—to serve false gods. This sermon unpacks how these sacred truths are being twisted and how believers must respond with boldness, clarity, and grace.Bottom line: What God sets apart, the world tries to tear apart—but truth still stands.

Andrew Sedra is the Lead Pastor and Founder of Echo Church in Sydney, Australia. Originally from Egypt, Andrew has personally experienced life in a Muslim society and is dedicated to combating the rise of Islam in the West. He has garnered an international reputation for boldly and unapologetically proclaiming the truth and standing against secularism, Islam, and LGBT ideology. Andrew joins Ryan to explain how Islam and secularism have joined forces to defeat Christianity in the Western world - and share his insights into how we can fight back - and WIN

The Torah begins the story of Korah's brazen uprising against Moshe Rabbenu by introducing him as "Korah, son of Yitzhar, son of Kehat, son of Levi." Rashi notes that the Torah traces Korah's genealogy back to Levi, but it stopped there, without going one generation further, mentioning "the son of Yaakob." This was done, Rashi explains, in fulfillment of Yaakob Abinu's request before his passing. In Yaakob's parting words to his sons, when he addressed Shimon and Levi, he proclaimed, "Bi'khalam Al Tehad Kebodi" – that his honor should not be associated with their "congregation" (Bereshit 49:6). This refers to the "congregation" assembled by Korah for the purpose of challenging the authority of Moshe Rabbenu. Yaakob did not want his name mentioned in the context of this sinful uprising, and so the Torah identified Korah only as "son of Yitzhar, son of Kehat, son of Levi," without adding, "son of Yaakob." Several later scholars addressed the obvious problem with Rashi's comments – his assumption that the Torah should have traced Korah's lineage all the way back to Yaakob. Rashi says that the Torah would have mentioned also "son of Yaakob" if not for Yaakob's request that his name be omitted – but why would Yaakob's name have needed to be mentioned? For that matter, why did the Torah bother tracing Korah's lineage even back to Levi? The Torah already presented the genealogy of the tribe of Levi, back in the Book of Shemot (6), and Korah's family background is included there. Why did the Torah go through the trouble of telling us that Korah was the "son of Yitzhar, the son of Kehat, the son of Levi," and why would it have added also "son of Yaakob" if Yaakob hadn't asked not to be mentioned? A fascinating answer is given by the Maharal of Prague (Rav Yehuda Loew, 1512-1609), in his Gur Aryeh. He explains that the Torah wanted to emphasize the extent of Korah's evil in launching this uprising against Moshe, by noting his distinguished lineage. Korah himself was a prominent member of the nation, among those who carried the ark during travel, but also descended from outstanding Sadikim – Yitzhar, Kehat, Levi, and the patriarchs. Of course, Korah's revolt would have been a grievous sin no matter who he was, but his prominent family background made it particularly severe. This is why the Torah made a point of mentioning his distinguished, righteous predecessors – and would have gone as far as mentioning also Yaakob Abinu, except that Yaakob asked that his name be omitted from this context. The Maharal's explanation brings to mind an insight of the Maggid of Dubna (1741-1804) regarding a verse in Parashat Behukotai (26:42). This verse appears in the section known as the "Tocheha," where G-d warns of the dreadful calamities that He would bring upon Beneh Yisrael as punishment for their misdeeds. G-d in this verse proclaims that He would remember the covenant He made with the patriarchs. It seems that He is now offering consolation, emphasizing that despite His anger, and although He would be punishing the people, He would nevertheless have compassion due to His covenant with the Abot. However, the next verse then continues the description of the exile that the Jewish People would suffer on account of their sins – indicating that the comforting conclusion of the Tocheha has not yet begun. The Maggid of Dubna thus explains that in this verse, G-d warns the people that their wrongdoing is exceptionally severe because of whom they descend from – the sacred patriarchs, with whom Hashem made a special covenant. As heirs of this covenant, and members of this special nation, their misdeeds are considered graver. The Maggid draws an analogy to two people who committed the same minor misdemeanor – a prince, and a poor peasant. The peasant is sentenced to several weeks of prison, whereas the prince is handed a ten-year jail sentence. The reason is that the prince's offense is far more grievous due to his family background, because he is the king's son, a member of the royal family. We, Am Yisrael, must live with this awareness, that we are royalty, that we are "princes," the children of Abraham, Yishak and Yaakob. As members of the "royal family," who have received and studied the Torah, which instructs us how to live a "regal" lifestyle, more is expected of us than of other people. We are bidden to maintain the high standards demanded of Hashem's special nation who represent Him to the rest of the world, and always strive to be worthy of this unique privilege.

You Might Not Be Right… Korach was so sure he was right. Rashi (16:7) writes that what led Korach to foolishly challenge Moshe Rabbenu, to start a fight that resulted in his death and many other deaths, was, ironically enough, his רוח הקודש – his prophetic vision. He saw – correctly – that he would have prominent descendants, such as the prophet Shmuel. And so he decided that he must be the rightful leader already now, in the desert, in place of Moshe. Korach backed up his claims with arguments that sounded pretty convincing. The Midrash teaches that Korach won support for his cause by telling the story of a poor widow with two young daughters, who had a small field from which to make a living. She started plowing the field with her ox and donkey, but then Moshe told her about the command forbidding plowing with two different species of animal. When she started planting, Moshe told her about the command forbidding planting different species together. When she started harvesting the field, Moshe told her about the command to leave certain portions for the poor and to give certain portions to the kohanim and leviyim . Exasperated, she decided to sell her field and purchase sheep, instead. Aharon later came to take the sheep's firstborn, as well the first portion of wool sheared from it, as required by the Torah. The woman and her daughters stood there and cried. If I was told this story at a Shabbat table, I would have probably been convinced that Korach was right and Moshe was wrong. This sounds so just, so noble, a cause that is truly לשם שמיים , for the sake of Hashem. But of course it wasn't. This was all about jealousy. If Korach had been honest with himself, he would have acknowledged that this fight was not about fairness, and not about his righteous descendants. This was about himself, his ego, his lust for honor and prestige. He fooled himself – and his supporters – into thinking that he was waging a noble battle, that he was doing the right thing, that he was fighting against injustice. But in truth, he was fighting for his selfish, egotistical concerns. Let us all ask ourselves honestly: have we ever made this same mistake? Have we ever gotten involved in a fight or controversy, thinking with certainty that we were right, that we were fighting for a noble, holy cause? And if we have, did we stop to think clearly and objectively about our true motives? Did we consider that maybe we weren't really right, that we were being selfish and petty? The Gemara tells that one of the leading participants in Korach's uprising – a man named On ben Pelet – ended up backing out, thanks to his wife. She told him that this idea was silly. Even if Korach's side wins, she said, he – On ben Pelet – would be under Korach's authority instead of Moshe's. What would he gain from that? We all need people in our lives like On ben Pelet's wife – somebody who could help us think objectively and rationally. When we find ourselves in a fight, or part of a controversy, it helps to have somebody who can tell us that we're wrong, that we're being foolish, that this fight is not worth it – and we have to be willing to listen. Next time we feel like fighting, like joining some campaign against somebody, let's stop and think clearly and honestly. Let's ask ourselves if we are really being sincere, if this fight is really the right thing to do, and if this fight is really worth it. If we do this, we will spare ourselves a lot of heartache and a lot of wasted emotional energy, and we will be able to focus on the things that really matter, on being productive, on working hard to achieve to the best of our ability.

Parashat Shelah tells the famous story of the Meragelim – the twelve spies sent by Moshe to see the Land of Israel and report back to the nation. Unfortunately, ten of the twelve spies betrayed their mission, frightening the people and convincing them not to proceed into the land. In telling this story, the Torah makes a point of mentioning that during the spies' excursion through the land, they cut a vine with a cluster of grapes, and they brought it back to the people to show them a sample of the land's fruit (13:23). This appears to have been a very significant act – for in the next verse, the Torah tells that the spies named that location "Nahal Eshkol" – "the Valley of the Cluster," commemorating this cluster of grapes. We must wonder, why was this particular act worthy of such commemoration? Why did the spies consider this such a significant event that they found it necessary to memorialize it by changing the location's name? A closer examination of the text reveals yet another difficulty. The Torah tells that this area was renamed to commemorate "the cluster that Beneh Yisrael cut from there." Curiously, the Torah speaks of "Beneh Yisrael" taking this cluster grapes, when in truth only twelve members of the nation – the twelve spies – performed this act. Why? The answer emerges from the comments of the Seforno (Rav Ovadia Seforno, Italy, 1475-1550) in explaining Moshe's instruction that the spies should bring fruit from Eretz Yisrael (13:20). The Seforno writes that this act functioned as a Halachic "Hazaka" – display of ownership. When a person purchases land, the property Halachically enters his possession in one of three ways – the transfer of money to the seller, receiving from the seller a deed of sale, or performing an act of "Hazaka" whereby he demonstratively establishes ownership over the property. A "Hazaka" can take on several different forms, such as erecting a fence around the property, and performing agricultural work in the land. According to Seforno, this was the purpose of the spies' seizing fruit from Eretz Yisrael. This was intended not simply to bring the people a sample of the land's exceptional, high-quality produce, but also to formally take possession of the Land of Israel. Hashem was giving this land to Beneh Yisrael – but they needed to perform an act of acquisition to establish their ownership. This is the significance of the severing of a vine. Quite understandably, then, this was a very significant act that was worth commemorating, as it marked the point when we formally took possession of our homeland. And, this explains why the Torah speaks of "Beneh Yisrael" cutting the vine – because the spies performed this act as representatives of the entire nation, who thereby collectively became owners over the Land of Israel. This was the moment when the Jewish People established their eternal ownership over our beloved land.

