Everyday Miracles

Parshas Chukas

Posted on June 15, 2021 (5781) By Rabbi Pinchas Avruch | Series: Kol HaKollel | Level: Beginner

 

The Mishna (Rosh HaShanah 3:8) notes the similarity between the raised hands of Moshe during the battle with Amalek and the copper snake atop the staff that induced healing for those bitten by the serpents following their complaint against G-d’s justice. “And it happened that when Moshe raised his hand Israel was stronger and when he lowered his hand Amalek was stronger.” (Shemos/Exodus 17:11) But could Moshe’s hands wage a battle or lose a battle? Rather this is to teach that whenever Israel looked on high and subjugated their heart to their Father in Heaven they prevailed, but if not they failed. Likewise we understand, “G-d said to Moshe, ‘Make yourself a fiery serpent and place it on a pole and it will be that anyone who was bitten will look at it and live.'” (Bamidbar/Numbers 21:8)

 

Rabbi Eliyahu Dessler (1) comments that these events demonstrate the incredible power inherent in a tangible image to impact the heart, for without such images it would be impossible for a person to focus and inculcate into the depths of his heart the spiritual concepts he has learned. The importance of this truth is why the Torah so strongly emphasizes the psychological effect of a physical icon.

 

Rabbi Dessler explains that the potential that comes from looking heavenward is the contemplation of the capacity for evil that is called “Amelek”. The nation of Amelek is the living manifestation of this awful force, but the capability for such malevolence is latent in everyone.

 

Witnessing Moshe’s hands heavenward inspired the warriors’ reflection on their own deeds and attitudes, as did the meditation of the Jewish Nation on the copper snake.

 

Rabbi Dessler further elucidates that this clarifies the rationale for the Torah’s choice of Hebrew verbiage to reference the pole – “nais” – a word that is commonly used to refer to a miracle.

 

One who contemplates the delicacy and magnificence of an orchid or the human eye appreciates that “nature” is simply the miracles to which we are accustomed due to our constant exposure. This familiarity serves to cloud our perception of the Divine in nature, such that we accept the tangible as being no more complex than its appearance indicates. Spiritual forces and consequences are easily missed and ignored. The departure from nature, that which people call “a miracle”, is the suspension of the order of nature to allow one to comprehend G-d’s role in the world and appreciate the reality of spiritual forces at play around us. One who ponders this concept realizes that those spiritual forces of miracles are no less present even when nature proceeds as one expects. Thus, the world “nais” is used to describe the staff upon which the fiery snake was affixed.

 

G-d has His plan for Creation, and our actions do not determine the outcome of events. Indeed, our responsibility during our time in this world is not to accomplish, but to make the right decisions – G-d conscious decisions – in our effort to succeed. But that does not mean our choices are meaningless. Our decision to either foster a relationship with the Divine or allow the strength of that bond to weaken and fracture impacts the spiritual realm in concrete, but humanly indiscernible, ways. Our Jewish lives are filled with icons – a Torah scroll, tzitzis strings, a mezuzah on the doorpost – to assist us in keeping our focus, to remind us of the spiritual forces and consequences, to serve as the “nais” that refreshes our appreciation of life’s daily miracles.

 

Have a Good Shabbos!

 

Imaginary Fears

Parshas Chukas Balak

Posted on June 29, 2023 (5783) By Rabbi Yaakov Menken | Series: Lifeline | Level: Beginner

 

Several years ago, one of the writers for Torah.org reached out to me in a hurry. He had made a mistake and wanted to stop the distribution of the email he had just sent.

 

What was his mistake? He had identified the weekly reading as “Parshas Bila’am” — this was, of course, in a year when Balak, half of this week’s reading, was read separately, unlike this year when it is read together with the previous parsha, Chukas.

 

Misnaming this particular parsha was what we might call a “scholar’s error:” The reading is named after the Moabite King Balak, but the story centers around Bila’am, the evil prophet hired by King Balak to curse the Jews. Balak is something of a minor figure in the parsha that carries his name; it is primarily about Bila’am!

 

But, of course, without the actions of Balak, the whole story of Bila’am would not have happened.

 

I heard the following from Rabbi Meilich Biderman, a well-known inspiring speaker. He asks, did you notice that Balak is in a panic about the Jews coming from Egypt, that he is terrified of them? He says the Jews “will eat up everything around us like the ox eats up the vegetables in the field” [22:4]. He expects the Jews to come through, ruin the fields, and eat the crops. That is what caused Balak to send messengers to Bila’am to hire him to deliver curses, and the entire parsha comes as a result of this fear.

