Rabbi Rael Blumenthal

This week has been one long series of logistical challenges for our family. I'm not complaining – it's all for good things. As many of you know, Rebbetzin Aliza Blumenthal is currently on the OU's Women's Mission to Israel together with the rest of the Boca Delegation: Rebbetzin Goldberg, Dr. Michal Miller and Sue Kaskel.

All this means that I've been doubling up on the daily family tasks. Like most families, as our family has grown, Aliza and I have divided up the multitudes of carpools, bath-times, homework sessions, meal preps, shopping trips, cooking, laundry etc... We know our daily and weekly roles and we pretty much get on with getting things done. It's this schedule that allows us to attempt to be functioning adults as well. As any parent of young children knows, all we can ever do is make an attempt. Young kids are predictably unpredictable.

Now, don't get me wrong; I love spending time with my kids, and Baruch Hashem, I get to spend a lot of time with them. Truthfully, the days when I can be a full-time Abba are some of my favorite. But it's tough to be a full time Rabbi at the same time. It's tough to daven properly, prepare shiurim, learn Torah, and teach my talmidim. It's tough to be a functional adult while also chasing kids.

Of course, I fully recognize that my challenges this week are the tip of the iceberg for so many single parents each and every day. I remember those days well from the other side. For almost a decade, my brother and I were raised single handedly by my mom; and through this amazing privilege of raising my own children I am still consistently awed by the fact that my mom managed to achieve so much by herself. It's a debt of gratitude that I feel even more powerfully this week.

So, between the extra carpools, tantrums, lunches and schedule, I've tried to find a minute to reflect on all of this. In some small way, I'm trying to empathize with all of hundreds of thousands of Israeli parents who have been struggling along, alone at home worrying about their family on the front lines.

Throughout this week, Aliza and the other incredible women on the trip have met with the wives, mothers and families of Chayalim who have been away from home for weeks. The presence of these Rebbetzins and community leaders has relieved a drop of loneliness and exhaustion from the Israeli Homefront, and if I can help them by changing a few extra diapers in Boca, then I'm honored to add to that relief.

But, tragically these are still all comparatively “normal challenges”, barely grazing the surface of the turmoil and complications for the families of the hostages.

This week I have thought about the fathers and mothers in captivity in a far more personal light. Please forgive me; it's absurd to compare at all, but when our two year cries for his mommy, I tell him that mommy will be home in a few days; and that maybe we could FaceTime later.

Every time I've said those words, I have thought about the words – or lack of words – that must be said to toddlers waiting to hear if their parents have been released from the Hell of Hamas captivity. Or the parents waiting for news about their kids.

For them, there is no assurance, certainly no FaceTime. For those families, there is no reprieve from the relentless agony of longing, yearning, crying, hoping and fighting against the ever looming despair.

These past few days have brought me closer to the pain of our brothers and sisters in Eretz Yisrael. My tefillos, rushed as they have been, have been focussed on and dedicated to those families.

But, like everything else in life, I have tried to view the past few days in the greater context of understanding Ratzon Hashem. And so I've asked myself: What does Hashem want from me right now?

The answers are not difficult to say; but they are certainly challenging to implement. This week, I suppose, Hashem wants me to work harder on my middos of empathy and patience. He wants me to get better at managing my expectations of myself and my children. He wants me to give more gratitude to my wife now, and in general.

Hashem does not want me to experience annoyance and frustration and conclude “only a few more days.” The point of this exercise is not just to “survive” the week, but for me to become a better father, husband and Eved Hashem.

In a strange way, adopting this type of growth mindset is not only possible while taking care of kids, it is almost a requirement of the child raising process.

Young children force us to work on our flexibility, forgiveness, patience and empathy in a way that we often overlook in our dealings with ourselves and other adults. Kids are so honest with their needs and emotions. They are transparent and devoid of agendas. Primarily, they just want to be happy, and they want others to be happy as well.

To enjoy spending time with our kids requires us to abandon negativity, cynicism, pessimism, over-thinking and judgmentalism. For most adults, this is nothing less than a radical shift in perspective. It's a totally new way of looking at and experiencing the world. We are so often consumed by the duplicity of the media and politics; surrounded by sarcasm, falsehoods and hatred, that we fail to see any hope or beauty.

