Shifting the Blame Game

Parshas Toldos

Posted on November 18, 2025 (5786) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

 

This week’s Torah portion begins and ends by contrasting the bedrock values that defined the fundamental differences between Yaakov and Esav. The Torah sums up their radically divergent personalities as evidenced from their earliest years: Yaakov chose to be an Ish Ohalim, “a man of the tent,” whose primary pursuit was the fulfillment of Hashem’s will, whereas Eisav was a man of the field, a hunter who sought out power and dominion.

 

Throughout the parsha, we see how the two brothers were case studies in opposites: Yaakov was a person with a gentle and sensitive nature, Eisav gloried in being tough and coarse. The jealousy and anger that Eisav harbored toward his brother stands in stark contrast to Yaakov’s forgiving and non-combative nature. Towards the end of the Torah portion, another fundamental difference between the brothers surface-their utterly different ways of dealing with life’s challenges and setbacks.

 

Eisav is angry and disillusioned at having been by-passed when Yitzchok bestowed on Yaakov the Divine blessings of material success and prosperity. His brother had usurped him and gained for himself these precious blessings that Eisav felt should be rightfully his. The Torah describes how Eisav went on the warpath and would have killed Yaakov were it not for the anguish this would have brought to his parents. Instead, he vented his extreme disappointment by rationalizing that it was through no fault of his own but rather the fault of his idol worshipping wives that he had not been granted the blessings by his father.

 

The parsha relates that in line with this rationalization, Eisav took a third wife, Bosmas, the daughter of Ishmael. The commentaries shed light on his thinking. “By marrying someone from my father’s family, a daughter of Ishmael,” he reasoned, “I’ll surely regain my position of authority in the family and will once again be able to ingratiate myself to my father.”

 

Let us contrast his behavior with the response of Abraham after the Akeidah. HaShem tests Avraham with the most demanding challenge possible. He instructs Avraham to slaughter his own beloved son, the son who guaranteed his legacy would be perpetuated for future generations. Unflinchingly, Avraham takes his son on this fateful journey, leading him to Mount Moriah, where he will carry out Hashem’s command. With unfaltering step, he prepares to carry out his mission. Although the angel intercedes before the act can be carried out and tells him it was simply a test that he passed with flying colors, Avraham is not at peace.

 

His desire to give away his most precious possession to G-d needed physical expression. He poured this consuming desire into the sacrifice of the lamb that he found nearby. The Heavenly voice then proclaimed that through the merit of this unparalleled act of devotion to G-d, Avraham secured for himself and his future generations an outpouring of Divine blessing; eternal possession of the land of Israel and the promise of descendants as numerous as the stars of the heavens.

 

One might expect Avraham to leave the site of the Akeidah full of satisfaction at having behaved so nobly. Yet we learn from the commentaries that he felt far from complacent.

 

“Perhaps I could have done something different so that HaShem would have allowed me to sacrifice Isaac,” he wondered. “Perhaps I could have married him off at a younger age in which case he would have already had children, and HaShem would have allowed me to carry out the Akeidah literally, not figuratively.” The Torah tells us that immediately after this episode, Avraham was told that Rivka, Isaac’s designated bride to be, had just been born. He was thus placated.

 

Avraham’s reaction to the challenge of the Akeida throws the differences in character between he and Eisav into bold relief. The name “Esav” stems from the word “ah’suy,” which means “finished, perfect,” for the wicked feel they are perfect products, never in need of improvement or change. They will never accept responsibility for their own shortcomings and are expert at shifting the blame to others. The righteous, by contrast, are always willing to self-reflect, to try to pinpoint where and how they could have behaved better.

 

That message is one from which we can all benefit. Only when we can admit our weaknesses and exhibit the strength of character to work on improving ourselves will we be able to grow spiritually to the point of realizing our own spiritual destiny.

 

Wishing you a wonderful Shabbos!

 

The Test of Time

Parshas Toldos

Posted on November 21, 2014 (5775) By Rabbi Yaakov Menken | Series: Lifeline | Level: Beginner

 

The Torah reading this week begins: “These are the generations of Yitzchak ben Avraham, Avraham fathered Yitzchak” [25:19]. It seems redundant to say that “Avraham fathered Yitzchak” — the Torah has, by this time, presented in great detail the circumstances of Yitzchak’s birth, his near sacrifice, and the process by which his wife was identified and brought from her home to marry him. Even in this verse, the Torah calls him “Yitzchak ben Avraham,” which of course means Avraham was his father! What’s the message?