 

Balak’s fear was entirely, unquestionably, 100% baseless. Hashem had specifically told the Jews “Do not bother Moav and do not provoke war with them, for I will not give to you from their land as an inheritance…” [Deut 2:9]. So Balak was afraid for no reason. And because he acted on his irrational fears, he brought destruction upon himself and his people.

 

What do we learn from this? The Torah, Rav Biderman said, is eternal, and there’s a lesson in here for us today. I should introduce what he says by explaining that our Sages teach that everything G-d does is good, in ways we do not understand, and specifically good for us.

 

Nothing comes to a person unless G-d wants it to be so, and He only wants the best for us.

 

So, he says, we shouldn’t be living in fear! We must remember that Hashem runs the world and there’s nothing to be afraid of. Obviously, we should behave in a way that is prudent and reasonable, but not second guess ourselves, regret bad investments, or be afraid of every distant possibility. Balak’s unfounded fears led to the entire story!

 

For those interested, it’s not really possible to retract or stop a bulk email once sent. So every subscriber did receive a class entitled “Parshas Bila’am” that day. Yet the teacher had nothing to be afraid of—few noticed, and none, to my knowledge, lost any respect for him. It was, after all, a wise man’s error!

 

It is interesting that Rabbi Biderman is often described as a Mashpia, which translates as “influencer.” In today’s culture, an “influencer” is a teenager or twentysomething with many social media followers, who convinces them to buy the brands that he or she is being paid to promote. Think about the difference between one “influencer” and the other. We can all be influenced, it’s just a matter of which influencers we listen to!

 

 

To Balance the Ego

Parshas Korach

Posted on June 19, 2014 (5774) By Rabbi Berel Wein | Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner

 

In the entire biblical narrative of the sojourn of the Jewish people in the desert of Sinai, the tribe of Levi is not mentioned as being a participant in any of the rebellions and mutinies of the Jewish people against G-d and Moshe. The tribe of Levi stood firm in its faith and loyalty during the disaster of the Golden Calf and rallied to the side of Moshe to stem that tide of idolatry.

 

In the complaints mounted against Moshe and G-d about water and food, the tribe of Levi is not to be found. The tribe of Levi did not participate in the mission of the spies and explorers of the Land of Israel and there is opinion that it was not included in the decree that that generation would die in the desert and never see the Land of Israel. Yet this seemingly impeccable record is tarnished by the events described in this week’s parsha.

 

Here, apparently, the tribe of Levi, through Korach and his supporters, are the leaders of a very serious rebellion against the authority of Moshe. Moshe himself is a Levite and when he criticizes the behavior of the tribe of Levi – “is it not enough for you to be the chosen servants of the Lord in your Levite status that you must insist that you will also be the priestly class of Israel?!” he certainly does so with heavy heart and great bitterness. In effect he is demanding to know what happened to turn the holy tribe of Levi into a rebellious group whose punishment would be their being swallowed up by the earth.

 

One of my favorite truisms in life is that one is never to underestimate the power of ego. The Great War of 1914-18 was in a great measure caused and driven by the egotistical whims of some of the main monarchs of Europe who were then in power. The Talmud records for us that the evil but potentially great King of Israel, Yeravam ben Nvat, was offered by G-d, so to speak, to stroll in Paradise alongside King David and G-d Himself, again, so to speak.

 

The Talmud tells us that Yeravam refused the offer because King David would have preference of place over him on that walk in Heaven. The message and moral that the Talmud means to convey with this story is how dangerous and tragic an inflated ego can be to one’s self and, if one is in a position of leadership and authority it, may affect others as well.

 

Korach and the tribe of Levi fall victim to their inflated egos. Their sense of self is now far from reality and responsibility. One cannot be without ego and self-pride. Yet these attributes must be tempered by perspective, logic and a sense of loyalty and obedience to the word of G-d.

 

That, in my opinion. is the basic lesson of this week’s parsha.

 

Moshe’s overriding sense of modesty diminishes the drive of his own ego and he is able to say “would that all of G-d’s congregation could join me as prophets.” Korach, consumed by his unjustly inflated ego, destroys himself and many others in his quest for positions that do not belong to him nor is he worthy of having.

