Lighting The Internal Flame

 

The Jews had light…” (Megillas Esther 8:16)

The verse states that the miracle of Purim brought light to the Jews. The Ibn Ezra explains that this verse refers to Bnei Yisroel’s emergence from the darkness and gloom of impending destruction into the light of salvation[1]. The Talmud understands that a spiritual message is being conveyed; “Orah” – “light” refers to the Torah. Bnei Yisroel reaffirmed their commitment to Torah[2]. What aspect of their commitment to Torah was reaffirmed? Different elements of nature are used to depict the Torah such as water, air, fire etc. Why, in describing the reaffirmation of the Torah, is the Torah compared specifically to the element of fire?

 

In Parshas Beshalach the Torah records that when Bnei Yisroel departed from Mitzrayim they were attacked by Amaleik at a place called Refidim[3]. The Midrash explains that the Torah records the name of the place because it is a contraction of words that reveals the reason for Bnei Yisroel’s vulnerability to Amaleik’s attack; “sherafu yedeihem min haTorah” – literally, “they weakened their hands from the Torah”, generally understood to mean that they became lax in their Torah study[4]. Why does the Torah describe the laxity in their commitment as a weakening of the hands? “Sherafu yedeihem min haTorah” implies that the Torah itself caused the weariness, “min haTorah” – “as a result of the Torah”. What insight is the Midrash offering by couching the reason in such a manner?

 

Every action that we do falls into one of two categories. The activity either has no intrinsic value other than facilitating reaching a desired goal, or the activity may be necessary to reach a desired goal but it has its own intrinsic value as well. Those activities which do not contain their own intrinsic value are deemed burdensome and are almost always performed with resistance because the individual has the knowledge that if the desired goal could be achieved without having to perform these tasks, that would be the preferred course of action. Only those endeavors which a person perceives as having intrinsic value stimulate and energize him.

 

The study of Torah involves two aspects; one is the acquisition of knowledge which enables us to observe the precepts in the prescribed manner. Additionally, the study of Hashem’s wisdom connects us to Him, giving intrinsic value to the actual study.

 

The very essence and philosophy of Amaleik, that this world is devoid of Divine providence and is therefore ruled by chance, removes all value from anything that they do. Since, according to them, there exists no Divine blueprint, all of existence is governed by the pursuit of self-gratification, making every endeavor bereft of intrinsic value. This notion is reflected in Amaleik’s name, “amal kof” – “toil of a monkey”; a monkey is the primate closest to man and can be taught to mimic human behavior. However, although its actions are human in appearance alone, they possess no intrinsic value. The Amaleik perspective leaves a person unfulfilled and very often depressed. This leads to self-destructive behavior which is the trademark of Amaleik, who are described by our Sages as suicidal[6].

 

The Torah identifies the deficiency within Bnei Yisroel as becoming weary from the study of Torah. If a person approaches Torah study as only a means to an end and does not appreciate its intrinsic value, the actual study will make him weary. Weariness from Torah study indicates that we have allowed the insidious Amaleiki philosophy, the feeling that our actions have no value and we pass through life just going through the motions, to seep into our own thought patterns.

 

It is the fire of Torah which energizes and gives us our fulfillment and sense of purpose. Lacking this perspective weakens us not only spiritually, but physically as well. When we allow our internal Amaleiki tendencies to rise to the surface we open ourselves up to the attack of an external Amaleik. On Purim we defeated our external enemies together with our internal Amaleik which was eradicated by rekindling the flame of Torah. This comes with the awareness of the intrinsic value of Torah study.

 

A Man from Among Us

Parshas Vayikra

Posted on March 19, 2024 (5784) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

It was certainly much easier to expiate a transgression two thousand years ago than it is today.

 

In ancient times, the transgressor would bring a sacrificial offering to the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. He would confess his sins, repent and offer up the sacrifice as a symbol of his desire to rededicate himself to his Creator. The sanctity of the place and the sublime spirituality of the process would cleanse his soul and purify his spirit, and he would go home spiritually rejuvenated.

 

The Torah, while describing the process of the sacrificial service at great length and in exhaustive detail, introduces the topic with a curious statement. “When a man (adam) from among you brings a sacrifice . . .” The Torah usually refers to a man with the Hebrew word ish, yet here the Torah chooses the unusual word adam, which brings to mind Adam, the first man.