The Yesod Tzadik – Reb Shlomke of Zhevil explains that this childlike perspective not just for kids. It's the essence of being a Jew, and it's hidden in the life of Yaakov Avinu:

The Torah often refers to Esav as a “Gadol” – a great one, as opposed to Yaakov, the “Katan”, or small one. It's a strange detail to harp on when they were born barely a minute apart; indeed, Yaakov practically emerges together with his brother, holding his heel. Why should Yaakov always be a Katan?

Reb Shlomke explains: We look at the challenges of a Gadol and Katan very differently. Contrast the adult who cannot walk well, with the toddler who tripping over their own feet. The adult makes us nervous and concerned. His situation demands a visit to a doctor, a diagnoses and a prescription. But the toddler's problems walking are of little concern to anyone. His challenge is normal and kids grow up. He'll learn to walk in due course. Likewise, an adult who can't talk is potentially seriously ill, but a babbling child is cute; he's still learning.

Consider how the mistakes of an adult are always so grave, so irreparable, so unforgivable, while a child can always do better next time.

How do we relate to a child who is crying over nothing?

If we're trying to be good parents, we'll note that “They're probably just tired, hungry or uncomfortable.” But isn't the same true for most adults as well? Do we not become a little less reasonable when we're tired, hungry and uncomfortable? Imagine if we gave ourselves and each other a little of this treatment. How many arguments could be avoided by sharing a snack before the discussion?

And what of our setbacks and failures? From the moment one is a Gadol, every challenge is a decline. But for a Katan, the issues are only issues as long as they last; they exist only until we “grow out of it”. We never stop encouraging a Katan. His setbacks are not brick walls, they are speed-bumps. A child can always learn more, grow more, achieve more.

So the Torah tells us that Yaakov is the paradigmatic Katan – he's always willing to see each and every moment as the beginning of a greater story. His Tefillah before engaging with his murderous brother indicates this growth – in becoming even more of a Katan:

קָטֹנְתִּי מִכֹּל הַחֲסָדִים וּמִכּל־הָאֱמֶת Hashem, I have become less due to the kindness and truth that You have done for me...

The Meforshim grapple with the phrase קָטֹנְתִּי. How has Yaakov gotten smaller? But with our explanation it makes perfect sense. Yaakov is relating to Hashem that precisely because of all the kindness that Hashem has showed him, he is further inspired to be a Katan. He can see that even this terrifying, life-threatening encounter with Esav is a new beginning, it's a moment of growth. Effectively, Yaakov is saying “There is nothing in my life that will make me stop believing that I can do better, that I can grow though this. If I remain a Katan forever, there is always more growing up for me to achieve.

This has been my Avoda this week – קָטֹנְתִּי – I'm trying to get a little smaller. I'm working on my middos, becoming a little more childlike, learning with and from my kids.

But beyond all of this, I'm davening for the parents fighting the longest battle of all on the Homefront. The battle to ensure that the Klal Yisrael which emerges from this war is raised with a love of Hashem, His Land, His People and His Torah.

I don't know. You don't know. None of us know.

The War Cabinet of the State of Israel has just agreed to a deal which will, Be'ezras Hashem, see the return of fifty hostages. Hostages who were cruelly and brutally abducted from their homes. Hostages who witnessed the hell of October 7th first hand, and for whom that terror has not abated for even one second.

I cannot even begin to imagine the emotions of this moment for the families of the 240+ hostages. Sleepless nights hoping, praying, yearning. Will my son, daughter, husband, wife, brother, sister, parent or grandparent be one of the “lucky ones”? And grave concern. What will the future hold for those who are not released in this deal?

We don't know.

What will be the cost of a “pause” in fighting? In Gaza? In the international arena? We are facing an enemy who celebrates death and revels in brutality, and a world of sympathizers and supporters of such evil. What will this mean for our brave Chayalim? Will this put them in even greater danger?

And what of those terrorists who will be released from Israeli prisons in this exchange? Their intentions and ideology have, no doubt, remained the same. Are they not still murderous anti-semites who desire the destruction of Jewish life and the State of Israel?

Is this price too much to pay? Is this the right thing for the State? Is this the right strategy for the war?

But what is the alternative? To allow these hostages to continue languishing in excruciating captivity? How could we?