 

Shabbat shalom

Rabbi Berel Wein

 

The Difference

Parshas Korach

Posted on June 30, 2022 (5782) By Rabbi Label Lam | Series: Dvar Torah | Level: Beginner

 

Korach the son of Izhar, the son of Kohas, the son of Levi took along with Dasan and Aviram, the sons of Eliav, and On the son of Peles, descendants of Reuven. They confronted Moshe together with two hundred and fifty men from the children of Israel, chieftains of the congregation, representatives of the assembly, men of repute. They assembled against Moshe and Aaron, and said to them, “You take too much upon yourselves, for the entire congregation are all holy, and HASHEM is in their midst. So why do you raise yourselves above HASHEM’s assembly?” (Bamidbar 16:1-3)

It’s not so easy to figure out what Korach was thinking. By challenging Moshe, he was challenging the authority of HASHEM. Moshe had not decided on his own that his brother Aaron should be elevated to become the Kohain HaGadol. Even if Korach wanted that for himself, who was his protest aimed at? Moshe!? No! He was fighting against HASHEM! Korach must have known that Moshe did not speak on his own or for himself.

 

Somebody shared an answer with me that since HASHEM tends ear and is responsive to Tzadkim, as it says in Tehillim, “the will of those who fear Him He will do…”, then perhaps Aaron was chosen by HASHEM because this was the wish of Moshe. So, he suspected about Moshe the personal motive that he himself possessed. In psychology this is called projection or as the Talmud pithily states, “Kol HaPosel, B’Mumo Posel!” – “Anyone who finds fault in others, it is with his own fault that he finds fault.” In the street they say, “When you point a finger at someone else, don’t forget that there are three fingers pointing back at you.”

 

What was Korach’s problem? At the risk of oversimplifying matters, I think it can be reduced to a simple and yet extraordinarily helpful distinction. The statement seems to have gained universal acceptance and use. The Rambam writes that we should accept wisdom from whoever says it. Theologian Reinhold Niebuhr became most famous for penning the words that crown every Alcoholics Anonymous meeting and the like.

 

It’s called The Serenity Prayer and I have yet to find a problem in or an objection to this statement. It goes like this, “HASHEM grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

 

It could be that most problems that we have or think we have spawned from not “knowing the difference” between what we can change and what we cannot change. Too often difficulties arise when one finds himself courageously trying to change those things that he should be serenely trying to accept, while at the same time serenely accepting those things he should be courageously trying to change.

 

Kayin had this same problem, way back in the beginning of human history. His brother Hevel improved on something that he initiated and HASHEM gave Hevel a Divine applause for his efforts. Kaiyn did not get the same recognition. “He was very angry and his face fell.” HASHEM enters as the therapist of all therapists and asks him two questions. “Why are you angry and why are you depressed?” These are two opposite emotions. We are angry when someone usurps our power. That means we feel powerful. We are depressed when we feel powerless. So, is Kayin powerful or powerless? He is powerless over his brother’s behavior and HASHEM’s reaction. He is only powerful over himself. His feelings are real but they are plugged into the wrong places.

 

He is angry against his brother and/or HASHEM over whom he has no control and at the same time he surrenders to the only one he is responsible for changing, himself. HASHEM gave him a pep talk and told that he has the option to improve and be equally worthy of an ovation, but it didn’t work out. As the poets sang, “A man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest…” Or as the bad joke goes, “How many psychiatrists does it take to change a lightbulb? One! But the lightbulb has got to want to change!” Kayin chose rather than improving himself or living with the misery of the status quo to bring his brother down! Not knowing the difference between what we can and cannot change makes all the difference.

 

Wealth Risks

Parshas Korach

Posted on June 10, 2021 (5781) By Rabbi Berel Wein | Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner

 

The Torah teaches us in this week’s reading that one should never underestimate the power and influence that ego and arrogance can play within the lives of people who are otherwise seen as wise, capable, and even moral. Throughout the ages, the commentators have asked themselves the famous question, quoted by Rashi and based on midrash: “What drove Korach to commit such a foolish act?”

 

Rashi points out that Korach understood that his descendants in future generations would be prominent people of great leadership. He could not imagine that they would achieve such a status of power and recognition when he himself was not able to boast of such an achievement. While this explanation certainly cast some light on the issue, it does not fully resolve the problem.