 

What is the point of being reminded of Adam when we bring a sacrifice to atone for a sin?

 

Furthermore, why does the Torah speak of a man “from among you” that brings a sacrifice?

 

What is added by this seemingly superfluous phrase? Isn’t every man “from among you”?

 

The commentators explain that the purpose of a sacrifice is not only to express contrition for the sin but also to repair the damage that sin caused in the world. A person does not live in a vacuum, an island unto himself. Every sinful act creates a void of the Creator’s presence in the spiritual ecosystem, causing the retraction, so to speak, of the Divine Presence and the proliferation of negative energy. A sinful act causes the spiritual level of the world to fall, just as a mitzvah causes it to rise. Therefore, a person committing a sin affects not only himself but also his surroundings, his family, his friends, his community and to a certain extent the entire world.

 

Adam was the first man in the world, and in his mind, his decision to eat the forbidden fruit was a private decision. He thought it affected no one but him. But he was wrong. His one sinful act had tremendous ramifications for all future generations. It introduced death to the human experience.

 

This is the lesson we learn from Adam. There are no private decisions. Every act we commit has far-reaching implications for the spiritual condition of our environment. This is what a person should have in mind when he brings a sacrifice to the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. He must realize that, like Adam, he mistakenly considered his sinful act victimless, affecting only himself.

 

But he was really “from among you.” His sinful act affected others as well, and it is the purpose of the sacrifice to repair the damage he has wrought.

 

A young man booked passage on a pleasure cruise ship. He took a cabin on the lowest deck, because those were the least expensive. After a few days, he locked himself in his room and ordered his meals delivered to his door.

 

The waiter who brought the meal noticed that the passageway was damp, and as he approached the young man’s door, he saw water pulsing out from under his door. He bent down to smell it, and to his horror, he discovered that it was seawater. In a panic, he banged on the young man’s door, but there was no response.

 

He ran to get the captain, and in a few minutes, the captain arrived with two crew members carrying axes. They broke down the door and found the young man drilling holes in the side of the ship.

 

“What are you doing?” screamed the captain. “Do you want to kill all of us? Do you want to sink this ship?”

 

“What are you talking about?” the young man retorted. “This is my private cabin. I paid for it, and I have the right to do anything I want in it.”

 

In our own lives, we are all living in cabins on the great cruise ship of life. We may sometimes think we are independent individuals, answering only to ourselves. But as the popular saying goes, we are indeed all connected. The things we say or do, a harsh word, a thoughtless act, a spiritual transgression can harm the people around us. On the other hand, a warm smile, an act of kindness, a word of encouragement can touch, move and inspire. Our acts may cause a ripple effect whose extent cannot be measured. And even if we manage to keep certain behaviors in total isolation, they still leave a mark in the spiritual world.

 

We may think we are “Adam,” but let us always remember that we are really “from among us.”

 

Text Copyright © 2008 by Rabbi Naftali Reich and Torah.org.

 

Listen to Your Still Small Voice

Parshas Vayikra

Posted on March 17, 2021 (5781) By Rabbi Berel Wein | Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner

Moshe hears the voice of the Lord as G-d calls to him. However, it is not the same experience that it was at Mount Sinai. There, it was with noise and fanfare, thunder and lightning, pageantry, and awe. At Mount Sinai, even the soundwaves were visible and real. But here, according to the Midrash, it is a private revelation exclusive to Moshe. The great heavenly voice is not heard outside the precincts of the Tabernacle itself.

 

According to some commentators, this is one of the reasons why the word Vayikra itself is spelled with a small letter –Aleph zeira – the small Alef at the end of the word Vayikra. It is interesting to note that one of the celestial powers of the Almighty is that of tzimtzum – the ability to diminish the godly presence, so to speak, in the universe, to allow for nature and human beings to function in the so-called vacated space.

 

We find that when the prophet Elijah searches for G-d, he does not find Him in the great wind or in thunderous sound, but, rather, in the still small voice of silence itself. I have written many times about the importance of being able to find G-d within our own being, within our own soul, for only by discovering G-d in that manner can a person achieve permanent elevation of spirituality and faith.

 

External events may make a great impression upon us, both physically and spiritually. But they are usually only a temporary influence, a momentary catalyst. Determined pursuit of spiritual and moral attainment is always dependent upon that still small voice that Elijah heard within himself and is the voice that all of us can also hear for ourselves, if we will do so.