For those who are wondering what the Halacha should be in this harrowing situation, I implore you not to attempt to “pasken” based on the shiur that you once heard, the Tosfot that you once learned, or the article that you once read. This case is far more complex than we might realize. (To learn more, Rav Asher Weiss, שליט”א addressed the Sugya here.)

We desperately want to know what is Ratzon Hashem here and we are not qualified to know.

But that's not the point. The point is that this is not our decision to make. We, in Chutz La'aretz, and even in Israel, are not members of the War Cabinet. We are not Poskim for Klal Yisrael, or generals of the IDF. We don't know the right thing to do here. But that's ok. It is not our job to know.

However we might feel about the decisions that Israel is making, I implore you to remember that there is a reason that the Master of All Worlds has not given this decision to you or me. This crucial and monumental choice is not for us to make. This choice is not ours; but there are many choices that Hashem has absolutely given to you and me. It's important to focus on our own Avoda.

Chief amongst our tasks is considering how to relate to Jews who do not share our opinion about this deal; or any other strategies and thoughts related to this war. Many more difficult questions are going to be asked. But we are not the ones who must answer. There is other work for us to do.

To be clear: Our Avoda right now is to fight, with all of our strength and power, to ensure that we do not return to the fragmentation, frustration and anger of October 6th, and to daven for the success of our nation.

Through the tears, pain and sleepless nights, each and every one of us has been uplifted by the overwhelming Ahavas Yisrael we have seen and experienced in the past six weeks. We cannot allow these feelings and perspectives to revert back to Sinas Chinam.

This is our primary battle. This is the war that we must win at all costs. Now that we have learned who the enemy is, we dare not fight each other. The world, social media and the news will try to infiltrate our hearts and minds. They will sow dissent and distrust; and we must commit to fighting the Jew Hatred in each one of us.

The methodology for success here, is first detailed by Yaakov Avinu.

The Torah this Shabbos describes how Yaakov fled his home; running from his murderous brother Esav. He arrives at some distant mountain top and prepares to sleep. Of course, we, along with Yaakov, are soon to learn that this is no ordinary mountain top. This is Har Hamoriah, the cite of the future Beis HaMikdash. But at this point, Yaakov is simply getting ready for bed.

The pasuk tells us: וַיִּקַּח מֵאַבְנֵי הַמָּקוֹם וַיָּשֶׂם מְרַאֲשֹׁתָיו – he took of the stones of that place, and put them by his head.

Reb Baruch of Mezhibuz asks the obvious question. Surely it would've been better to fortify his entire body? He should've built a small enclosure around his entire bed. Why only his head? Reb Baruch explains: If your thoughts are in the right place the rest of your body will be as well. But one who does not fortify their mind against the intrusions of negativity has no hope of keeping the rest of the themselves safe.

Yaakov Avinu could well have fallen prey to the invasive thoughts of wondering whether or not his father loved or understood him. Wondering if he would ever see his parents again. Wondering if Esav would eventually find him and kill him. But rather than allow the invasion, he fortifies his mind; and somehow manages to fall asleep. It is only at this point that Hashem reveals the past, present and future of Klal Yisrael; the ladder connecting Heaven and Earth and the dreams of generations to come.

Thousands of years later, we too are desperate for rest. Desperate for safety and security. Desperate for an end to our wars and wanderings. And the thoughts that are invading our minds are pervasive and corrosive. The worst of which are pushing us to point fingers at each other, at Hashem and at ourselves.

But if we want to ensure that Geulah will come to the hostages, to the Chayalim, to Klal Yisrael, we need to fend off the urge to fight each other.

Despite the challenges, we too need to live the dream that we are at the bottom of a ladder climbing up to the heavens. The only ones who are truly capable of pushing us off the ladder are us. But the world of Mashiach is one in which we climb together, despite our differences.

R' Pinchas of Koretz (הקדמה למדרש פנחס) explains:

Small Tzadikim have the capacity to love small Reshaim. Big Tzadikim can love even Big Reshaim. Mashiach will be able to love even completely wicked people... Anyone who can find the good in another Jew, is a little piece of Mashiach.

Of course, those making decisions for Klal Yisrael are far from Reshaim. It should be easy for us to love and daven for each and every one of our leaders and elected officials. They are making some of the most painful decisions that our nation has ever faced, and we are davening that Hashem give them the wisdom and clarity that only He can provide.