 

There are many instances in life and history when later generations of a certain family rose to power and influence, even though their origins were humble. Most commentators fall back on the idea that it was the great wealth that Korach possessed that drove him to this folly of behavior.

 

We are aware that wealth and money many times do strange things to otherwise normal people. The Talmud always pictured money – coins – as being made of fire. They can warm and illuminate or burn and destroy. That certainly is true of the nature of money and how it affects individuals, especially those who have become wealthy over a short period of time. Our world is full of examples of wealthy people who suddenly become experts in all sorts of disciplines in life, whereas before they were wealthy, did not claim such expertise.

 

It is interesting to note that the Torah sought to limit the potential for any of the Levite families from becoming exceedingly wealthy. Levites in the land of Israel were subject to public service.

 

Their income was based upon the goodwill of their Israelite neighbors, who would grant them their share of the food ordained by the Torah. I imagine that no matter how much of the tithe any given Levite would have received, the feeling of being wealthy – certainly, exceedingly wealthy – would not ever be experienced.

 

People who are dependent upon the goodwill of others never feel themselves as secure as those who possess great wealth. The truth is that no one is secure, and that even great wealth can disappear in an unknown and unpredictable fashion. Nevertheless, when a person knows that he or she does not possess great wealth, that person is more careful and circumspect in advancing opinions and demanding honor. The combination of the natural ego that exists within all of us, and especially those like Korach who have aristocratic bloodlines combined with the bounty of great wealth, can oftentimes be a lethal mix that leads to disaster. That certainly was the case regarding Korach and his group of followers.

 

Shabbat shalom

Rabbi Berel Wein

 

Make a “See” Change

Parshas Shlach

Posted on June 24, 2022 (5782) By Mordechai Dixler | Series: Lifeline | Level: Beginner

 

Before entering the land of Israel, the Jewish people asked to send in spies to understand the challenges they would face as they conquer the promised land. Moses sent twelve spies, all respected representatives of each of the twelve tribes. Among them were the saintly Joshua and Caleb. Upon their return all but Joshua and Caleb reported on the titanic inhabitants and enormous fruits they found. They claimed the conquest appeared impossible. Caleb protested their assessment, but they insisted it is a land “that consumes its inhabitants; and all the people we saw in it, are men of great stature.”

 

The Talmud (Sota 35) explains that they noticed there were funeral processions everywhere they went. People seemed to be dying all around them, and they therefore concluded it was “a land that consumes its inhabitants.” The Talmud teaches that G-d lamented their poor judgement, saying, “My intention was positive, and their thoughts were negative.” In reality, G-d purposely orchestrated these funerals so the natives would be involved with the processions and burials, and would not pay attention to or question the foreign spies surveying the land.

 

As we learned last week, two can observe the same scene, experience the same set of circumstances, yet interpret it in completely different ways.

 

The story is told of a visitor to an art museum who commented to the gallery curator on his way out that he was disappointed to see that all the paintings and sculptures lacked detail and the colors were dull and uninteresting.

 

The curator then handed the man a cloth and a bottle of glass cleaner and said, “Of course, sir.

 

Your glasses are all smudged. I can barely see your eyes. It’s no wonder everything appears blurry and dull!”

 

Through “rosy glasses” the land would have appeared healthy and vibrant. The large fruits, and powerful citizenry only testified to the robust resources and environment of the new land. With a brighter attitude and outlook they would have understood that if people were dying within such bounty, an unnatural phenomenon, it must have been orchestrated by G-d to help their mission. This should have served as encouragement, a sign that G-d would not abandon them when they enter the land. He was making His presence and assistance obvious, but their vision was obstructed by their corrupted perspective.

 

A negative attitude can cloud our vision and prevent us from seeing G-d’s presence, and the blessings in our lives. When faced with darkness try thinking, “How would this appear if I was in a better mood? Is this really so terrible, or is it just my blurry glasses?” His intention is for our ultimate good. Sometimes it just takes a cloth and a bottle of glass cleaner to see it. 

 

(Based on Birkas Peretz, Rabbi Yaakov Yisrael Kanievsky zt”l)

Gentle Reminders

 

Parshas Shlach

Posted on June 25, 2024 (5784) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

 

The universal image of the devout Jew is a praying figure wrapped in a tallis, but it is not the tallis that is significant. Rather, it is the long fringes on each of its four corners. At the conclusion of this week’s Torah portion, we read that these fringes were to be dyed a particular shade of blue called techeiles. What was the significance of this particular shade of blue?