 

The Ramban [Nachmanides] points out that at the end of last week’s reading, the Torah describes “the generations of Yishmael ben Avraham” [25:12], so you might think the two are equal. “Therefore, the Torah goes back and says Avraham gave birth to Yitzchok, to say that Yitzchak alone is his progeny.” Yitzchok was the fulfillment of Avraham’s potential, the creation of another patriarch of the Jewish nation. Yitzchok, not Yishmael “whom Hagar, the Egyptian maidservant of Sarah, birthed to Avraham” [the continuation of 25:12] nor any of the children of Keturah, was the one who carried Avraham’s mission forward.

 

From the beginning, the Torah talks about the importance of carrying the Jewish mission from one generation to the next. Today, of course, a person is a member of the Jewish people whether or not he or she is even aware of it, much less able to personally educate the next generation. But nonetheless, Judaism requires that we educate both ourselves and our children.

 

When Project Genesis started over twenty years ago, the first National Jewish Population Survey had recently shocked the Jewish establishment with an intermarriage rate of over 50% among young Jews, and a general decline in Jewish affiliation. In a state of near panic, complete with projections of only 10,000 Jews remaining in the New York area by the end of the 21st century, money was suddenly allocated for “Jewish continuity” programming. Most of that money, however, was (and is still) invested in social programming, music and dance — and as the recent Pew Report showed us, nothing has changed.

 

Nothing, that is, save the rapid growth of communities where Jewish day school is the norm, rather than the exception. The Orthodox community has defied the demographic trends identified by the NJPS, recognizing that there is a core mission to transmit Avraham’s message to the next generation. Helping every Jew to grasp hold of our heritage is not a way, but the way, to ensure that he or she is part of the Jewish future.

 

 

Focus on the Future

Parshas Chayei Sarah

Posted on October 31, 2018 (5779) By Rabbi Berel Wein | Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner

 

The loss of one’s beloved spouse, especially after many years and decades of marriage and shared life, is always a traumatic and shattering blow. Those of us, who unfortunately have also experienced this occurrence of Avraham’s life in our own lives can testify as to the emotional damage and even physical harm that this sad experience can occasion.

 

We see from the life of our father Jacob that even decades later he reminds his children and himself of the pain and suffering caused by the death of his beloved wife, Rachel. In essence, it seems that Jacob never again was the same person after the death of Rachel. However, Avraham apparently dealt with the death of Sarah in a more stoic fashion. The Torah itself indicates this by inference, when it wrote concerning Avraham’s reaction to the tragedy by using a small letter kaf in its description of the grief and weeping of Avraham over the death of Sarah.

 

It is not that Avraham is less grieved at the loss of Sarah then Jacob was at the death of Rachel, It is rather that after all of the challenges and trials that Avraham had already endured, his attitude towards life and its vicissitudes was now always one of looking forward and never dwelling on the past.

 

Those who live exclusively in the past are doomed to self-pity and great emotional angst. This only causes a sense of victimhood and hopelessness. It reflects itself in every aspect of later life and stunts any further spiritual, social, personal or societal growth. The greatness of Avraham, as taught us by the Mishnah, was his resilience and continued spiritual and personal growth.

 

Avraham constantly looked forward – ahead – and never dwelled on past misfortune.

 

I heard an outstanding speech delivered by George Deek, a Christian Arab who is a member of the Israeli Foreign Office. In telling the story of his life he describes how his family lived in Jaffa for many generations and how they fled to Lebanon during the 1948 War of Independence.

 

Sensing the squalor and political manipulation of the refugees by the Arab powers, whose sole goal was the destruction of Israel and not in saving and resettling the refugees, his grandfather escaped Lebanon and somehow brought the family back to Jaffa and Israel, regained his job with the Israel Electric Company. He raised generations of successful professionals, all citizens of Israel.

 

He said that the Jewish refugees from Europe and the Moslem world attempted to forget their past and build a new future for themselves and their descendants when they arrived in Israel.

The Palestinian Arab refugees, under the misguided leadership of their spiritual and temporal heads, reveled instead in their past defeats, in their legend of nakba (the catastrophe of Israel’s formation) and, in the main, devoted themselves to attempting to destroy Israel rather than rehabilitating themselves.

 

That attitude and mindset has served them badly and cost them dearly. The past needs to be remembered and recalled, treasured and instructive to us. However, it is the future and what we make of it that ultimately determines our worth and our fate. That is one of the great lessons to be derived from the story of the life of our father Avraham.

 

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Berel Wein

 

The Search for Unity

Parshas Chayei Sarah

Posted on November 1, 2018 (5779) By Rabbi Yaakov Menken | Series: Lifeline | Level: Beginner

 

Readers know that I have written about anti-Semitism for a long time. Our hearts reel at its manifestation in a Pittsburgh synagogue last Shabbos morning.