 

We are all aware that it is much easier to hear loud sounds than furtive whispers. To hear a low voice or a whisper requires concentration. It demands a desire to hear, not an automatic reflex of our auditory senses, but, rather, an intentional expression of our inner desire to hear the seemingly inaudible. The gurus of espionage and counterespionage, of police and governmental surveillance, have constructed elaborate technological methods for blocking out all the extraneous noise that their microphones pick up, so that they are able to eavesdrop on the whispered conversations of enemy agents, spies, saboteurs, and criminals. Only one extraneous noise can cancel a surveillance project and prevent a consequence or benefit.

 

I would hazard to say that this is true in the pursuit of a meaningful spiritual life as well. All the outside static of everyday life, of the mundane and the tawdry, foolish and the distracting, must be eliminated, for us to hear our own still small voice in our soul. We live in a very noisy world, and the ruckus of life often prevents us from hearing what we ourselves wish to say to ourselves, because of the outside static of noise that constantly engulfs us. We should certainly concentrate more on hearing our own inner self and soul.

Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Berel Wein

 

 

Unlimited Partnership

Parshas Pekudei

Posted on February 28, 2022 (5782) By Rabbi Mordechai Kamenetzky | Series: Drasha| Level: Beginner

The Mishkan was finally complete. The nation looked at the magnificent work with great joy, and Moshe was proud. So proud, in fact, that he did something that he only did once more– just before his death: he blessed the entire nation.

 

Actually, the erection of a Mishkanwas the greatest blessing in itself. Hashem had promised the Jewish nation in Parshas Terumah, “Build me a Mishkan— and I will dwell among them” (Exodus 25:8). But Moshe felt that he, too, would add a blessing.

 

Rashi tells us what Moshe told the people: “May Hashem rest His presence in your handiwork.”

 

At first it seems that Moshe is reiterating the promise that Hashem Himself made. Hashem had promised to dwell in the midst of the Sanctuary that the Jewish nation would build. Why, then did Moshe repeat G-d’s promise as a blessing? Is he blessing them that Hashem should keep His word? Or is he perhaps bestowing a more powerful message?

 

A man once approached Rabbi Yehuda Assad for advice. “There is an old, run-down store in the downtown area of the city. I can get it a very reasonable price. I think that with my marketing skills I may be able to turn that location into a profitable venture. Do you think I should buy it?”

 

Rav Assad made a face. “I don’t think that it would be prudent to enter that part of the city for a business venture.” The man left somewhat dejected.

 

A few days later another man entered the Rabbi’s study with the identical question about the same property. “There is an old, run-down store in the downtown area of the city. I can get it a very reasonable price. I think that with my marketing skills, and of course with Hashem’s help, I may be able to turn that location into a profitable venture. Do you think I should buy it?”

 

This time Rabbi Assad nodded in approval. “I think you should make a go of it. I have no doubts that it will be a success.”

 

When word got out that the Rabbi was behind this new endeavor, the first man stormed into his study quite upset. “Why did the you tell me not to buy the property and then tell my friend just the opposite?” he demanded.

 

“My dear student,” answered the Rabbi, “there is a great difference. Your friend took in a partner. He said that with the help of Hashem he could make a go of it. When someone includes Hashem in his plans, I am sure that he will succeed!”

 

For the first time since the exodus the Jews had become accomplished craftsman, artisans, tailors, and contractors. They built a magnificent edifice in the wilderness. Moshe knew that a feeling of self-gratification might accompany their accomplishments. Perhaps they may begin to think that it was their wisdom, their skills and only their abilities that made this beautiful Mishkan possible. So he blessed them with words that were meant to dissuade any such delusion.

 

“May Hashem’s presence rest in your handiwork.” Of course Hashem promised that he would dwell in theMishkan. Moshe’s question was, “would the Jews let him in?” Would they make him a partner? Would they recognize Hashemas a significant factor even in the physical handiwork that they themselves had wrought? To that end, Moshe’s blessing incorporated the standard for every action, accomplishment, and success that anyone achieves. May Hashem be a part of your success. May the Shechina rest upon your handiwork.