Whether you agree or disagree, we must all concede that there is still so much we don't know. So much we might never know. The only thing that we do know is that there are rungs on the ladder that we still need to climb, and the greatest danger in this deal – and any other, is that we hold ourselves back, that we stop climbing together.

Hashem should open our eyes to understand. He should bring all the hostages home safely. He should fight our wars for us, so that this Channuka, we can once again kindle the lights of Torah and Tefillah in our hearts, in our homes and in the Beis HaMikdash.

On Tuesday, we stood together with three-hundred thousand supporters of Israel is Washington. To date, that is the largest pro-Israel rally in history. In the past five weeks everything seems larger.

Something has changed. Something feels different this time.

This is not just another war. It's not another incursion into Gaza. And the response of our enemies around the world isn't simply anti-semitism. It's vicious, egregious and unabashed. Somehow, this all feels bigger; far more significant.

Chazal describe the war(s) of Gog U'Magog as the “bite of a snake”. On this, Rav Kook writes:

Anytime that the nations of the world have risen against us, they have been driven by some type of personal gain. Sometimes to take that which is ours, sometimes from jealousy. Sometimes as a result of feeling threatened by our spiritual growth. But the war of Gog U'Magog will be waged against us with no purpose other than the desire to perpetrate evil and to destroy... At that time there will be nothing to gain from waging war. We will already be settled in our land, seeking peace with all of our neighbors. All that will be left will be a hateful desire to do evil and a jealously of the Honor of Hashem, through the honor of the Jewish people.

To that end, this final war is like that of a snake. A lion and a wolf attack and kill in order to eat, but a snake bites with no personal gain. This is a most dangerous enemy, but it will be that davka from this terror, that the true salvation of Klal Yisrael will emerge. To make the name of Hashem greater in the world.

Is this the war to end all wars? Is this Gog U'magog? We have no way of knowing; Hashem's plans are always hidden from us until He chooses to reveal them. But make no mistake – this war is most certainly different from all other wars that Israel has fought. And the brutality of our enemies is unlike anything we have seen in decades, or perhaps centuries.

Our holy Chayalim have descended into the hell of Gaza to destroy the snake whose only goal is to hurt us. They are risking their lives to rescue 240+ of our brothers and sisters who are being held captive by an enemy that glorifies pain and death.

But hidden beneath these explicit military goals there is a new mission. A mission which we have not experienced on this scale since the days of Bar Kochva. For the first time in almost two thousand years, Klal Yisrael has mobilized to defend Jewish pride; גאון יעקב – The Honor of the Nation of Hashem.

There was once a time that Yaakov Avinu had to dress and pretend, he had to steal the Brachos, and then flee in fear from the murderous wrath of his brother Esav. But Chazal tell us that there will be a time in the future when Klal Yisrael will not hide in cowardice and fear; a time when we fight not just for freedom, not simply in self defense. We will fight for Jewish honor.

In the words of Shimon and Levi who went to war against the city of Sh'chem to avenge the rape and kidnapping of Dina: “They cannot be allowed to do this to our sister.”

The State of Israel was founded as a safe haven for the Jews of the Exile. We, the persecuted victims who endured two millennia of murder, crucifixion, abuse, torture and rape would finally return home; a place to call our own once more. An ancient homeland where we could defend ourselves and our futures, a place where we would be free from the pogroms and hatred.

On Simchas Torah 5784, those dreams were shattered. For the first time, this is no longer our mission.

This war is not an about self defense. Two weeks ago, myself, along with forty Rabbinic from the OU went to Sderot to see the destruction and to meet with the Mayor of that broken city. At the end of our conversation, we asked him what the next steps were for his town:

“We have the best missile defense system in the world. We have shelters, sirens and the iron dome. But when 45 of our residents town are murdered in broad daylight in the streets of our town, we are done playing defense. We don't want to defend anymore. We want to ensure that they will never attack us again.”

It's the same feeling we felt on on Tuesday, some three-hundred thousand people – Jews and non Jews – standing at the national mall and declaring “We are not afraid.”