 

The Talmud explains: “Because techeiles is reminiscent of the sea, and the sea is reminiscent of the sky, and the sky is reminiscent of the Kiseh Hakavod, Hashem’s celestial throne.” Wearing techeileth, therefore, draws the mind to thoughts of Hashem and is a source of constant inspiration.

 

The questions immediately arise: Why do we need any memory devices at all to remind us of Hashem? Why doesn’t the Torah simply command us to think of Hashem continuously?

 

Furthermore, why does the Torah choose techeiles which reminds us of Hashem in such a roundabout way? Why doesn’t the Torah simply choose a color directly associated with Him?

 

The commentators point out that our natural tendency of people is to connect what we see with whatever is dear to our hearts. Thus, a businessman spotting a piece of paper on the ground will think of the problems of waste disposal, the new technologies, the investment opportunities in companies active in this field. A policeman spotting the same piece of paper will think of the littering laws, zero tolerance policies, litterbug fines. An environmentalist will think of the tree that was cut down to produce this piece of paper which was so casually discarded. The businessman, the policeman, the environmentalist may all have been walking along absorbed in totally unrelated thoughts. But that little deviation from the ordinary, the simple piece of paper lying on the ground, pulls each one out of his reverie and sets him off in his own individual direction along the route that is dear to his heart.

 

In this light, the commentators explain the rationale behind techeiles. The Torah does not make unrealistic demands of us. The Torah realizes full well that no matter how spiritual we want to be, no matter how much we would like think of Hashem, we still live in the mundane world. We have to earn a living and pay the mortgage and take care of the children, and we cannot realistically expect to keep our minds focused on Hashem at all times.

 

If, however, we truly yearn to be connected with Him, if we harbor a strong love for Him deep in our hearts, then a few gentle reminders here and there will bring Him squarely back into our thoughts. Therefore, the Torah does not simply command us to think of Hashem at all times. It is too much to expect of us amid the sea of distractions in which we live. Instead, the Torah tells us to keep a symbol with us at all times, a symbol which will remind us of Hashem with just a brief glance.

 

To accomplish this purpose most effectively, the Torah does not choose a symbol directly associated with Hashem. Rather, the Torah chooses a fairly simple symbol which can insinuate itself easily into the mad rush of daily life, a shade of blue that reminds us of the sea. But once the chain of thought is set in motion, our natural tendencies take over. That flash of blue sets us to thinking, and if there is a true love for Hashem deep in our hearts, our thoughts will naturally turn to Him. If the heart is set in a good direction, the mind is sure to follow. But the converse is also true.

 

A great sage was visiting an art gallery, and he saw a large redfaced man protesting vigorously in front of a colorful abstract painting.

 

“How can you display such lewd art?” the angry man yelled.

 

Intrigued, the sage drew closer and looked at the painting.

 

“My good fellow,” he said. “This is a wonderful painting. It is a warm representation of a mother soothing a distraught child. The lewd images you see on the canvas are a reflection of the lewd images that occupy your own mind.”

 

In our own lives, we are all caught up in the dynamics of our daily existence, continuously distracted by financial, familial, social, emotional and all sorts of other concerns that make up the fabric of our lives. Under these circumstances, it is very easy to forget about Hashem. But if He has a permanent place in our hearts, if deep down we recognize and acknowledge that life has no meaning without a strong relationship with Him, then we will inevitably find myriad symbols everywhere that will nudge us gently back on track and bring Him back into our thoughts.

 

Text Copyright © 2010 by Rabbi Naftali Reich and Torah.org.

Rabbi Reich is on the faculty of the Ohr Somayach Tanenbaum Education Center.

 

 

Fear of the Unknown

Parshas Behaaloscha

Posted on May 30, 2018 (5778) By Rabbi Berel Wein | Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner

 

Human beings are by their very nature creatures who are eternally dissatisfied and fearful. It is a rare person that, even at a joyous family occasion, can grasp the moment and fully enjoy it.

 

Even as the bridal couple stands under their marriage canopy, observers and the families of those concerned are already fretting about what the future will hold for the young couple.

 

Rarely can a person truly live and enjoy the present.