Dire Precautions

Parshas Vayakhel Pekudei

Posted on March 13, 2024 (5784) By Rabbi Mordechai Kamenetzky | Series: Drasha| Level: Beginner

Most building dedications are joyous events filled with upbeat speeches and predictions of growth and unyielding expansion. This week, Moshe recaps and reckons all the labor and material that went into the building of the Mishkan. He proudly announces that the contributions of gold, silver, copper and other materials, brought by the children of Israel exceeded the demands. Yet there is one aspect of his inaugural address that is strikingly somber. Instead of declaring that the Mishkan is here to stay and will be the forerunner of the Temple, he begins with a foreboding sense of doom.

 

The portion of Pekudei (Reckoning) begins in Exodus 38:21 “These are the reckoning of the Mishkan — the Mishkan of testimony. ” The Medrash is bothered by Moshe’s repetitive expression. Why does he repeat the words Mishkan — Mishkan? He should have said, “These are the reckoning of the Mishkan of testimony.”? The Medrash answers, homiletically, that the word Mishkan has a close relative in the word Mashkon — collateral. Moshe was alluding, “to the two Temples that were taken back by G-d as collateral for the sins of Israel.”

 

Why on opening day, does Moshe allude to impending doom? Wouldn’t such talk be totally demoralizing? What lesson is there for the Jewish People?

 

In Poland there was a group of smugglers that employed many devious schemes to get goods across the Russian border without paying taxes. Yet, they were not successful until they realized that the border guards never bothered funeral processions.

 

The smugglers decided to load their wares into coffins, and with all the grief and anguish that accompanies a funeral they carried the contraband across the border. As this ritual became the norm, the fabricated anguish of a funeral procession was abandoned. One dark night, the group, laughing and kibitzing, came to the border. The guards, noticing an unusually buoyant atmosphere, demanded to open the casket. Upon seeing the illegal goods, the guards immediately arrested the group and brought them to police headquarters for interrogation.

 

The leader of the smugglers stood before the commanding officer and broke down in tears. “Have mercy upon us. We all have families!” he wailed. With rage in his eyes the officer responded. “You fool! You are crying now! Had you cried as you reached the border, you surely would be laughing now. It is because you laughed then that you are crying now!”

 

Moshe injected a sense of seriousness into the joy of dedication. He warns the Jewish people at this celebration that even the greatest gifts are not permanent. Even the Mishkan will not last forever. We must have that sense of seriousness and appreciation relating to everything we cherish. The prophet (Yoel 2:13) tells us, “rend your heart and not your clothing.” The sages explain those words as saying “if you rend your hearts, you will not have to rend your clothing.” Moshe, in a very subtle way, sends the same message. Even at a wedding, as the groom smashes the glass under the canopy, he reminds himself, his bride, and all those gathered of Moshe’s inaugural message. Cherish what you have and guard it dearly. Because nothing left unguarded lasts forever.

 

 

Focal Points

Parshas Vayakhel

Posted on March 5, 2024 (5784) By Rabbi Mordechai Kamenetzky | Series: Drasha| Level: Beginner

The commands for the building of the Mishkan were fully meted. The job was winding down, and this week in Parshas Vayakhel Moshe instructs the nation with the final directives of the monumental task. First, however, he has a message. The portion begins telling us that Moshe gathered the nation and told them that “six days you shall work and the seventh day shall be holy – you shall not kindle fire in any of your dwellings on the Sabbath day” (Exodus 35:1-2). Only then does he continue with the directives that pertain to the erection of the Mishkan.

 

The strange juxtaposition of the laws of Shabbos in the midst of all the instructions of building a sanctuary is cause for concern. That is why our sages explain that Moshe was informing the Jewish people that despite its importance building a Mishkan does not pre-empt the Sabbath.

 

All work must cease on Shabbos regardless of how it may impact the progress of the Mishkan.

 

Yet what must be analyzed are the seemingly disconnected verses. Why didn’t the Torah tell us of Shabbos’ power in a straightforward way, by openly directing the nation “thou shall not construct the Mishkan on the Shabbos.” Why juxtapose Shabbos as a stand-alone unit, leaving us to infer its overriding power through scriptural juxtaposition? In fact the words “you shall not kindle fire in any of your dwellings on the Sabbath” make the command seem totally irrelevant to Mishkan per se and applicable to each and every individual homemaker. If so, the command truly seems out of place. It seems that regardless of its relation to the laws of construction, the theme of Shabbos plays a greater role vis-a-vis the Mishkan. What is it?