Parashat Shelah is famous for the story of the meraglim – the spies sent by Moshe Rabbenu to scout the land. They returned with a frightening report, insisting that Beneh Yisrael were incapable of capturing the country, and convincing them not to proceed to the land. The nation accepted their report, and wept. Hashem severely punished the people, keeping them in the desert for forty years until that entire generation perished. Interestingly, the first words the meragelim said about the land were very positive, and even sound enthusiastic: באנו אל הארץ אשר שלחתנו, וגם זבת חלב ודבש היא... We came to the land you sent us to, and it is indeed flowing with milk and honey… (13:27) After this brief word of praise for the quality of the land, the spies then told the people that they could not possibly capture it, and that it was not even worth capturing. Rashi explains that the spies began with praising the land because a lie is credible only if it includes some truth. The spies needed to start with the truth – that the land is "flowing with milk and honey" – in order to lay the groundwork for the lies they wanted to spread. But others explain differently. The spies were telling the people that the Land of Israel was so good, so desirable, that they should have expected many surrounding nations to want to take it over. Yet, nobody did. The reason, the spies claimed, is that the nations in Eretz Yisrael were too powerful for anyone to dare launch an attack. Thus, the spies' positive words were actually part of their negativity. They took the great blessing of the Land of Israel and turned it on its head, making a complaint out of it. I'm sorry to say this – but this is something that we're all guilty of. A person is invited to a wedding, and complains about the inconvenient time, the hassle of having to get dressed, find a babysitter, make the trip, buy a gift, and so on. Two weeks later, that same person is talking to a friend who is going to another wedding, and responds, "What? I wasn't invited?!" This sounds silly, but we all do this in one form or another. We all complain about our blessings. We complain about our spouse, our kids, our house, our jobs, our rabbi, our community, etc. etc. etc. These are all wonderful blessings, but we complain, because our lives aren't perfect. What we don't realize is that our lives aren't supposed to be perfect. But they're supposed to be appreciated and enjoyed. And in order to appreciate and enjoy them, we need to stop complaining about our many blessings. Earlier in the parashah (13:26), the Torah says about the spies, וילכו ויבואו – "They went and they came." Rashi, based on the Gemara, comments that this pasuk alludes to the fact that the spies' departure to scout the land was similar to their return from their spy mission. Just as they returned with the intention of convincing the people not to proceed to the Land of Israel, they had initially embarked on their mission with that same intention. What Rashi is saying is that the spies' negativity was not triggered by what they saw during their mission in the land. It's not as though they left with a positive attitude and were then discouraged by the things they observed. They set out with a negative mindset, and so they turned everything they saw into a complaint, into something terrible. This is what we need to stop doing. We need to stop turning our blessings into complaints. So many parents of engaged daughters complain about the hassle and costs of making a wedding. So many people with a summer home in Deal complain about the hassle and costs of moving in for the summer and maintaining their homes. So many people who can afford luxury vacations complain about the hassle and costs of air travel. Do they hear themselves? Do they realize how silly they sound complaining about these wonderful blessings? Let's all stop complaining about our many blessings, so we can, once and for all, fully enjoy them.

Counter Culture | Speak Truth to Power! | Pastor Andrew Sedra

We read in Parashat Behaalotecha of the formal consecration of the Leviyim as G-d's special servants who would work in the Mishkan. This process included the offering of sacrifices – specifically, one bull as an Ola (burnt-offering), and a second bull as a Hatat (sin-offering). Rav Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev (1740-1809), in his work Kedushat Levi, notes that pair of sacrifices are listed in two different sequences in this section. When the Torah first mentions the requirement to bring two bulls, it mentions first the Ola, followed by the Hatat (8:8). Later, however, in describing the procedure to be followed for the process of consecration, G-d commands Moshe to offer the Hatat and then the Ola (8:2). Rav Levi Yitzhak explains this discrepancy by citing an insight he heard from his father about the general topic of the sequence required when both an Ola and Hatat are offered. In general, the Hatat offering – which is brought for the purpose of earning atonement – is sacrificed before the Ola, which is sacrificed as a gift to earn Hashem's favor. Quite naturally, as the Gemara (Zebahim 7b) explains, the sinner must first achieve a pardon for his wrongdoing before he can then proceed to win the King's favor and affection. Therefore, the Hatat must be offered before the Ola. However, Rav Levi Yitzchak's father noted, we know that the Ola sacrifice does, in fact, achieve atonement – for sins of Mahashaba (improper thoughts). Although a person who is guilty of having bad intentions is not required to bring a sacrifice, he has the opportunity to achieve atonement through the offering of the optional Ola sacrifice. Seemingly, then, the Ola resembles the Hatat, in that it, too, serves to attain forgiveness, and we must therefore ask why the Hatat is offered before the Ola. Rav Yitzchak Levi's father answered based on the general rule that Hashem does not hold us accountable for our wrongful intentions unless they lead to action. One who harbored wrong intentions does not really need an Ola sacrifice for atonement, since he is not liable to punishment for his sinful thoughts. The exception to this rule is idol-worship. One who harbors thoughts of pagan beliefs is liable to punishment regardless of whether or not he acted upon those thoughts. And therefore, Rav Levi Yitzchak's father asserts, when a sin involving idolatry has been committed, the Ola sacrifice indeed precedes the Hatat, because one must first atone for the thoughts which led to the worship, and then for the worship itself. Returning to the sacrifices of the Leviyim, Rav Levi Yitzhak explains that these offerings were brought on behalf of the entire nation to atone for the grave sin of the golden calf. Fundamentally, as this sin was one of idol-worship, the Ola should have been offered first, before the Hatat, and for this reason, in the initial command, the Ola is mentioned first. However, Rav Levi Yitzhak writes, the truth is that Beneh Yisrael did not truly intend to betray G-d and worship the golden calf. They created a graven image not to replace Hashem, but rather as a means through which they mistakenly thought they could draw close to Hashem. While this was, indeed, a grievous sin, and one which resembled idol-worship, the people did not actually worship a foreign deity. Therefore, when these two sacrifices were actually offered, the Hatat was brought before the Ola, as is done in the case of sins other than idol worship.

1)    Just before Kiddush on Sunday evening I remembered that I had forgotten to make Havdolo on Motzei Shabbos. How do I now go about doing Kiddush and Havdolo?[1]2)    I have a metal baking-tin for making cupcakes. I only use it with paper liners. Does the tin need to be immersed in a Mikveh? [2]3)    May I use a sieve or a colander for immersing numerous small utensils in a Mikveh?[3]4)    A tenant of ours installed a new kitchen. He is now moving on but he's requesting that we reimburse for the new kitchen that he installed. Is he entitled to such payment?[4]5)    To attract more children to come and hear Aseres haDibros, we would like to raffle off a free professional portrait of the child at a local studio. Is that permitted?[5]6)    I crossed the dateline from Melbourne to New York during the Sefira and will observe Shovuos on Sunday, 5th of Sivan. In davening I will omit Zman Matan Toiroseinu – because I'm a day out. What about Monday (for me: the 2nd day of Yomtov)?[6]7)    A group of Aussies in NY will have a Minyan for Yomtov onSunday. Should they read כל הבכור on Sunday and listen to Aseres haDibros on Monday, 6th of Sivan? 8)    Does the Bal Korei drop his tone for ויהי העם כמתאוננים (innext week's Sedra)?[7]9)    Does an ice-machine need to be toivelled?[8]10)  Men going to Mikveh on Yomtov afternoon in preparation for the following day of Yomtov or Shabbos; is this done?[9][1] ראה שוע"ר סי' רצטסי"א וי"ב שיש בעי' של ב' קדושות על כוס א'.[2] בס' פסקים ותשובותיו"ד סי' קכ:כ מחייב בטבילה בשם כמה פוסקים.[3] בס' פסקים ותשובות שם אותיו"ד מורה להשקיע כל הסל, שתהא השקה למעלה.[4] דין היורד לשדה חבירו מובאבשו"ע חו"מ סי' שעה, ושם מבחין בין שדה העשוי' ליטע לשדה שאינה עשוי'ליטע. ויש שבעה"ב לא נהנה כלל ואומר לו "עקור אילנך". וראה ס' פסקיהמשפט שם אות י.[5] ברמ"אאו"ח סו"ס שכב אוסר להטיל גורל בשבת. במשנ"ב שם סקכ"ד מתירגורל על קדיש ועליות וכיו"ב. אלא שיש מתירים רק ע"י ספר. אבל בקצות השלחןסי' קמו סל"ב מתיר גם בגורל של פתקאות. ברם התירו הוא רק לבו ביום.וילע"ע.[6] בשוע"ר סי' תצדס"א מבואר שהחג אינו דוקא ביום מתן תורה. בלקו"ש ח"ג ע' 997 מבוארשעליו לדלג "זמן מתן תורתנו". מסתבר שגם ביום ו' סיון לא יאמר "זמןמתן תורתנו", כי הוא חוגג יום זה מספק אולי היו באדר ל' יום. וא"כ הואספק ה' סיון. ומזה נלמד לגבי קריאת התורה, אם יקראו י' הדברות ביום א' או ב' שלהם.[7] מנהג זה מובא בקצורשו"ע סי' עח ס"ד. ובשערי רחמים על שערי אפרים פ"ג ה"ג הביאשלא נהגו כן בפולין.[8] בס' פסקים ותשובות (שם אותז) דן בכלי מתכת המצופה בפלסטיק, דחייב בטבילה עכ"פ מספק. אבל בהערה שם מעירשיש שהציפוי אינו אלא ככלי בפני עצמו, ע"ש. ובנדו"ד שאין הפלסטיק ציפוי,כי אם כלי פלסטיק ומאחוריו יש מערכת קירור.[9] ס' יום טוב כהלכתופי"ט סמ"ה.