The Talmud (ברכות יז א) relates the various tefillos that Tanaim and Amoraim would say at the end of davening:

ר' אלכסנדרי בתר דמצלי אמר הכי רבון העולמים גלוי וידוע לפניך שרצוננו לעשות רצונך ומי מעכב שאור שבעיסה ושעבוד מלכיות יהי רצון מלפניך שתצילנו מידם ונשוב לעשות חוקי רצונך בלבב שלם.

Master of the Universe, it is revealed and known before You that our will is to perform Your will, and what prevents us? On the one hand, the yeast in the dough, the evil inclination that is within every person; and the subjugation to the kingdoms on the other. May it be Your will that You will deliver us from their hands, of both the evil inclination and the foreign kingdoms, so that we may return to perform the edicts of Your will with a perfect heart.

The Maharsha explains that these two challenges, the yeast in the dough, our Yetzer Hara, and the pressures from the nations of world are two sides of the same coin.

The reason for our failure as Jews is due to a misalignment of our senses of pride. The Yetzer Hara deludes us into thinking that we can rebel against Hashem, but the nations of the world delude us into thinking that being a Jew means being a victim: שאין מניחין לישראל להתגאות אבל משפילים אותם בתכלית השפלות – “They do not allow us to be proud Jews. Instead they utterly humiliate us.”

Our Tefillah, and indeed our Avoda, is to flip the script. Through the heartbreak, the pain and the sorrow, Klal Yisrael is rising up to declare that we will be humiliated no longer. We do not need to pretend in order to be worthy of Bracha. We don't need to hide from the Esavs of the world in order to survive.

It is time we claim our birthright, the final Bracha that Yizchak gave Yaakov Avinu:

וְיִתֶּן־לְךָ אֶת־בִּרְכַּת אַבְרָהָם לְךָ וּלְזַרְעֲךָ אִתָּךְ לְרִשְׁתְּךָ אֶת־אֶרֶץ מְגֻרֶיךָ

Hashem should give you the Bracha of Avraham, to you and your descendants to inherit this Land.

Last Monday night, he told us the story...

Until Simchas Torah, Guy and his family lived in Kfar Maimon. Since that awful day, that have temporarily relocated to the Ramada Hotel in Yerushalayim, along with hundreds of residents of the South.

His family's story begins much the same as everyone else. Everything was OK until 6:30am on Shabbos morning... and then everything changed:

Like most residents in the area, we don’t have guns. Our communities are safe. Of course, we have bomb shelters. We're used to hearing sirens and running for cover. But no-one needs to carry a weapon – it wouldn't help; you can't shoot a rocket out of the air. Until that morning, we thought we were safe.

Many of us woke up to the sounds of furious gun fire. We ran to the safe room, and I began calling the local security team, army hotlines and police to find out what was happening. It didn't take long to understand that Kfar Maimon would be infiltrated, but I had no idea as to the scale of the attack. The only thing I knew was that we were minutes away from terrorists walking coming through our streets.

My wife and I have four children. Two big boys, twenty and eighteen years old; and thirteen-year-old twins, a boy and a girl.

With all the fear and adrenaline, I debated if I should tell my family what was happening. How does a father turn to his family and explain that no-one was coming to save us. The army was hours away. My mind started racing – how do I prepare my family for this battle. We have no guns. What if the terrorists come in our home? Should I tell my children that this might be our last day alive?

I called over the two older boys. I began to tell them – gently – about what was happening. They didn't need my hesitation: “Abba, we have phones. We already know what's going on. Just tell us what to do. What's the plan?”

My army training kicked in, and we analyzed our environment. The weakest point in our home is the large glass doors. I knew that if the terrorists would try to enter, it would be from there. There is no way to barricade it, so we prepared to fight.

My oldest, the twenty year old, is a scuba diver. We had no weapons or ammunition, but he has a harpoon. He stationed himself directly across from the large window. Myself and my eighteen year old clutched the sharpest knives we could find in the kitchen. Each of us on either side of the window.

If a terrorist entered, we would fire the harpoon, and jump on his neck. That was the plan; it was all that we had.

I then took my thirteen year son aside and told him: While me and your brothers are fighting, your job is to get your mother and sister to safety. We planned the escape routes. At the age of 13, he was now a soldier.

We stayed in position for hours that morning, as we heard the helicopters and the shooting nearby. We waited for the invaders, but somehow, they did not come.