 

In the Torah reading of this week the generation that left Egypt, received the Torah on Sinai and witnessed all of G-d’s miracles on a first-hand basis, nevertheless they begin to fray and fall apart. Their main concern, the doubt that hovers in their minds throughout the 40 years of existence in the Sinai desert, is how they will fare when they finally do reach and settle the promised land of Israel.

 

This task appears to be so daunting that it frightens them. The reassurance given them by Moshe, that G-d will continue to perform miracles on their behalf does not resonate with them. Their frustration will eventually burst forth in the Torah reading of next week with the story of the spies and their evil report regarding the land of Israel. The father-in-law of Moshe himself leaves them and no arguments or persuasions can change his mind. In its way, this was a crushing blow to the morale of the Jewish people and only confirmed their doubts as to whether they have a future in the land of Israel.

 

In effect, the mindset of the people was that today’s miracles do not guarantee the presence of miracles tomorrow and that the land of Israel is too risky an adventure to entertain.

 

The fear and disaffection for the land of Israel lies at the root of all the upheavals and rebellions that we will read about this Shabbat and in the coming Torah readings as well. They may complain about food, their leaders and all sorts of other gnawing issues that trouble them but that is only a cover for their fear of the future and for the unknown that the land of Israel represents to them.

 

This is a situation that exists even today in the Jewish world. It is a lack of self-confidence that we paper over with bravado. Deep down we are aware of the precarious nature of our situation and of the hostility of the world towards our state and us. To a great extent we whistle when passing the graveyard because of our lack of faith in ourselves, our future and even in the G-d of Israel.

 

We cannot be satisfied with the moment because of our concerns, no matter how unwarranted they may be regarding the future. Naturally, we are somewhat traumatized by our past and it is not a simple matter to simply ignore the problems and enemies that loom over us.

 

Nevertheless, we are bound to rely upon our faith that all will yet turn well for the Jewish people and the state of Israel and we attempt to live our lives and order our priorities accordingly.

 

Shabbat shalom

Rabbi Berel Wein

 

The Menorah – A Lesson in Parenting

Parshas Behaaloscha

Posted on June 12, 2008 (5768) By Rabbi Berel Wein | Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner

 

Lighting the menorah – the great candelabra – in the Temple seems to be a very straight forward, cut and dried matter. One needs little skill or training apparently to light a candelabra.

 

Yet the Torah’s emphasis in this week’s parsha insures that a deeper meaning is also present to this seemingly mundane and simple act.

 

Rashi already indicates the presence of this deeper idea by his comment that the obligation of the kohein was to keep his fire at the candelabra’s wick, “until they caught and burned brightly on their own.” This is a rule not only in lighting a menorah but also in life generally – in raising and educating children and students, in inspiring others with ideals, skills and knowledge.

 

It is a rule in the home, the classroom, the workplace and anywhere else in human life where people intersect and influence one another. It applies in those areas of life that are also subject to this challenge – that the wick has to catch fire and rise on its own.

 

The ability to let the “wick” catch fire and flame eventually on its own is a necessary trait in successful parenting and teaching. It is always difficult to let go of a child and a student. One becomes so emotionally involved that letting go becomes increasingly impossible. But the truth is that only by letting go and allowing the “wick” – child, student, etc. – to flame on its own is one’s parental and educational responsibility fulfilled. We cannot live another person’s life for that person. We can only attempt to provide that other person with the wherewithal to succeed and accomplish.

 

The other side of the coin in this matter is equally valid and important. The kohein may not remove the flame from the wick prematurely. He must make certain that the flame of the wick will not sputter out when he removes his flame from the wick.

 

The responsibility of parents and teachers remains as long as the child or student is still unable to flame on its own. Many times in life it is difficult to light the flame in others. It always seems never to catch and flame on its own efforts and abilities. The tendency therefore is for the flame giver to despair and eventually give up on the effort.

 

Students are expelled from schools and parents and children remain distant. No two instances in life are alike and there are therefore no real general rules that can be imposed in such situations. Yet it must be obvious to all that infinite patience and untiring efforts must first be expended before reaching a point of impasse and no return.

 

Some people are late bloomers and thus the flame has to be kept to their wick longer than usual. These are all naturally individual judgments and uncertain decisions. Perhaps that is why the Torah emphasizes this seemingly ordinary act of lighting the menorah in the Temple because it represents the ambiguities that lie at the heart of many basic issues in life, family and community affairs.

 

Shabat shalom.

Rabbi Berel Wein