The Torah in Parashat Naso tells of the special gifts and sacrifices brought by the Nesi'im – the leaders of the tribes – in honor of the inauguration of the Mishkan. To celebrate this event, the Nesi'im donated wagons to be used by the Leviyim to transport the Mishkan during travel, and then each tribal leader offered a series of sacrifices one day. Each day for twelve days, a different Nasi brought these sacrifices. The Torah introduces this account with the words, "Va'yehi Be'yom Moshe Kalot Moshe Le'hakim Et Ha'Mishkan" – "It was on the day when Moshe finished erecting the Mishkan…" (7:1). Rashi observes that the word "Kalot" resembles the word "Kalla" – "bride." This allusion, Rashi explains, indicates to us that on this day, the day when the Mishkan was completed and began functioning, Beneh Yisrael were like a bride entering under the wedding canopy with her groom. This was the day of Beneh Yisrael's "wedding" with G-d. Rashi's comments must be reconciled with the well-established tradition viewing Ma'amad Har Sinai – G-d's revelation to our ancestors at Mount Sinai – as our nation's "wedding" with the Almighty. Indeed, several customs we observe at weddings commemorate aspects of Ma'amad Har Sinai. For example, we adorn the Hupa with flowers, just as Mount Sinai grew beautiful flowers at the time of the Revelation. And it is customary for the groom to leave the Hupa and walk toward the bride to greet her as she makes her way to the Hupa, as G-d is described as coming from Mount Sinai to greet the people as they made their way from the camp to the foot of the mountain ("Hashem Mi'Sinai Ba" – Debarim 33:2). If our "wedding" with the Almighty occurred on Shabuot, the day of Matan Torah, then how can Rashi speak of the day of the Mishkan's inauguration – which happened nearly ten months later – as the "wedding day"? The answer lies in the tragic event that transpired in between Matan Torah and the inauguration of the Mishkan – the sin of the golden calf. We might say that the day of Matan Torah marked the first stage of the wedding process – what we call "Kiddushin" (betrothal). This is the stage when the groom gives the bride a ring and designates her as his wife. The marriage is completed with the stage of "Nisu'in," when the bride and groom go into private for the first time. The "Nisu'in" between Beneh Yisrael and Hashem was to occur forty days after Ma'amad Har Sinai, on the 17 th of Tammuz, when Moshe came down the mountain with the two tablets. This day was to have marked the completion of the "wedding," whereby our nation was fully "married" to the Almighty. In the interim, however, Beneh Yisrael had betrayed G-d – like a bride who was unfaithful to her groom – by worshipping a foreign deity. Under such circumstances, of course, the "wedding" could not continue. Beneh Yisrael needed to repair the relationship through repentance and through the building of the Mishkan. Once the Mishkan was completed, the "wedding" could now be resumed. Therefore, Rashi writes that on the day of the Mishkan's inauguration, Beneh Yisrael resembled a bride going into the Hupa – because this day marked the renewed "wedding" which had been discontinued as a result of the sin of the golden calf. Not coincidentally, Parashat Naso is almost always read shortly after the celebration of Shabuot, the day which celebrates the beginning of our "marriage" with G-d. Parashat Naso tells of the completion of the "wedding," how our nation succeeded in recovering from the tragic failure of the golden calf, in rebuilding our trust and faithfulness, so we could again be worthy of "marrying" Hashem, of entering into a unique, intimate bond with Him. The story of the Mishkan's completion teaches us that we need to earn this special relationship through loyalty and devotion. If we prioritize other interests and concerns over the Torah, if we choose to place our trust in people and forces other than Hashem, then we are betraying Him and thus become unworthy of His special protection and blessings. If we want to benefit from our relationship with G-d, we need to earn it through unbridled fealty to His commands, and by remaining uncompromisingly and unflinchingly committed to the Torah, without being misled by the alluring "golden calves" that threaten to pull us away from our loyalty to Hashem.

Shavuot- Being G-d's Servants The Mechilta famously tells that before G-d gave the Torah to Beneh Yisrael, He offered it to other nations. He first asked the descendants of Esav if they wanted the Torah, and they replied by questioning what the Torah demanded. G-d said that the Torah forbids murder – whereupon the people of Esav said they could not possibly abide by such a command. G-d then offered the Torah to the nation of Moab, and they, too, asked what it entailed. He said that it forbids immorality, illicit intimate relationships – and the people of Moab refused. G-d then offered the Torah to the nation of Yishmael. When they heard that the Torah forbids stealing, they declined. One of the commentators to the Mishna – the Mirkebet Ha'mishneh (Rav David Moshe Abraham Ashkenazi, 1680-1745) – explains the meaning and significance of this story. The Mechilta here is teaching us that accepting the Torah requires accepting the parts of the Torah that we find difficult, that force us to go against our natural instincts and inclinations. Hashem first told the people of Esav about the prohibition of murder – because they were violent by nature, and in order to accept the Torah, they needed to commit to restraining their violent impulse. This is something they were not prepared to do. And the same is true of Moab and immorality, and Yishmael and theft. The first thing G-d told each of them was the command which they would find most difficult – because this is precisely what accepting the Torah requires: that we be prepared to break our nature, to act in opposition to our instinctive tendencies. Rav Yisrael Salanter, in one of his more famous letters ( Or Yisrael , 17), elaborates on this concept, on the need to observe the Torah even when this is difficult, when this requires struggle. He writes that even if a person observes many Misvot, and generally follows a religious lifestyle, he might still not earn the title "Ebed Hashem" – a servant of Hashem. An "Ebed," a servant, is somebody who works ("Obed"). If a person fulfills Misvot only when he finds it convenient, what it does not entail hardship or difficulty, then he is not working, and so he is not actually serving Hashem. We become Hashem's servants only when we commit to observe even those Misvot which we find challenging, to abide by Hashem's rules even when this demands a great deal of struggle. There is a famous Yiddish expression among Ashkenazi Jews, "Shver tsu zayn a Yid" – "It is difficult to be a Jew." This expression is commonly viewed with disdain, as something one should never say, as it reflects a cynical, negative attitude toward Judaism. We are to be proud of Jewish life and always emphasize – to ourselves, to our children, and to others – the unparalleled joy and beauty of Torah life. I would suggest, however, a different perspective on this expression, that it makes an important and powerful comment about what Judaism is all about. Being a Jew means remaining committed even when this is difficult. Of course, Jewish life is, generally, beautiful. But often, it requires struggling to overcome difficult challenges. And accepting the Torah means committing ourselves to follow the Torah even when this requires struggle. Thus, indeed, "it is difficult to be a Jew" – being a Jew means accepting that it will sometimes be difficult. When Hashem came to Beneh Yisrael to offer them the Torah, they immediately responded with the resounding declaration, "Na'aseh Ve'nishma" – "We will perform and we will hear" (Shemot 24:7). Curiously, however, the Gemara (Shabbat 88a) tells that Hashem suspended the mountain over Beneh Yisrael and threatened to drop it on them if they did not accept the Torah. Many commentators raised the question of why Hashem needed to threaten Beneh Yisrael after they had enthusiastically expressed their commitment by declaring "Na'aseh Ve'nishma." One answer is that Hashem sought to impress upon them the obligation to observe the Torah under all circumstances, even when it is difficult and inconvenient. It was easy to announce "Na'aseh Ve'nishma" – but there would be many times in the future when they would be far less enthusiastic, when Torah observance would be a challenge, when they would need to struggle. G-d therefore held the mountain over them – to make it clear that they were becoming His servants, and this means serving Him even when this requires hard work. We must serve Hashem not only when we are "in the mood," when we feel like it, but even when we don't. Every person has his own set of struggles in Torah observance. What comes easy for one person is a struggle for somebody else. We need to each find our own weaknesses, our own areas of struggle, the parts of Torah observance which pose a special challenge for us. We must then make the commitment to accept this struggle, to work hard, to put in the effort, to do the best we can, to serve Hashem to the very best of our ability even when we find it difficult.

1)      With regard to the custom to leave a bit of the end of the Challah, does it apply only to the Lechem Mishneh, or to other bread too?[1]2)      We use plastic tablecloths from a roll. If we didn't manage to prepare before Shabbos, may we tear off the roll on Shabbos?[2]3)      I wish to begin Shmoine Esrei and there's someonebehind me who's already begun. May I take the three steps before my Shmoine Esrei?[3]4)      May one make ‘no-bake cheesecake' on Shabbos?[4]5)      Can I mix psyllium husk with water on Shabbos?[5] 6)      I lent someone some money and he is not in a position to repay the loan. May I deduct the owed from my Maaser fund?[6]7)      Is there an obligation to check Cashew-nuts for infestation? It is now years that I have not come across bugs in these nuts.[7]8)      In order to fulfil the Mitzvah, the Esrog has toedible. Yet there is leeway – in Chutz lo'Oretz – with an Esrog that is Orloh:[8]9)      Does Orloh apply to replanted saplings? [9]10)   How should we pronounce the word ושדה  in thisweek's Sedra?[10][1]  של"ה,הובא במגן אברהם סי' קסז ס"ק מ"ב ובשוע"ר שם סכ"ב. מה שנוהגיםרבים שלא לאכול הקצה – בס' שמירת הגוף והנפש (סי' לא הע' ה) מביא מהיערות דבש(ח"ג) איך שהחיצונים נאחזים בראשית הדבר במיוחד. ומבואר בזה מה שמנשה הוכיחאת רב אשי בזה שאינו יודע על איזה חלק מהפת לומר ברכת המוציא (סנהדרין קב ב).[2] בס'שבת כהלכה ח"ד פכ"ח ספ"ב מתיר באינו מקפיד על המדה.[3] בפסקי תשובות סי' צה:ב אסרהדבר, כי הפסיעות אינן 'מצוה'. וכעין זה שם סי' קב:ד לענין הפסיעות שבגמרהתפלה.[4] אסור משום גיבול – ראהשוע"ר סי' שכא סט"ז.[5]  בס' שמירתשבת כהלכתה (פ"ח אות ל) ובפסקי תשובות (סי' שכא אות כו) החמיר גם בבלילה רכה.[6] ברמ"איו"ד סי' רנז ס"ה מתיר הדבר. בש"ך שם מצריך להקנות הכסף לעניע"י שלישי. אבל הנודע ביהודה מקיל בנדו"ד, דמעשר-כספים הוי דרבנן.[7] ראהיו"ד סי' פד ס"ח שחיובהבדיקה הוא לדבר שדרכו להתליע.[8] שוע"ר סי' תרמטסט"ו, וכ"פ המשנ"ב שם ס"ק מה.[9] בשו"ע סי' רצדסט"ו מחמיר בעקר כל האילן, אבל שם סי"ט מקיל ביכול לחיות בעפר הנתלשאתו. וע"ש בפתחי תשובה ס"ק יג.[10]  בתיקון סופריםברדיטשוב מבאר ביטויים שונים לשבא-נע.