Miraculously, Baruch Hashem, Kfar Maimon was saved. We found out about the miracle afterwards. Forty terrorists left Kibbutz Be'eri and made their way to Kfar Maimon. As they we arriving at the gates, a Hamas rocket hit a Tzahal helicopter and forced it to land. Amazingly, neither the pilot, nor the soldiers were harmed. But as the Chayalim evacuated the helicopter, they found the forty terrorists coming from Be'eri, engaged them and succeeded in killing them all. It was a 'nes min ha-shamayim.' Hashem was watching over us.

The following night was the worst of my life. Every noise, every shadow, every whisper. I thought they were coming back.

We spend the night awake, taking turns holding the door of the safe room. After thirty hours in the shelter, we saw another family, a neighbor getting reading to leave. We decided to evacuate with them, and split our two families in two, in case one of the cars was attacked.

As we began driving, we saw hundreds of cars on the sides of the road. I told the children to keep their heads down so that they would be safe. This was true of course, but I also didn't want to them to see what I was seeing; the blood and the the bodies.

When we finally arrived in Kiryat Gat, I told my kids they could sit up in the car. We were anxious and starving. I got to a bakery in the late afternoon and asked them what they had available. The owner looked around and pointed to thirty loaves of bread that were left that day. I took out my wallet “I'll take all of them please.” I have never felt so vulnerable in my life.

It's been three weeks since that day. Every night, my kids have been crying in the hotel room. But I tell them: We are the lucky ones. We’re all alive and we have each other.

They still have many questions.

...

Amongst the cruelest challenges is the impossible task of Jewish parents talking to our children about this war. Of course, parents in Israel are experiencing this far more acutely than those of us in Chutz La'aretz. But across the world, children are asking their parents “Why do they hate us?” “What does hostage mean?” “What is happening to the little babies that were kidnapped?”

Each child asks according to what they have seen or been exposed to. As parents, we try to shield them from seeing or hearing the horrors. But we also want to keep them safe; stay vigilant; somehow without causing hysteria and trauma. No two kids are the same – each one requires care, concern and a nuanced approach. In general, I highly recommend reaching out to professionals to ensure that your children are not overly and unnecessarily exposed to pain and trauma.

In the deepest way, the way we speak to our children holds all of our fears, hopes and dreams in the balance. We want our children to be safe now. And we want them to feel connected to Klal Yisrael in this time of great need. Yet, we are maintaining the desperate tefillah that this trauma will never be relevant in their lives and futures. We don't want this cloud to cast a shadow over their futures.

Most importantly, we want to ensure that our children can feel confident in knowing that we will always tell them the truth – somehow without causing them any pain or damage.

Tragically, this question is not new to us as a nation. We have survived many such events in the long years of exile. And, to a certain extent, this question is one that arrises every year during the three weeks and the nine days. Do we educate our children to observe these laws and customs? Or perhaps we temper this chinuch with the aspiration that by the time our children are Bnei and Bnos Mitzvah, we will no longer be mourning the destruction of the Beis HaMikdash? The poskim grapple with these considerations.

There are no simple answers to these questions, and many might be tempted to avoid speaking to our kids about this at all. But I would like to suggest that in this particularly complex time, there is an enormous amount of wisdom that we can gain from our children as well.

As adults, we train ourselves look at the world with nuance; but often times, that nuance is is conflated with ego, politics and self-righteous justification.

There is a certain truth that children can offer us in these times: Kids are uniquely positioned to see the world in black and white. They are naturally inclined to define actions as good or evil. This is a perspective that many adults are sorely lacking.

To put it simply: Sometimes things are not that complicated. Sometimes there are people that have chosen to perpetrate evil, and others who are living their lives with love and care and goodness.

There is much to be gained by telling our children and ourselves that Klal Yisrael is fighting a war against evil. Hamas is evil. Kids understand this, and it's valuable for us to say it unequivocally. In talking to our children, we are forced to reduce this conflict to its core: This is war between right and wrong.

Perhaps this is the great life lesson of Sarah Imenu, as the Medrash tells us:

בַּת עֶשְׂרִים כְּבַת שֶׁבַע לְנוֹי, בַּת מֵאָה כְּבַת עֶשְׂרִים שָׁנָה לְחֵטְא When twenty years old she was like a seven year old girl regarding beauty, and when a hundred years old she was like a twenty year old regarding sin.