 

The Medrash says that Sarah passed away when she believed that her son Yitzchak had indeed died at HaShem’s command. Not only was he her only son, but he was the representative of Jewish values into the next generation. Considering all that she and her husband had done to condemn human sacrifice, so common in the pagan world, she believed that all was lost.

 

It is the mission of the Jewish nation to carry forward these same holy values, and it is for this reason that we are hated. Blame for anti-Semitism lies only with anti-Semites, with those who encourage anti-Semitic tropes and lies. As Jews, our response to tragedy must begin, as always, with prayer and sincere Teshuvah (repentance) and introspection. We must focus again upon the Jewish mission, and upon the fact that we, all Jews, are in this together.

 

The words of the Chief Rabbi of Israel, which were horribly distorted and misreported, were correct. What he said, and what we must all endorse, is that we should reject any effort to discuss what “type” of Jews or synagogue was attacked. This is no time for disputes between Jews. They were Jews going to synagogue to pray as Jews, and it is for that reason that they were targeted. Anti-Semitic violence affects all of us precisely because Robert Bowers, like Haman and Hitler, took aim at each and every one of us. He didn’t care who you voted for, where you pray, or what you believe. Every single Jew was fired upon last Shabbos, solely due to being a Jew.

 

That Farrakhan referred to Jews as termites, while Bowers referred to a “kike infestation,” is no coincidence – because their ideology is the same, at least when it comes to Jews. The image of Jews as parasites was common in Nazi literature, and long before.

 

As always, we must look at anti-Semitism through the lens of our long history. We have seen this before, and constantly: the Overland Park, Kansas JCC in 2014, the U.S. Holocaust Museum in 2009, the Crown Heights riot of 1991. 2006 in Seattle, 1999 in Los Angeles, 1991 in Crown Heights. It is why synagogues from France to Denmark are defended with armed troops less than 75 years after the Holocaust… and, of course, it is the “why” of the Holocaust itself.

As it has been for thousands of years, it is about hatred for G-d, Torah and values — and the same genocidal mission shared by Haman, Hitler and Bowers: “All Jews Must Die.”

 

That is exactly why all decent people must fight it, and why all Jews must continue to proudly identify as Jews. Together.

 

 

Godliness and Jewish Life

Parshas Vayera

Posted on November 1, 2012 (5773) By Rabbi Berel Wein | Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner

 

G-dliness is a matter of perception – the perception of the individual himself or herself, as well as the perception of the outside society. Avraham is recognized, even by his pagan peers, as being a person of G-dliness in their midst. A G-dly person is recognizable to others through behavior, speech, and interpersonal relationships. That is what Rabbi Yisrael Lipkin of Salant meant in his famous statement: “The other person’s welfare in this world is the key to my welfare in the eternal world.”

 

The rabbis of the Talmud always emphasized the importance of one’s reputation amongst others in his society. “What do the other human beings say about him?” was always their test of resident G-dliness in an individual. Avraham has an open hand and an open heart, a concern for others – even those who are his spiritual enemies and are wrongdoers.

 

Avraham, however, is not a pacifist nor is he weak and naïve in the face of evil. He goes to war to save Lot and outwits both Pharaoh and Avimelech in their nefarious behavior toward his wife, Sarah. He is the perfect example and role model for the necessary practicality and realism of life, coupled with the G-dly compassion for other human beings and their physical and spiritual plights.

 

In Judaism, service of G-d is always inextricably bound to the service of human society. As has often been pointed out, this was the central point of Avraham’s faith, something that apparently was found to be lacking in his otherwise righteous predecessor, Noach.

 

A G-dly person has super-sensitive faculties. Avraham hears the heavenly message to leave his homeland and to journey and settle in the Land of Israel. The great Rabbi of Kotzk observed that G-d’s directive was made to all publicly but only Avraham heard it and acted upon it.

 

His G-dliness in the attitude he exhibited towards others, his self-sacrifice in defense of his G-dly convictions, his opposition to paganism and its societal and moral ills, and his acts of kindness and devotion to the help others, all combined to give him the ability to hear what others were deaf to and to see what others were blind to.

 

He is able to “see” G-d appear before him and to conduct a conversation, so to speak, with his Creator. That is the reward for and the measure of true G-dliness in a person. His G-dly personality and home environment transforms the three Bedouin Arabs who enter his tent into angels. G-dliness can be contagious just as evil is also contagious.