Parashat Behar begins with the Misva of Shemita, which requires farmers to refrain from agricultural activity for an entire year every seven years. The Torah refers to this year as "Shabbat L'Hashem" – "A sabbath to God" (25:2), and as "Shabbat Shabbaton" (25:4), a phrase whose meaning is not, at first glance, clear. The Seforno (Rav Ovadia Seforno, Italy, 1475-1549) explains the first expression, "Shabbat L'Hashem," to mean that this year is to be devoted to Hashem. G-d commands farmers to refrain from agricultural work so that they can spend this year involved in Torah learning and prayer. Just as we refrain from work one day a week, Shabbat, in order to spend a day engrossed in spirituality, similarly, once in seven years, farmers are to spend a year devoted to the nurturing of their soul. As for the term "Shabbat Shabbaton," the Seforno writes that this instructs farmers to refrain also from certain activities related to agriculture that are not technically forbidden by the formal laws of Shemita. To understand the Seforno's intent, we must take a step back and examine the notion of the "Takanot" – the laws enacted by the Sages to safeguard the Torah. It goes without saying that the Torah is perfect, and does not and will never require any amending. The purpose of the Rabbis' "Takanot" was most certainly not to "improve" the already perfect Torah. Rather, they were intended to uphold the spirit of the law. It is possible, for example, for a person to avoid all the activities forbidden by the Torah on Shabbat, while treating the day not much different than a weekday. A businessman can run his business on Shabbat without performing any acts that constitute Biblical acts of Shabbat desecration. He can go to his office with a non-Jewish taxi service, manage his employees, and even write with a "Shinui" – a deviation, like with his weaker hand – such that he has a pretty typical business day without transgressing any Torah violations. A person can also spend Shabbat cleaning his garage and washing his car without desecrating Shabbat on the level of Torah law. Clearly, however, this is not how the Torah wants us to spend Shabbat. In addition to the letter of the law, there is the spirit of the law, the purpose for which the law exists. The Shabbat prohibitions are intended to create a certain atmosphere, an aura of serenity, joy, calm, holiness, and spiritual growth. The Rabbis saw that people were observing the letter of the law without observing the spirit of the law. In many areas, they were able to abide by the strict letter of the Torah's commands, but while missing the entire point of these commands. And so the Sages enacted many laws in order to ensure that we not only technically observe the Torah's commands, but also achieve the goals which these commands are meant to lead us to. According to the Seforno, this is the meaning of "Shabbat Shabbaton." The Torah indicates to us that besides refraining from the specific forms of agricultural activity forbidden by the laws of Shemita, farmers must also maintain a certain aura during this year, an aura of spiritual engagement and holiness. To that end, they are to refrain from even technically permissible forms of work, so that the Shemita year will be spent in a fundamentally different way than the other six years. What is true about Shabbat and Shemita is true also of our relationships. In a good marriage, the husband and wife do not need to be told what to do for one another, and what not to do. They understand what the other wants, and they try to fulfill those wishes to the best of their ability. I am reminded of the time when a fellow called me to ask if it was acceptable to miss his evening Torah study in order to go out with his wife for their anniversary. I told him that I don't have time for questions such as these. This should not even be asked. It should be obvious that one owes it to his wife to spend time with her on their anniversary. One does not need to ask a Rabbi to authorize his going out with his wife on their anniversary. This is something that he should not need to be told. The fellow went home and said, "The Rabbi said we can go out tonight." This is now how it is done. A man does not spend time with his wife because the Rabbi said so. He spends time with his wife because he knows that this is what she wants and what she expects. He should not wait to be told – by her or by a Rabbi – that this is what he should do. In our relationship with Hashem and in our relationships with other people, we are to extend beyond the technical "dos" and "don'ts," the strict letter of the law, and try as much as possible to do what we intuitively know they want us to do.

The famous second Mishna of Pirkeh Abot teaches that the world stands on three "pillars": Torah, Aboda (service of G-d), and Gemilut Hasadim (dispensing kindness). These three "pillars" are embodied by our three patriarchs – Abraham, Yishak and Yaakob. Abraham was the paragon of kindness, devoting his life to helping others. Even after undergoing Berit Mila at an advanced age, he sat outside in the scorching heat looking for people who needed hospitality. He spared no efforts in seeking to help any person who required assistance. Yishak, who was placed on an altar and nearly sacrificed, represents the highest standards of "Aboda," serving Hashem, living one's life in complete subservience to the Almighty and being prepared to make whatever sacrifices He demands. Finally, Yaakob Abinu embodies the quality of diligent Torah study, having spent the first decades of his life fully immersed in Torah learning. In light of this parallel, it seems that the Mishna's list of three "pillars" is presented out of order. We would have perhaps expected the Mishna to list the "pillars" in the order of the three Abot (patriarchs) – beginning with Hesed, followed by Aboda, and culminating with Torah, corresponding to the order of the Abot – Abraham, Yishak and Yaakob. The answer, perhaps, is that the Mishna wanted to emphasize that we need to learn Torah in order to achieve the other two pillars. Without Torah knowledge, we will not have the information we need to serve Hashem. A person who does not learn Torah will decide on his own how to pray, and how to perform Misvot. He will just make up his service of Hashem. We need to learn Torah in order to know how to perform "Aboda," how to serve Hashem in the right way. This is true also of Hesed. We might think that Hesed is instinctive and intuitive, that we can figure out on our own when and how to help other people. But this, too, is mistaken. The Torah guides us not only with regard to our service of Hashem, but also with regard to Hesed, explaining to us the right way to help people. We need to learn what our responsibilities and obligations are, when we are supposed to help, and what kind of help we are to offer. We find an example in the beginning of Parashat Emor, where the Torah presents a series of laws relevant to the Kohanim. A Kohen is not permitted to come in contact with a dead body, except in the case of the death of an immediate family member. Of course, we know that tending to the burial of the deceased is a precious Misva. But without learning Torah, we would not have known that for a Kohen, this is actually a sin, unless he is dealing with the remains of a family member. Moreover, a Kohen Gadol is not permitted to come in contact with a dead body even in the case of a deceased family member – but he is allowed, and even required, to tend to the burial of a Met Misva, a body that has nobody else to bury it. This is just one example of how we need the Torah to give us the guidelines of when and how to perform kindness. Torah knowledge is indispensable for living a life of Aboda and of Hesed. The "pillar" of Torah is therefore mentioned by the Mishna first – because without it, we can never reach the other two "pillars."

We find in Parashat Kedoshim (19:17) the command "Hochi'ah Tochi'ah Et Amitecha" – to reprimand one's fellow who acts improperly, so that he will improve his behavior. King Shlomo, in the Book of Mishleh (9:8), offers advice regarding the proper approach to the delicate topic of Tocheha – reprimanding and rebuking. He teaches, "Al Tochah Letz Pen Yisna'eka, Hochah Le'hacham Ve'ye'ehaveka" – "Do not reprimand the scoffer, lest he despise you; reprimand the wise, and he will love you." The simple meaning of this verse is that King Shlomo is telling us whom to criticize and whom not to criticize. The "Letz," the "scoffer," should not be expected to accept criticism, and so it is best not to criticize him. Many people are simply not receptive to criticism, as they assume they are always correct, and have little interest in hearing what others have to say. Their instinctive reaction to criticism is something to the effect of, "Who are you to talk?" "What do you know?" "Don't tell me what to do." The wise person, by contrast, understands that he has something to learn from all people, even those who are not necessarily as smart as he is. With wisdom comes the humility to recognize that all people, even the brightest and most successful, make mistakes and have more to learn. And so the wise person is open to constructive criticism, and willing to accept rebuke. Therefore, Shlomo tells us not to bother reprimanding the "Letz," the arrogant cynic, but to offer criticism to the wise person who is open to being corrected and advised. Rav Yaakov Kamenetsky (1891-1986) offered an additional explanation of this verse – suggesting that King Shlomo here teaches us not whom to reprimand, but how to reprimand. He is telling us that when we offer criticism, we should do so in a manner that makes the person feel like a wise person, and not like an evil "scoffer." Unfortunately, our instinct when giving criticism is to emphasize the severity of the misdeed, and how ashamed the person should feel for having committed such an act. This approach, while instinctive, is not only ineffective, but counterproductive. If we emphasize to the person the gravity of his wrongdoing, he is likely to either reject the criticism altogether, or simply despair. He will either not want to own up to the fact that he did something terrible, and thus dismiss the criticism, or he will acknowledge the severity of his bad behavior and decide that he's just bad and so there is no reason for him to try to improve. King Shlomo thus advises us, "Do not reprimand the scoffer" – do not criticize in a way that makes the person feel lowly. Instead, "…reprimand the wise" – make him feel important, wise and capable. The right way to criticize is by emphasizing to the individual his greatness, his vast potential, how much Hashem loves him and wants him to do the right thing, how much he is capable of achieving. If we criticize in a manner that makes the person feel "wise" and capable of greatness, then he will embrace the criticism, rather than reject it. This perhaps sheds new light on the continuation of the verse here in Parashat Kedoshim. After commanding, "Hochi'ah Tochi'ah Et Amitecha," the Torah adds, "Ve'lo Tisa Alav Het." This is commonly understood to mean, "and do not bear sin on his account," that is to say, if we fail to criticize, then we are held partially accountable for the person's continued misconduct. Alternatively, however, this could be read to mean, "Do not elevate the sin." When we reprimand, we should not emphasize the severity of the act, which will cause the person to despair. Rather than "elevate" the sin, we should instead elevate the person. We should emphasize not how bad the person behaved, but rather how good he is capable of behaving, how great he can become. This is a critical lesson relevant to education. When raising children or teaching students, the focus must be on building the child's self-esteem, making the child feel capable and helping him realize his potential. Rather than "elevate" the child's inevitable mistakes and failings, we must instead "elevate" his sense of self-worth, so he recognizes how great he can be and sets out to achieve that greatness.