 

A famous Magid was asked to lecture in a prosperous and modern city. Before he was to speak he was told to consult with the synagogue’s president. “This is a very distinguished community,” he was told “and we must be careful. We surely would not want to offend anyone with, even the slightest rebuke.” The Magid met the president who was sitting in a richly upholstered leather armchair behind a mahogany desk. As the Magid entered, the man rested his lit cigar on the corner of a brass ashtray.

 

“Rabbi,” asked the president, “you have a reputation as a remarkable speaker. One who inspires crowds and makes – might I say – waves. Pray tell me,” he continued “what are you intending to speak about in our town?”

 

The Magid promptly replied, “I intend to talk about Shabbat observance.”

 

The president’s face turned crimson. “Oh no dear rabbi, please. In this town, such talk will fall on deaf ears. We all struggle to make a living and Shabbos is just not in the cards. I implore you. Talk about something else.”

 

The rabbi pondered. “Perhaps I should talk about kashrut.” “Kashrut? Please,” begged the president, “don’t waste your time. There hasn’t been a kosher butcher in this town for years.”

 

“How about tzedaka?” offered the Magid. “Charity? Give us a break. Do you know how many shnorrers visit this town each week. We are sick of hearing about charity!”

 

Meekly the Magid made another suggestion. “Tefillah? (prayer)”

 

“Please. In a city of 1,000 Jewish families, we hardly get a weekday minyan. The synagogue is never filled except on the High Holy Days. No one would be interested.”

 

Finally the Magid became frustrated. “If I can’t talk about Shabbos, and I can’t talk about tzedaka, and I can not discuss kashrut, what do you want me to talk about?” The president looked amazed. “Why, rabbi” exclaimed the president. “That’s easy! Talk about Judaism!”

 

By placing the concept of Shabbos in general, and one of its detailed laws in particular, smack in the middle of the architectural directives of a most glorious edifice, the Torah was telling us that although we may build beautiful palaces in which to serve the Almighty, however, if we forget the tenets of our faith, those great structures are meaningless. Shabbos was mentioned as a separate unit because its relevance is even greater than its ability to halt construction. A Jew must remember that without Shabbos, without kashrut, without tefillah, a beautiful sanctuary is no more enduring than a castle in the air.

 

Dedicated in honor of the naming of Shantal Ariana Kash, daughter of Donna and Peter Kash

Good Shabbos!

 

 

In Deep Deep Trouble

Parshas Ki Sisa

Posted on March 5, 2021 (5781) By Rabbi Label Lam | Series: Dvar Torah| Level: Beginner

When the people saw that Moshe was late in coming down from the mountain, the people gathered against Aaron, and they said to him: “Come on! Make us gods that will go before us, because this man Moshe, who brought us up from the land of Egypt we don’t know what has become of him.” (Shemos 32:1)

 

This is the introduction to one of the great mistakes of all time, the Sin of the Golden Calf. We are still mopping up the fallout from that terrible event. It was beyond tragic. HASHEM even offers Moshe the option of wiping out the entirety of the Nation of Israel and starting again from him. Had Moshe not fought ferociously against it, it just might have been. That shows us how horrific this deed was and how it shattered the heavens in cosmic way we cannot comprehend.

 

We look on in horror as we review this incident over and over again through the ages. Maybe it’s a sign of the weakening of generations but I am left asking myself a fundamental question. I intend no irreverence in asking. I don’t mean to be cynical. It just needs to be asked and spelled out clearly so this dull heart can understand. What’s so bad about idolatry? Let me count the ways. Why is it so terrible? Let us try a few approaches.

 

Firstly, the primary and ultimately the most important relationship we can hope to have in life is with HASHEM. King David says, “As for me, closeness to HASHEM is goodness!” That is our mission. That is the goal. Without that we are, in the grand scheme of things, lost!

 

The Maharal studies the Ten Commandments not only in a linear fashion laying out a case for the logical flow of ideas but he also explains them in horizontal pairs. How does number 1 match up with number 6 and 2 with 7. Number 2 is the admonition against idolatry and it’s no mistake that number 7 is the warning against adultery. Choosing to be loyal to other gods is an act of supreme disloyalty and a break trust in our relationship with HASHEM.

 

Now, what is the importance and necessity of the second Commandment? After The Almighty introduces that He is G-d, why then do we need to be told to have no other gods. That’s strange!

Why is there an admonition against idolatry immediately following the bold and open revelation of The Creator Himself? Our classic commentators tell us that the first of the big ten is the head pin, the impetus for all the positive, active Mitzvos. The second is the driving force behind all the negative or prohibitive Mitzvos. How does that help us?