 

G-dliness sees the Creator in every activity and occurrence in one’s life and society. It therefore prevents pettiness, selfishness and self-aggrandizement from dominating our behavior, speech and attitudes. King David in Psalms proclaimed: “I have placed G-d before my eyes permanently!” By so doing he captured in a phrase the essence of G-dliness and Jewish life. A society that does not strive for at least a degree of G-dliness in its private lives and public environment will be afflicted with ears that hear not and eyes that see not. Hopefully, not so the people of Israel, Avraham’s children and heirs.

 

Shabat shalom,

Rabbi Berel Wein

 

 

When History Got Personal

Parshas Lech Lecha

Posted on October 17, 2018 (5779) By Rabbi Berel Wein | Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner

 

The pace of the narrative of the Torah abruptly changes with the events described in this week’s reading. Until now the Torah has dealt with large periods of time and many many generations and different numbers of human beings and nations. It concerns itself apparently with a broad overview of the origins of human civilization and of the formation of societies, tribes and nations.

 

Its narrative confirmed the idea expressed so vividly in the story of the building of the tower of Babel, that the individual human being was relatively unimportant in the grand scheme of things and that individuals mattered little in the development of the course of civilization and nation building. All of this dramatically changes with the appearance of our father Abraham and our mother Sarah.

 

The Torah now dwells on details and the lives of individuals, their hopes and disappointments, their struggles and achievements. The story of the individual thus becomes the story of the world in its entirety. Judaism teaches us that the life of an individual is really to be considered the life of the world itself. We become privy to the innermost thoughts and aspirations of Abraham and Sarah. We read of their great trials and the vicissitudes they endure in following the path of goodness and holiness in a world that was corrupted by idolatry and poisoned by violence and greed.

 

The story of mankind becomes a stand-alone narrative. Even though the big picture is certainly in the background, it is the actions and beliefs of individuals that truly set the course for the further development of civilization and humankind.

 

How often do we feel insignificant and of little consequence in the overall scheme of society, government and world affairs. After all, in a world where millions of votes are required to win a major election in democratic societies or where the rule of police and government crushes individualism in totalitarian societies, of what value is there to what an individual may think or believe.

 

But all of history has shown us that it is the individual that sets the course for human civilization and that literally a handful of people are responsible for the great changes, defeats and definitive struggles that have marked human history from its onset until today. I think this is the strongest lesson of the narrative of the lives of our father and mother, Abraham and Sarah, as recorded for us in the immortal words of the Torah.

 

The prophet Isaiah will characterize our father Abraham as being an individual, one, alone and different from all others. In this way his greatness has made him the founder of the people who are smaller in number but enormous in influence and who have fueled the progress of human civilization over the many millennia.

 

The rabbis have taught us that we are to attempt to be Abraham and Sarah in each generation of human society. We are to represent what is right and moral, lasting and valuable, to be righteous individuals in a world that often loses its moral compass and godly direction.

 

Shabbat shalom

Rabbi Berel Wein

Cloudy Vision

Parshas Lech Lecha

Posted on October 20, 2026 (5787) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

 

People who have experienced a miraculous rescue will usually tell you that their lives are forever changed. Mundane matters that had once loomed large and important, such as the pursuit of financial success and status, are suddenly rather inconsequential, while spiritual matters become the focal points of their lives. They begin to think about mortality and eternity, about the rewards of kindness, of tending primarily to the needs of the soul rather than the body. They live with a new perspective, a new awareness.

 

In this week’s Torah portion, however, we find the exact opposite happening. During the time of Abraham, the Babylonian Empire was the dominant force in the Middle East, and the small kingdoms of Canaan paid annual tribute to the imperial coffers, as did every other principality that didn’t want to be invaded and crushed. But the thought of paying tribute was irksome, and Sodom and four neighboring cities formed an alliance and rebelled. A few months later, the Babylonians arrived in force and easily defeated the rebels. They took Abraham’s nephew Lot hostage and carried off the bulk of the wealth of the vanquished cities.

 

When he heard the news, Abraham and his small group of followers pursued the imperial armies, miraculously routed them and freed Lot. He also recovered all the captured wealth of the defeated cities and returned it to the original owners, without taking even a shoelace for himself.

 

What an astonishing spectacle the people of Sodom witnessed! First, they saw the clear intervention of Heaven to affect Abraham’s victory over the massive imperial armies. Second, they saw the most phenomenal altruism on the part of Abraham, refusing the customary victor’s share of the spoils. The rapid recovery of their former grandeur and prosperity was undoubtedly the farthest thing from their minds, and yet, in not much longer than the blink of an eye, it happened.