Andor's second season is a different beast—and an absolute feast of real-world parallels.In “Sagrona Teema,” (Andor S2, E2), the differences between Andor's seasons become clear: Season 2 is faster, more mysterious, and altogether more oblique. But the parallels to life in 2025 have become even more clear. In our recap this week, we draw the lines connecting Andor to ICE deportations, leftist infighting, and issues of consent. On a happier note, we're giving a Chandrilan toast to the return of Syril and the hard launch of Sedra (is that their couple name??). New to Growing Up Skywalker? Come join us for non-toxic Star Wars recaps from a veteran and a new fan. New episodes every Tuesday.Want more Growing Up Skywalker? This is a great time to sign up for our Patreon for bonus audio content! Timestamps:00:00:00 Who Are We?00:04:10 Plot Summary00:14:36 Season 1 and Season 2 Distinctions00:20:58 Real-World Parallels: Deportation, Exploitation, Leftist Infighting00:43:15 Syril and Dedra 4ever00:56:23 Bae Watch01:08:14 Closing Thoughts

Most of Parashiyot Tazria and Mesora deals with the intricate laws of Sara'at – a kind of infection which would surface on people's skin, garments, or homes. The Torah outlines specific requirements that must be obeyed by a person who sees a suspicious discoloration that might signify the presence of Sara'at, as well as the procedures to be followed should a discoloration be confirmed as Sara'at. A person confirmed to be stricken with bodily Sara'at would be banished from his city until he is cured. A garment with Sara'at, in certain situations, needed to be burned, and a home stricken with Sara'at would, in some instances, be dismantled. The Rabbis explained that Sara'at would befall a person as a punishment for certain sins. Even Sara'at on the body was not a medical condition, some sort of dermatological disorder. It was rather a punishment that G-d would bring upon a person on account of his misdeeds. In light of this, Rav Moshe Alshich (Sefat, 1508-1593) raised the question of why the Torah begins its discussion of Sara'at by addressing the situation of "Adam Ki Yiheyeh Be'or Besaro Se'et O Sapahat…" – where an "Adam" has a discoloration on his skin. "Adam" is one of several different words used by the Torah in reference to the human being, and the Alshich writes that this word refers specifically to "Shelomeh Emuneh Yisrael" – the faithfully observant among the Jewish people. It signifies a high level of obedience to Hashem, and is thus reserved for those who are religiously committed. The question naturally arises, then, as to why it is used here, in Parashat Tazria, in reference to a person stricken by Sara'at. If Sara'at would befall somebody who was guilty of grave misdeeds, then why is he called "Adam" – a title of distinction reserved for the spiritually devoted? The Alshich answers that to the contrary, it is only those who are generally righteous and pure whose bodies are impacted by the impurity of sin. If a person is entirely impure, then the sins he commits do not affect him to such an extent that he would be stricken by Sara'at because of them. It is only if a person is otherwise pure that an occasional misdeed would result in a Sara'at infection. A stain is noticeable only on an otherwise clean garment; if a garment is already covered with mud, a drop of food that falls on it will not be discernible. Likewise, it is only in a generally "clean" soul that the "stain" of sin causes a Sara'at infection. For this reason, the Alshich writes, Sara'at does not occur nowadays – because we are not on a high enough level of purity that the contamination of an occasional sin would leave an impression in the form of Sara'at. The Alshich explains on this basis a word used by the Torah later in this introductory verse: "VE'HAYA Be'or Besaro Le'nega Sara'at" ("And it shall be in the skin of his flesh a Sara'at affliction"). Ironically, the word "Ve'haya" is understood by our Sages as an allusion to joy. When this word is used, the Gemara (Megilla 10) teaches, it indicates an element of celebration. Seemingly, then, the word "Ve'haya" has no place here in the context of Sara'at infections. The Alshich explains that while the manifestation of Sara'at is, of course, very unfortunate, a harsh punishment brought upon a sinner, at the same time, it is a cause for joy, as it shows the person's overall stature of greatness. The fact that his "stain" is discernible proves that his soul is otherwise "clean." The onset of Sara'at thus brings the joy of knowing that one is generally pure and can retain his state of pristine purity through the process of Teshuba, by correcting the misdeeds for which he was punished with Sara'at.

The Torah in Parashat Shemini introduces the subject of "Ma'achalot Asurot" – the forbidden foods, outlining the general principles that govern which foods are permissible for consumption and which are not. In its conclusion of this topic, the Torah connects these laws to the concept of Kedusha, the sanctity of Beneh Yisrael: "Ve'hitkadishtem Vi'hyitem Kedoshim Ki Kadosh Ani" – "You shall sanctify yourselves and be sacred, for I am sacred…" (11:44). This association between "Ma'achalot Asurot" and the concept of Kedusha is underscored by the Rambam, who includes these laws in the "Kedusha" section of his halachic code. To explain this connection, Rav Eliyahu Bakshi-Doron (1941-2020), former Sephardic Chief Rabbi of Israel, draws our attention to an important passage in the Midrash Tanhuma (Shemini, 6), which offers an analogy to a doctor who visited two ailing patients. He noticed that the first patient was gravely ill with little chance of surviving, whereas the second was likely to recover. The doctor told the first patient's family member to feed him whichever foods he wanted, whereas the family of the second patient were given very strict instructions regarding the patient's diet. Since the first patient in any event was not likely to live, the doctor explained, he could be allowed to enjoy whichever foods he wished. The second, however, had the potential to live, and so he needed to care for his health so that he could recover. The Midrash explains that the same is true of Am Yisrael and the other nations of the world. While there is no physical difference between us, and our bodies are no different than the bodies of other peoples, we are destined to "live," as the verse says in the Book of Debarim (4:4), "Ve'atem Ha'debekim B'Hashem Elokechem Haim Kulechem" – "And you, who are attached to Hashem your G-d, are living." Rav Bakshi-Doron explains that we are destined to receive a portion in the next world, in the eternal afterlife, where our souls will exist together with Hashem, and this is the "life" to which we are uniquely destined. We are "sacred" in the sense that we are given the potential to build a special connection with the Almighty. Therefore, we are given a special "diet" that we must follow. We of course do not understand the spiritual effects of kosher food and non-kosher food, but Hashem Himself – the greatest "doctor" – informed us of which foods we must abstain from in order to preserve our spiritual health so we can build a unique connection with Him and become the holy people that we are meant to become. Rav Bakshi-Doron adds that this explains why the laws of "Ma'achalot Asurot" appear here in Parashat Shemini, which also tells of the events that took place when the Mishkan was inaugurated. The purpose of the Mishkan, as Hashem famously told Moshe back in Parashat Teruma (Shemot 25:8), is "Ve'shachanti Be'tocham" – that Hashem would reside among His people. Through the Mishkan, Hashem came to live intimately with us, to dwell within each and every member of our nation. The Mishkan, then, signifies the special relationship that we are to build with our Creator, the unique spiritual potential that we have been given. This is the connection between the Mishkan – the most powerful symbol of our unique spiritual potential – and "Ma'achalot Asurot," the laws we must observe in order to bring that potential into fruition. Hashem chose us to become a special nation – and to that end, He equipped us with special potential and abilities. This does not mean we are naturally better than others – rather, it means that we are given the responsibility and the challenge to rise to greater heights, and we are guaranteed the ability to meet this challenge if we truly strive to. Once we recognize our unique spiritual mission, and the unique potential we have to complete this mission, we will feel more confident and more driven to pursue spiritual greatness, to maximize our potential, and become the great people that we are expected to become.

* This week's Derasha is dedicated in memory of Avraham ben Gemilah* Toward the end of Maggid – the main section of the Haggadah, when we discuss Yesiat Misrayim in fulfillment of the obligation to speak about the miraculous Exodus from Egypt on this night – we cite a Halachic ruling of Rabban Gamliel regarding the obligation of the Seder. Rabban Gamliel stated that one must discuss at the Seder the meaning of the Korban Pesach (paschal sacrifice), the Masa, and the Marror, and if one does not, then he does not fulfill his obligation. At my Seder, when we reach this point, I make sure that everyone who had left the table – such as the women arranging the food in the kitchen – returns to the table, and that this passage is read in both in Hebrew and English, so that it will be clearly understood by all. One of the questions that arise regarding this section is its sequence. Rabban Gamliel lists the three Misvot which must be discussed in the order of Pesach, Masa and Marror. Seemingly, this order is incorrect; the Marror should be discussed first. After all, the Marror commemorates the bitterness of slavery, whereas the Korban Pesach commemorates the miraculous plague of the firstborn on the night of Yesiat Misrayim, and the Masa commemorates our ancestors' hasty, frantic departure from Egypt. Quite obviously, Beneh Yisrael first experienced the bitterness of slavery, and then the miracle of the plague of the firstborn. The correct order, therefore, should be Marror, Pesach, Masa. Why did Rabban Gamliel move the Marror to the end of the list? To answer this question, we need to revisit the meaning and significance of the Marror. The Gemara instructs that the best option for Marror is "Hasa," which we call Romaine lettuce. Although this lettuce is not particularly bitter, it is the preferred choice because of its name – "Hasa" which alludes to the fact that "Has Ha'Kadosh Baruch Hu Alenu" – Hashem had mercy and compassion upon us. This seems very strange. If the entire purpose of the Marror is to remind us of the "bitterness," the pain and suffering that our ancestors endured, then why would we associate the Marror with compassion? Hashem's compassion was shown at the time of Yesiat Misrayim, not during the years of bitterness. Why, then, do we want the name of the vegetable used for Marror to allude to Hashem's mercy? The answer is that, indeed, the "bitterness" of slavery was an expression of Hashem's mercy and compassion. To understand how, let us consider an analogy to mortgage payments. A person with a mortgage can choose different payment plans. One possibility is to pay small, relatively easy sums each month, for a lengthy period of time. But he could also choose to "tighten his belt,", cutting back on other expenses so he can afford to pay more of his debt each month. This way, he is able to get out of debt faster. For reasons we do not fully understand, Hashem had told Abraham Abinu that his descendants would endure a 400-year period of slavery. However, Hashem saw that Beneh Yisrael would not survive such a lengthy period of exile. Beneh Yisrael were submerged in the impurity of Egypt, and had they remained there for 400 years, they would have plummeted to the lowest depths, from which they could not recover. Hashem therefore decided to increase the "monthly payments," so-to-speak, by intensifying the workload, so they could leave 190 years early – after just 210 years of slavery. The suffering the people endured during those 210 years amounted to the suffering they were to have experienced over the course of 400 years of bondage. It turns out, then, that the "bitterness" was a crucial component of the redemption from Egypt. Beneh Yisrael were able to leave Egypt only because they suffered not only exile, but "bitterness," such that 400 years' worth of exile was condensed into 210 years. Had this not happened, they could never have been redeemed. This easily explains why we eat "Hasa" as our Marror – because the bitterness commemorated by the Marror was indeed a manifestation of Hashem's boundless kindness and compassion for His beloved nation. With this in mind, we can return to Rabban Gamliel's statement. He listed "Pesach, Masa, Marror" in this sequence because it was only after the "Pesach" and the "Masa" that Beneh Yisrael understood the nature of the "Marror." While they were suffering, everything appeared "bitter." But later, in retrospect, after they left Egypt, they understood that the bitterness of those 210 years allowed them to "pay" their "debt" more quickly, which was critical for their survival as a people. We therefore discuss first the Korban Pesach and Masa, the redemption from Egypt, and then we are in a position to properly understand the Marror, the indispensable role played by the "bitterness" of slavery in the process of redemption. This might also be the reason why we dip the Marror in the sweet Haroset – to symbolize the fact that the bitterness of slavery was actually "sweet," as it ensured our ancestors' survival and eventual redemption. This is something we must remember during our own "bitter" periods, when we face challenges and hardship. At the moment, we see nothing "sweet" or beneficial about the difficult situation that we are experiencing. But we must trust that this "Marror," as "bitter" as it feels, is actually to our benefit. As regarding our ancestors' bondage in Egypt, Hashem is acting kindly toward us even when we endure hardship. This belief helps us remain strong and confident even in life's more challenging moments, as we will trust that everything we are going through is, in truth, to our benefit.