 

Little Chaim comes running into the house after school. He waves quickly and casually “Hi!” to his father who’s planted there in his seat on the couch. Father stops Chaim and asks him where he’s off to in such a hurry. Chaim informs his father that he’s going to get his ball and his glove, his bat and his cleats and join the other guys out on the field. Father shakes his head solemnly and reminds Chaim of their prior agreement. “Last night was your aunt’s wedding and you were up late.

 

The deal was that tonight it would be homework, dinner and early bed!” Dad says firmly. Chaim slinks off deeply disappointed, banging his feet and slamming doors in protest.

 

Five minutes later, though, that same disgruntled Chaim goes running gleefully past his father in the other direction with all his baseball paraphernalia. “Where are you going?” booms Father, amazed at the temerity of his little son. With a confident smile Chaim replies, “It’s OK Dad, I asked Mom!” as he scoots out.

 

When our father, our boss, our superior commands us to do something it’s hard to avoid getting the job done. If The G-d who spoke to the entire Jewish Nation on Mount Sinai also tells me to bind my head and arm with little black boxes and straps, I’ll feel compelled to take my blood pressure every day simply because I was told to do so by the Creator.

 

However, if I am told not to do something, something that I have a desire to do, then the devilish genius within begins to search feverishly for a second opinion. Let me find or create a god, a rabbi, a religion that legalizes what I want to do so my conscience can be quieted. Then like a drug it’s hard to escape!

 

This is the genesis of idolatry. When one is capable of consciously abandoning the most important and ultimate relationship to justify a low urge then he is in deep deep trouble.

 

This Makes Intelligent People Act Like Fools

Parshas Ki Sisa

Posted on February 16, 2022 (5782) By Rabbi Berel Wein | Series: Rabbi Wein | Level: Beginner

The sin of the Golden Calf remains one of the great mysteries in the story of the Jewish people throughout the ages. Flooded with miracles on all sides, unbelievably redeemed from Egyptian bondage, and being sustained daily in a desert, the Jewish people somehow revert to idolatry and paganism. As illogical as this is, it is, nevertheless, not as surprising as later generations may assess the events.

 

Human beings are not only influenced, but, to a greater extent, are limited and bound by the norms of the general society in which they exist. How can millions of North Koreans weep at the death of someone who was a tyrant and a murderer over them? Yet that is exactly what happened when the two previous Kingdoms finally passed from this earth. It is exceedingly difficult to maintain one’s individual beliefs, no matter how correct and logical they may be, in the face of contrary opinion held by the majority general society.

 

There was a phrase in Yiddish and translates as “the general society is malleable and foolish”.

 

Even the most outlandish of ideas – such as paganism itself – somehow will gain traction, even amongst intelligent people, if it is somehow the prevailing attitude that permeates the general society. In a world of belief and sacrifice for paganism, it is not that difficult to understand that this should affect the Jewish people as well, in spite of their own personal and national history of monotheism, miracles and G-dly deliverance.

 

The Talmud records that one of the great rabbis of the time saw the wicked king Menashe in one of his dreams. The Rabbi asked the tyrant for his help in answering a question in Jewish law, over which the rabbis of the study hall were struggling. The king answered promptly and correctly, as to what the law is according to Jewish tradition. The rabbi in wonderment asked the king that if he is such a scholar, how could he follow idolatry and allow it to be rampant in the Jewish kingdom that he ruled? Achov answered: “If you would have lived in my generation, you would have picked up the hem of your robe in order to run more quickly to serve that false idol.”

 

We look back at so many false idols and beliefs that litter the landscape of human history, and especially those of Western civilization. We wonder how people could have been so naïve and foolish and so wrong about such basic matters of faith and perspective? Yet we ourselves live in a society dominated by what we realize to be false ideas, bad policies and the foolish denial of facts and realities, let alone the obvious lessons of history and tradition. We know, for instance, that cancel culture is wrong, evil, and counterproductive to the human spirit and belief. Nevertheless, we are all careful not to say and certainly not to publish what we know to be true, because of our trepidation that we will somehow be canceled because of it.

 

To be a Jew requires a great moral strength and fortitude. We have not always been able to swim against the current tide, and, tragically, we always pay a price for that failing.

 

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Berel Wein