 

What effect should this miraculous turn of events have had on the people of Sodom? Surely, they should have undergone a radical change of perspective, a total shift of focus. But they did not. In next week’s Torah portion, we read about the utter degeneracy of their lifestyle and its destruction by a rain of fire and brimstone. Why were they impervious to the miracles that took place in their behalf? Why did they remain as self-centered and greedy as ever?

 

The commentators explain that clear vision requires a certain detachment, an ability to step outside oneself and do some critical self-examination. Abraham, in his youth was able to step back from his aristocratic background and privileged social status and take a hard, objective look at the world around him. This ability opened his eyes and allowed him to recognize the existence of the Creator. The people of Sodom, however, had become so entangled in their physical existence that they were no longer able to view themselves with any degree of detachment. They saw everything through a sensual fog, and the most obvious miracles could no longer redirect their jaded minds.

 

A drunk was sitting at the curbside, taking huge gulps from a bottle of wine. His clothes were filthy and disheveled, and chunks of grime lodged in his hair.

 

“I don’t understand you,” a disgusted passerby berated the drunk. “You want to drown your life in a bottle? Fine. But why do you have to be such a slob? Why can’t you at least shake the grime out of your hair?”

 

“If I had the sense to shake the grime from my hair,” said the drunk with a twinkle in his eye, “I’d have the sense to go home and have a normal life.”

 

In our own lives, we often get caught up in the mad rush of daily life. We become absorbed in our businesses and professions and the myriad little tasks of maintaining a good standard of living. But we must never forget to retain a healthy measure of detachment, to keep everything in perspective, to know which things are truly essential, and which are just pleasant paraphernalia. And every once in a while, we should take the time to step back and examine our lives with as much honesty as we can muster. At the very least, it will engender in us the habit of seeking the truth, a habit that can only bring us benefit and fulfillment.

  

 

Stop the Flow Before the Flood

Parshas Noach

Posted on October 28, 2022 (5783) By Mordechai Dixler | Series: Lifeline | Level: Beginner

 

The story of Noah and the great flood actually began at the end of last week’s Torah portion.

 

That is when G-d determined that the moral corruption of man had reached terminal levels. His decision was to erase all of mankind, indeed the whole world, and start afresh. As this week’s reading begins, He instructs the prophet Noah, the only righteous man of his generation, to begin construction of an ark that will save his family and all the various kinds of animals.

 

Noah was given 120 years to construct this life-saving boat. The Talmud (Sanhedrin 108b) explains that G-d intended a public, 120-year spectacle as Noah completed his construction project. People would inevitably ask Noah what he was doing, and this would give him the opportunity to warn them of the impending flood, and to beg them to change their ways to prevent the destruction.

 

Sadly, his warnings went unanswered. It’s perplexing: why did no one heed his message? Given Noah’s ongoing work, the skeleton of the Ark warning humanity that the evil into which they had descended was going to destroy the world, why didn’t anyone turn away from evil and corruption? Noah was known both as a righteous man and as a prophet, so his statement of G-d’s intent was undeniably accurate. Yet, over more than a century, as multiple generations of children asked their parents about the big Ark Noah was working on, and about his prophecy, no one took his message to heart. Even when the flood rains began to fall and the truth of the prophecy was coming to life, no one changed their ways.

 

The people didn’t change, because they were not able to change. Their 120 years of stubborn refusal to budge proved that their evil was beyond repair. As the Talmud says (Eruvin 19), “The wicked, even at the gates of purgatory do not repent.” Habits have the potential to reach such a state that even if you know that your behavior is wrong, and you say you want to change, you tragically lack the ability to change.

 

Habits, and even addiction, do not usually reach the intensity of Noah’s generation. Most often, they can be changed — but its not easy. The recalcitrance of that generation is a lesson for all of us to be vigilant in our behavior and avoid forming destructive habits. The more habitual an activity is, the more difficult it becomes to break the pattern.

 

The challenge we have is that although we are wise enough to know that our behavior is wrong, our actions do not necessarily follow. The sages of the Mishna (Avos 3:22) say, “All whose deeds are more than their wisdom, their wisdom will endure.” The secret to practicing what you preach is to practice! And practice, and practice some more. When you learn a piece of wisdom, find a way to put it into practice. Commit to some small improvement, something easy, and keep to it. If your good deeds, those tiny changes, accumulate, they too will become habits, and the great wisdom you’ve learned of how to live a more meaningful, joyful, spiritual life will endure and stay with you for a lifetime. 

 

(Based on Lev Shalom, Rabbi Sholom Shvadron ztl).