On the first night of Pesach, we begin the Arbit prayer with the recitation of the 107 th chapter of Tehillim. This chapter opens with the exclamation, "Hodu L'Hashem Ki Tob, Ki Le'olam Hasdo" – "Thank G-d, for He is good, for His kindness is eternal." The selection of this chapter as the introduction to the night of the seder is very significant, because it encapsulates the essence of this night. The seder is what we might call the Jewish "thanksgiving dinner," as it revolves around the theme of gratitude, thanking Hashem for all He has done for us. In fact, this chapter of Tehillim proceeds to describe the four situations which require a person to bring a Korban Toda – a thanksgiving sacrifice in the Bet Ha'mikdash, or, nowadays, to recite Birkat Ha'gomel, thanking Hashem for saving him. These four situations are a sea voyage, a trip through the desert, imprisonment, and serious illness. A person who emerges from any of these four perilous situations is required to bring a Korban Toda to express his gratitude to Hashem. Our ancestors experienced all four situations. They were released from bondage, from their "imprisonment" in Egypt, and the Sages teach that when they departed Egypt, all their physical ailments from which they suffered as a result of slavery were cured. They then crossed the sea and the desert. This is one of the reasons given for the obligation to drink four cups of wine at the seder. We drink one cup to express gratitude for each of these dangerous conditions from which our forefathers were rescued. Appropriately, therefore, we begin the Arbit service on this night with the chapter of Tehillim that speaks of the obligation to express gratitude to Hashem for these four forms of redemption, all of which are celebrated on the night of the seder. The Maharal of Prague (Rav Yehuda Loew, 1512-1609) asserted that this theme of the seder explains why we refer to the text read on this night with the term "Haggadah." The source of this term, the Maharal writes, is a Misva which has a surprising connection to the seder experience – the Misva of Bikkurim, which requires a farmer to bring the first of his orchard's fruits that ripen to the Bet Ha'mikdash and give them to a Kohen. When he arrived in the Bet Ha'mikdash, the farmer was to pronounce a special text dictated in the Torah (Debarim 26), a text commonly referred to as "Mikra Bikkurim." In this proclamation, the farmer would briefly recall his ancestors' period of slavery in Egypt, how they cried to Hashem, and how He miraculously brought them to freedom. The four verses of Mikra Bikkurim comprise the text that we use at the seder as the focal point of our discussion of Yesiat Misrayim (the Exodus from Egypt). Rather than go through the entire narrative of the Egyptian bondage and the Exodus, we go through the brief account of Mikra Bikkurim, carefully analyzing each phrase of this short text. The Maharal notes that the first words the Torah requires the farmer to declare upon arriving in the Bet Ha'mikdash with his fruits are "Higadeti Hayom L'Hashem Elokecha." The Aramaic Targum Yerushalmi translation of the Torah renders this verse as, "I give thanks and praise to Hashem your G-d." It thus turns out that the word "Higadeti," which we would normally translate as "I have told," actually means expressing praise and gratitude. And it is for this reason, the Maharal writes, that we refer to the text of the Pesach seder as the "Haggadah" – because this is the text we use to express our gratitude to Hashem, which is what the seder experience is all about. In the introduction to the Maggid section of the Haggadah, we announce, "Ve'chol Ha'marbeh Hareh Zeh Meshubah" – the more one speaks about Yesiat Misrayim on this night, the more praiseworthy he is. The Maharal writes that when it comes to expressing gratitude, the more the better. Saying "thank you" to someone who did us a favor might be enough to discharge our obligation, but we can and should do better than that. When expressing appreciation, we should be detailed and specific, and not hold back. The more gratitude we show, the better. There is so much negativity and cynicism all around us. There are so many people who criticize and complain about everything, who focus on what's wrong and then constantly talk about it. Let us counter this negativity with positivity, by indulging in gratitude, in appreciation, by regularly praising and being thankful for all the good there is. Of course, we live in an imperfect world, where there is always something to complain about. But we also live in a wonderful world with so much to be grateful for. And this should be our focus. May the upcoming night of gratitude motivate us to always see and direct our attention toward the goodness all around us and all that is right in our world, so we will live with joy and contentment even as we do our small part to address the world's imperfections in an effort to correct them.

We read in Parashat Pekudeh (40:2) of G-d's command to Moshe that the completed Mishkan should be erected on Rosh Hodesh Nissan, the first day of the month of Nissan. The Midrash tells that in truth, the artisans built the various parts of the Mishkan very quickly, and the Mishkan was ready to be assembled already earlier, on the 25 th of Kislev, a little over two months after the work began. However, Hashem decided to postpone the assembly of the Mishkan until the month of Nissan, due to the unique significance of this month. The Midrash continues that the 25 th of Kislev "protested," as it were, objecting to its having been denied the privilege of being a special day, the day of the Mishkan's inauguration. Hashem assured this day that it will be compensated – and, sure enough, many centuries later, the 25 th of Kislev became the first day of the joyous holiday of Hanukah, celebrating the Jews' miraculous triumph over the Greeks and the rededication of the Bet Ha'mikdash, which the Greeks had defiled. The day of 25 Kislev was at first denied its holiday – but it was later compensated with "interest." Whereas the first of Nissan, commemorating the inauguration of the temporary Mishkan, is not marked by a great deal of fanfare, the 25 th of Kislev became a day of great festivity observed by Jews around the world for millennia. The Midrash's comments bring to mind a different Midrashic account, regarding the fish in the Yam Suf (Sea of Reeds). When Hashem drowned the 600 Egyptian horsemen who had pursued Beneh Yisrael into the sea, the fish were overjoyed, and prepared to indulge in the robust feast that had just been presented to them. But just as they were set to eat, the bodies of the Egyptian horsemen were sent ashore. Beneh Yisrael feared that the soldiers had not drowned, but rather came ashore, and thus still posed a threat. In order to allay the people's concerns, Hashem had the sea expel the remains of the Egyptian warriors onto the shore where they were standing, so they would see them and know that their pursuers were indeed dead, and they were thus no longer in danger. The fish were, naturally, disappointed over the sudden loss of the large amounts of food that they thought they would soon be enjoying. Hashem repaid the fish years later, during the battle waged by Beneh Yisrael in the times of the prophetess Deborah against the army of Sisera. During this war, Hashem drowned the enemy's 900 chariots in the Kishon River. As compensation for having lost the 600 Egyptian horsemen – the fish were given 900 Canaanite soldiers. This is a reason given for the custom that many have to ensure to eat fish on Shabbat. Many people might have serious misgivings about closing their businesses on Shabbat, or about taking off from work, worrying about the loss of income. The fish reminds them that Hashem always repays in full – and with "interest" – for the sacrifices we make for Misvot. Whatever expense or loss we incur for the sake of a Misva is more than worth it – because we are guaranteed to receive much more than we've lost. The Gemara (Besa 15b) teaches that Hashem tells us: "My children! Borrow on My account to make the day [of Shabbat] sacred, and trust Me that I will repay." Hashem guarantees that all the money we spend for Shabbat and holidays is being charged to His account, and He will repay us in full. And, as we have seen, He not only repays the money we spend, but also gives us much more. Performing Misvot is always the greatest investment we can ever make, one which guarantees to bring us the most profitable returns.

In the beginning of Parashat Vayakhel, we read that Moshe assembled Beneh Yisrael and conveyed to them Hashem's command to observe the Shabbat. He singled out in particular the prohibition against kindling a fire on Shabbat: "Lo Teba'aru Esh Be'chol Moshebotechem Be'yom Ha'Shabbat" – "Do not kindle fire in all your residences on the day of Shabbat" (35:3). Different explanations have been given for why Moshe singled out this prohibition, which is but one of numerous restrictions by which we are bound on Shabbat. Rav Moshe Alshich (Sefat, 1508-1593) offers a unique interpretation of this verse, explaining that it speaks of kindling fire as part of the process of building the Mishkan. Moshe reiterated the command of Shabbat observance here as an introduction to the command to build the Mishkan, which appears immediately following this brief section regarding Shabbat. He was telling the people that although Hashem required them to build the Mishkan, the site of His residence among them, a project that was of paramount importance to the nation, nevertheless, this undertaking did not override the Shabbat prohibitions. Meaning, the work to build the Mishkan was to be suspended during Shabbat. Now the people might have wondered why this was the case. After all, once the Mishkan was built, sacrifices were offered there seven days a week, even on Shabbat, despite the fact that this entailed the suspension of several Shabbat prohibitions, such as slaughtering animals, and burning the various parts of the animal on the altar. We would have thus reasoned that if the service in the Mishkan was important enough to override the Shabbat restrictions, then the construction of the Mishkan, too, should warrant suspending these prohibitions, due to the singular importance of the service of Hashem in this site. Moshe responded to this question in this verse, by commanding, "Do not kindle fire in all your residences on the day of Shabbat." He emphasized that burning is forbidden on Shabbat in "your residences," and is allowed on Shabbat only in Hashem's "residence." Once the Mishkan was erected, it was considered the Almighty's residence, where the Shabbat laws were not binding. During the process of the Mishkan's construction, however, the Mishkan was not yet Hashem's residence. Until its completion, it was still considered the people's residence. As such, kindling fire was not allowed, even for the sake of building G-d's residence. It was only in the completed structure, once the Shechina (divine presence) descended and dwelled within it, that burning was permitted in the service of Hashem. Before that point, however, when the building site was still the people's residence, and not G-d's, burning was forbidden.

**This week's essay is dedicated in memory of Rosa bat Shafia** Parashat Ki-Tisa begins by completing the Torah's discussion of the construction of the Mishkan. In the previous Parashiyot, we read of the building and its furnishings, as well as the special garments worn by the Kohanim and the procedure required for their consecration. The Torah now completes its discussion by presenting a number of additional laws, such as the mandatory annual half-shekel tax ("Mahasit Ha'shekel"), the washing basin at the entrance of the Mishkan (Kiyor), the Ketoret (incense), the anointing oil (Shemen Ha'mish'ha), and the designation of Besalel as the chief artisan who would oversee the project. Having concluded its discussion of the Mishkan, the Torah then speaks of Shabbat, and the strict prohibition against its desecration. Rashi (31:13) explains that the command of Shabbat appears here to indicate that the construction of the Mishkan did not override the Shabbat prohibitions. Hashem was telling the people that as important as it was to build the Mishkan, the place where the Shechina (divine presence) would reside, this project did not supersede the laws of Shabbat, and so the work was to be discontinued on Shabbat. The Klausenberger Rebbe (Rav Yekutiel Yehuda Halberstam, 1905-1994) finds specific significance in the juxtaposition between the command of Shabbat and the immediately preceding verses. Just before the command of Shabbat in our Parasha, Hashem instructs that Besalel should lead the project to construct the Mishkan, and He lists all the various items which Besalel and his team were responsible for making. Near the end this list we find "Bigdeh Ha'kodesh Le'Aharon Ahicha, Ve'et Bigdeh Banav Le'chahen" – the priestly garments (31:10). The juxtaposition between these verses, the Rebbe explained, alludes to the importance of Bigdeh Shabbat – the special garments to be worn on Shabbat. Just as the Kohanim were required to wear special garments when they served in the holiest place – the Mishkan – so must we all wear special garments on the holiest day, Shabbat. Our special Shabbat clothes are our "Bigdeh Kehuna," our "priestly garments," that we are obligated to wear in order to properly respect the sacred day of Shabbat. The Klausenberger Rebbe notes in this context the famous tradition (Talmud Yerushalmi, Ta'anit 1:1) that if the Jewish People would properly observe one Shabbat, we would then be worthy of Mashiah's arrival. The reason, the Rebbe explains, is based on a passage in the Midrash (Bereshit Rabba 65:16) in which Rabban Shimon Ben Gamliel extols the extraordinary lengths that Esav went to for the sake of honoring his father, Yishak Abinu. While Esav was, in general, sinful, he excelled in the area of Kibbud Ab (honoring his father). Rabban Shimon mentions that Esav would prepare food for his father, and would then change into his fine garments before serving him, so he would look respectable. He ensured to wear special clothing when serving his father in order to show honor and respect. By the same token, the Klausenberger Rebbe writes, on Shabbat, Hashem comes into our homes, and we are spending the day with Him. It is only fitting, then, that we wear special, fine clothing in His honor. The merit through which Esav's descendants have been able to succeed and prosper, and keep us in exile, is his outstanding devotion to Kibbud Ab, his showing great honor to his father. The way we end this exile, then, is by showing this same level of honor to Hashem – and we do this through our Bigdeh Shabbat, by dressing in honor of Shabbat the way Esav dressed in honor of his father. "Dressing down" has become the norm in our society. People are no longer encouraged to dress formally for work, or for other events. While this policy may have merit in the context of the workplace, we must ensure not to embrace it with regard to Shabbat. On Shabbat, we become like Kohanim, as we are in the Shechina's presence, like the Kohanim in the Bet Ha'mikdash. Thus, like the Kohanim, we are obliged to wear our "Bigdeh Kehuna," our special garments through which we show our honor and reverence for the Almighty.

In this episode of 'Holy Disruption,' host Heather Schott engages in a deep discussion with Andrew Sedra, a pastor from Sydney, Australia. They discuss the challenges faced by Christianity in contemporary society and the perceived threat of Islam based on historical evidence and current events. Topics include the need for courage and boldness in the church, the importance of repentance, and the prophetic significance of current geopolitical events. Sedra shares personal stories from his childhood in Egypt, highlighting the persecution of Christians in Muslim-majority countries, and calls for the American church to awaken and take action. Both emphasize the necessity of revival, repentance, and reformation within the church to withstand these cultural and spiritual battles.

The Megilla tells us that Ester, the heroine of the Purim story, had another name – Hadasa. What might be the significance of this second name? We should perhaps assume that if the Megilla found it necessary to inform us of Ester's other name, this detail must be important. What does the name "Hadasa" represent, and what does it tell us about Ester's role in the Purim story? The historical backdrop to the Purim story is the destruction of the Bet Ha'mikdash and the Jewish People's banishment to exile. It was during this period, after the Jews had spent over half a century in Babylonia – which was taken over by Persia – that the story told in the Megilla unfolded. We can easily imagine what was going through the Jews' minds at this time. They must have assumed that their special relationship with G-d was over. After all, G-d had sent the Babylonian marauders to set His Bet Ha'mikdash ablaze, and to bring the nation into exile. Decades passed, and they remained far from their homeland. They naturally thought that they were no longer Hashem's special nation, and there was thus no longer any reason to learn Torah, to perform Misvot, or to live a religious lifestyle. Indeed, the Gemara teaches that at Ahashverosh's feast, he came dressed in the special garments of the Kohen Gadol, and used the utensils of the Bet Ha'mikdash. He was celebrating the fact that the Jews' exile was permanent, that they would never be returning to the Land of Israel and would never rebuild the Bet Ha'mikdash. The Jews participated in this feast, showing that they shared this belief. Of course, this was a grave mistake. King Shlomo, the wisest of all men, writes in the Book of Kohelet (4:12), "Ve'ha'hut Ha'meshulash Lo Bi'mhera Yinatek" – "The triple thread will not easily be snapped." A single thread can easily be torn, but if three threads are woven together, this becomes a rope, which is far more difficult to cut. The Jewish Nation is a "triple thread," having been built by three patriarchs – Abraham, Yishak and Yaakob. Had our nation been created by just a single founder, or even two founders, this would not have established a strong enough foundation to withstand the many challenges and upheavals that would occur over the course of Jewish history. But our nation was built by three "threads," three outstanding figures, laying for us a foundation that can never be broken. For this reason, the verse in the Book of Debarim (32:9) says, "Yaakob Hebel Nahalato" – Yaakob is the "rope" of G-d's "lot," the Jewish Nation. Yaakob was the third patriarch, and thus he turned the "threads" of his two predecessors into a "Hebel," a rope, that can never be broken. The Jewish Nation is eternal, and its special relationship with Hashem is eternal. A child might anger his parents, and this relationship might at times be strained, even, perhaps, under drastic circumstances, to the point where the parent must send the child out of the home for a period of time, but he will always be their child, and their love for him will always remain. Similarly, even when Hashem punishes Am Yisrael, and even when He drives us into exile, His love for His treasured nation is everlasting. This was Ester's message to the Jewish People when they faced the threat of annihilation. They had despaired, figuring that G-d had abandoned them, but she reminded them that their bond with Hashem is everlasting and unconditional. She therefore decreed a three-day fast – to remind them of the "Hut Ha'meshulash," the "triple thread" that forms the foundation of Am Yisrael, which cannot ever be broken. Ester was therefore called "Hadasa," an allusion to the "Hadas," the myrtle branch, one of the four species we take on Sukkot. The Torah calls the Hadas "Anaf Etz Abot" (Vayikra 23:40) – a branch with a thick covering of leaves – and Rashi explains this to mean "Kelu'im Ke'hebel" – "braided like a rope." The leaves of the Hadas branch grow in groups of three, with every three leaves emerging from the same spot on the stem. The Hadas' thick covering of leaves is thus likened to a rope, three threads woven together, and it symbolizes the concept of "Yaakob Hebel Nahalato," G-d's eternal bond with the Jewish Nation. In fact, the word "Hut" (thread) in Gematria equals 23, such that three threads are represented by the number 69 (23 X 3) – which is the Gematria of "Hadas." Ester was called "Hadasa" because this was precisely the message she conveyed to the Jews in exile – that Hashem's love for them was everlasting, that this bond could never be broken. We all recognize the numerous spiritual problems that plague the Jewish People in our day and age. It is clear to all of us that there is so much to improve, so many difficult problems to address. But we must never feel discouraged or fall into despair. At no point may we ever think, as the Jews in Persia thought, that Hashem no longer loves us or cares about us, that our special relationship with Him has ended. We must remember that our special bond can never be broken, that Hashem loves us under all circumstances, even when we aren't acting as we should. Sometimes this love is more evident, and sometimes less, but we must believe that it is always present. This awareness should give us the encouragement and resolve we need to work toward growth and improvement, to strive to elevate ourselves as well as our fellow Jews, and thereby strengthen the eternal bond between us and our Creator.

This Week's Parasha Essay is dedicated in memory of RACHEL Bat SARAH The Torah in Parashat Teruma presents the laws for the construction of the Mishkan, which is where sacrifices were offered until the building of the Bet Ha'mikdash in Jerusalem. Later, in Parashat Vayakhel, we read of the fulfillment of these commands, how the Mishkan and its furnishings were built. Already the Gemara (Berachot 55a) notes the glaring discrepancy between the sequence of the commands presented here in Parashat Teruma, and the execution of these commands in Parashat Vayakhel. When G-d presented the instructions for building the Mishkan, He began with the furnishings, detailing the instructions regarding the ark, the table, the Menorah, and the altar, before proceeding to the instructions regarding the structure of the Mishkan. In Parashat Vayakhel, however, we read that the artisans first constructed the Mishkan, and only then built the furnishings. The Gemara tells that when Moshe relayed G-d's instructions – in the sequence they were given – to Besalel, the chief artisan, Besalel pointed out that the sequence was backward. He noted that the building must be constructed first, before the furnishings, as otherwise there will be nowhere to store the furnishings in the interim. Moshe confirmed to Besalel that he was correct. The question remains, however, why did Hashem present the commands regarding the furnishings before presenting the requirements for building the structure, if He in fact wanted the building to be constructed first? Rav Yehoshua Heller (1814-1880), in his Dibreh Yehoshua, offers an approach to answer this question (which also explains a number of other discrepancies between the commands in Parashat Teruma and the execution of these instructions in Parashat Vayakhel). He attributes the change in sequence to the event of Het Ha'egel – the sin of the golden calf – which transpired in between. Hashem presented these commands before the sin of the golden calf, and thus the instructions reflect the reality before Beneh Yisrael worshipped the calf, when they were still on the pristine spiritual level that they had attained at the time of Matan Torah. The building of the Mishkan, however, occurred after Het Ha'egel, when the people had fallen from that level. The structure of the Mishkan, Rav Heller explains, represents the human body, our limbs, the actions we perform, whereas the furnishings housed in the Mishkan symbolize our interior, our emotions, our feelings. Ideally, our feelings and our actions should be fully in synch with one another. We should always feel motivated to serve Hashem, to fulfill His will, to perform the Misvot, to live the way we are supposed to live, such that our actions – our Misva observance – are a natural outgrowth of our emotions. Indeed, the great Sadikim live with ongoing, consistent passion, and are constantly driven to perform Misvot. Most of us, however, often do not feel this passion. Sometimes we feel motivated and driven to achieve and excel, but sometimes we don't. And the Ramhal (Rav Moshe Haim Luzzato, Italy, 1707-1746), in his classic work Mesilat Yesharim, writes that when a person feels unmotivated, he should push himself to perform Misvot anyway – and his actions will then awaken his motivation. Once we get started, once we accustom ourselves to doing the right thing even when we don't feel like it, the feelings will come. Hence, Rav Heller explains, before Het Ha'egel, when Beneh Yisrael were on a high spiritual level, the furnishings preceded the structure. The people felt the strong drive and desire to serve Hashem, and this passion led them to action. After the sin of the golden calf, however, this passion was not always present. And so at this point, it was necessary for the structure to precede the interior. We often need to perform the actions even when we lack motivation and enthusiasm, and this will gradually ignite our passion for Misvot. This insight, I am certain, resonates with each and every one of us. We have all had occasions when we feel unmotivated, when we were simply "not in the mood," when we had little or no desire to get out of bed on time for shul, to attend a Shiur, to learn, to donate money to charity, or to do other Misvot. The important thing when this happens is to push ourselves do to it anyway, even without motivation, and trust that our efforts will, with time, arouse our emotion and kindle our enthusiasm for Misvot. Although ideally our passion for Misvot should lead us to perform Misvot, sometimes we need to reverse the sequence, to go "outside-in," by first performing the deeds which will have the effect of arousing our enthusiasm.

As part of the event of Matan Torah, when G-d revealed Himself to Beneh Yisrael and gave the Torah, Moshe constructed an altar and had sacrifices offered. We read that Moshe placed half the blood in basins, from which he later sprinkled blood on the people, and he poured the other half on the altar (Shemot 24:6). Rashi, surprisingly, comments that the division of the blood into two halves was done by an angel. It would be impossible for a human being to divide the blood in two precisely equal halves, and so an angel was sent from the heavens to do this. We must wonder, why did Hashem find it necessary to dispatch an angel for this purpose? Why was it so critical for the halves to be precisely equal? Would these sacrifices have been in any way deficient if one portion of blood was slightly larger than the other? Rav Yitzchak Hutner (1906-1980) answered this question by exploring the symbolism of the division of the blood at the time of Matan Torah. If we would ask most Jews to define the term "religious Jew," to describe the defining characteristics of people referred to with this term, most would likely mention things like Shabbat observance, modest dress, eating kosher, synagogue attendance and daily Tefilot. People generally tend to define "religious" as ritual observance. In truth, however, these rituals are only half the story. Ethical conduct, integrity, kindness and sensitivity to others are no less a part of Torah than praying three times a day, Shabbat, Kashrut, and Seniut (modesty). In fact, Rashi begins his comments to our Parasha, Parashat Mishpatim, by noting the significance of the first letter of this Parasha: "VE'eleh Ha'mishpatim" – "AND these are the statutes…" Rashi writes that this letter – the conjunction "Ve-" ("And") – indicates a connection between the end of the previous Parasha, which tells of the Revelation and the Ten Commandments, and the civil laws presented in Parashat Mishpatim. Just as the Ten Commandments were proclaimed at Mount Sinai, so were the laws of Parashat Mishpatim given at Mount Sinai. We can never draw a wedge between Torah and ethical interpersonal conduct. The laws of Parashat Mishpatim, which govern the way we treat our fellow, are no less a part of the Torah as any of the other Misvot. So crucial is this message, Rav Hutner explained, that Hashem sent an angel to divide the sacrificial blood at the time of Matan Torah into two precisely equal parts. It was critical to convey the message that neither half of Torah carries even slightly more weight than the other. The two areas of Torah life – our obligations to Hashem, and our obligations to other people – are of exactly the same level of importance, and we must never allow ourselves to prioritize or emphasize one over the other to even the slightest degree. It is likely no coincidence that Parashat Mishpatim, the section in which this point is expressed, is always read around the time of 25 Shevat, the Yahrtzeit of Rav Yisrael Salanter (1809-1883), founder of the Mussar movement. Rav Yisrael placed very strong emphasis on maintaining this balance, on not allowing our pursuit of spiritual excellence to result in compromises in our Middot (character traits). One famous example is the time when his students approached him before they went to bake Masot in preparation for Pesach, to ask which stringencies are proper for them to observe when baking Masot. "Be very careful not to yell at the woman in charge of cleaning the factory," Rav Yisrael replied. "She's a widow. Concern for her feelings is the most important stringency you should observe." Rav Yisrael feared that in the students' concern to maintain the strictest Halachic standards for the Masot, they might neglect the more basic religious obligation to speak to widows with sensitivity and respect. As we approach his Yahrtzeit, let us internalize this vitally important lesson, and ensure to ascribe the same degree importance to both parts of the Torah, because this is what being a complete Jew means.

Standing firm in Biblical truth is more important than ever in today's culture. In this episode, Noleen Sedra shares her powerful testimony, the impact of growing up in a Godly home, and her journey of faith alongside her husband, Pastor Andrew Sedra. From the challenges of leading a church in Australia to confronting modern cultural issues, Noleen speaks with clarity and conviction on faith, family, and Biblical womanhood. Discover how to live with boldness, embrace God's design, and raise the next generation to stand strong in truth. #FaithAndFamily #BiblicalWomanhood #StandForTruth

This episode features a message from guest Pastor Andrew Sedra of Echo Church in Australia. He emphasizes the importance of standing firm in biblical truth, even when faced with challenges. Pastor Sedra encourages believers to uphold their faith with courage and conviction, highlighting that living out God's truth is essential regardless of the opposition one might encounter.#andrewsedra #truthatallcosts #biblicaltruth

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Today, we sit down with Pastor Andrew Sedra, founder and lead pastor of Echo Church in Australia, to discuss how the church in America and the West has been weakened by leftist ideology and why so many Christians are leaving what he calls the "feminized" church that appeals so much more to woke women than to men. Andrew tells us about what it was like growing up Christian in the Middle East and how Christianity in the Middle East is being completely eradicated. We also talk about what Andrew says is an "unholy alliance" between Islam and leftist ideology and how it is colonizing and taking over the West. And Andrew tells us more about Australia's COVID tyranny and why America is truly exceptional with its values and laws surrounding freedom of speech and religious expression. Buy Allie's new book, "Toxic Empathy: How Progressives Exploit Christian Compassion": https://a.co/d/4COtBxy --- Timecodes: (01:07) Pastor Andrew Sedra introduction (02:38) Feminization of the church (11:37) Growing up in the middle east (15:45) Leftists being pro-Islam (19:52) Why communism hates Israel (23:40) Anti-Israel shift on the right  (27:58) Misplaced mothering and COVID tyranny (36:40) American exceptionalism (39:30) Reaction to LGBT progressivism ---   Today's Sponsors: Seven Weeks - Experience the best coffee while supporting the pro-life movement with Seven Weeks Coffee; use code ALLIE at https://www.sevenweekscoffee.com to save up to 25% and help save lives. Good Ranchers — Go to GoodRanchers.com and use code ALLIE at checkout to claim $25 off, free express shipping, and your choice of FREE ground beef, chicken, or salmon in every order for an entire year. A'del — Try A'del's hand-crafted, artisan, small-batch cosmetics and use promo code ALLIE 25% off your first time purchase at AdelNaturalCosmetics.com Hillsdale College — Hillsdale College is offering more than 40 free online courses they offer on History, Economics, Politics, Philosophy, and more, including their free course, "Introduction to Aristotle's Ethics: How to Lead a Good Life," all available for FREE. Go to https://hillsdale.edu/relatable to enroll. --- Related Episodes: Ep 1124 | Is the Church to Blame for Andrew Tate? https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/ep-1124-is-the-church-to-blame-for-andrew-tate/id1359249098?i=1000684295317 Ep 1115 | Islam Taught Her to Hate Christians — Then She Became One | Guest: Lily Meschi https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/ep-1115-islam-taught-her-to-hate-christians-then-she/id1359249098?i=1000680609640 Ep 475 | The Police State Down Under https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/ep-475-the-police-state-down-under/id1359249098?i=1000532846172 ---   Buy Allie's book, You're Not Enough (& That's Okay): Escaping the Toxic Culture of Self-Love: https://alliebethstuckey.com/book Relatable merchandise – use promo code 'ALLIE10' for a discount: https://shop.blazemedia.com/collections/allie-stuckey Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In Australia, radical Muslims are chanting to exterminate the country's Jews — while police focus on the threat of "Christian nationalists," harass churches, and impose nationwide censorship. Pastor Andrew Sedra describes how his once-Christian nation has gone astray, and how Islam will be God's judgment on nations that reject His teachings.Support the show: http://www.charliekirk.com/supportSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.