Sarah Imenu never lost her childlike appreciation of the beauty of the world. She never became a cynical about the possibility of an amazing future. And thought her life, her distain for sin and evil remained intact. Sarah Imenu never lost sight of what is right and wrong, good and evil, and despite that and all that she saw, she lived a life of hopes, dreams and aspirations.

Hashem should help us all, and all of our children, to emerge from the war intact – physically, emotionally and spiritually.

Above: A Surprise Sheva Brachos in the Tzahal base in Chevron.

On Monday afternoon, arriving from the airport, I walked into the dining room of the Dan Panorama jet lagged and shellshocked. The lobby looked like a refugee camp. Displaced families from the south painfully wearing the expressions of people who never imagined they would see the things that they saw.

As I got to the coffee machine, an elderly women looked up at me from her table. In her shaking hands was a large print Birkon. “Can you please help me find the page for Birkat HaMazon?” She asked. “Once I have it, I can follow the words. But it's hard for me to find it without my glasses. I don't have them anymore.”

She and her family have evacuated their Kibbutz in the South. I didn't have the heart to ask what happened to those glasses, or the home she used to live in. But I helped her find the page. I watched her say the ancient words of birkas hamazon: נוֹדֶה לְּךָ ה' אֱלֹקינוּ עַל שֶׁהִנְחַלְתָּ לַאֲבוֹתֵינוּ אֶרֶץ חֶמְדָּה טוֹבָה וּרְחָבָה – We thank you, Hashem our God, that you have given as an inheritance to our ancestors a wonderful, good and expansive land. She said them with pain and gratitude. She meant every word.

...

There was a man, an evacuee from Yachini playing the guitar in the lobby late on Monday night. I took out my ukulele and we played together for a while. “How are you doing?” I asked. In typical Israel fashion, he answered confidently “Beseder gamur” – totally ok. But then, quite atypically he laughed ironically and explained: “We are Besder – we're ok. But Gamur. Totaled. We're done.”

We continued to play music together, until a teen from Sderot came downstairs with his electric guitar, and a small group formed for an impromptu kumzitz.

This was my introduction to a New Medinat Yisrael.

I have merited to visit this incredible country many times. But something has changed. It's not the same as it was before Simchas Torah 5784.

In this new country refugees from their homes thank Hashem for this wonderful land. They are emotionally, physically and psychologically traumatized. They are exhausted, drained and heartbroken. But emerging from this heartbreak is a love for Klal Yisrael which I have never seen.

...

We met Yiscah, the widow of Yoni Steinberg hy”d, the commander of Nachal Brigade who fell defending Kibbutz Kerem Shalom on Simchas Torah. She described her husband as modest and disciplined; a man committed to a life of Talmud Torah. She told us of their mutual decision to live their lives for the sake of Klal Yisrael. She told us how he would return from tactical operations for Shabbos, and she made sure to fit the Shabbos meals around his schedule of Chavrusos throughout the day. She is so proud of this man who died as he lived, leaving behind six children an unimaginable legacy of Ahavas Torah and Mesirus Nefesh.

Yiscah is heartbroken, but completely whole in a way I could not understand. Every word and tear quietly screamed to the world that she is a woman who knows that her life is part of a much greater story. A story that is eternal, that defies death; a song which is rising to its magnificent crescendo.

I walked out of their home feeling that there is something new flowing through the veins of our brothers and sisters in Israel. Perhaps it was always there, silently gathering strength; but in these past three weeks it is impossible to ignore.

...

Rav Binyamin Machluf introduced us to the army base at Tziporit; a place of tears and kedusha like no other. “Here,” he explained, “we identify the bodies of those who were murdered.”

“We have fingerprint scanners, a dental team, and DNA lab. There are things that we have seen that no person should ever see. So many tears. So much pain. But the hardest thing that I have to do, is to tell a parent that their child is in this place.”

There is a large team of soldiers on the base. Rabbis, doctors, dentists, scientists. All who have left their regular lives to re-enlist in the sacred units of those who bring comfort, closure and kedusha to Jews living through Gehenom, as those who they love rise to Gan Eden.

At this base, like all others, there is simply no distinction between right and left, religious or secular. The have worked sleeplessly for three weeks, and will continue to do so until there are no more tears to shed.

It struck me as we got back onto the bus that these soldiers have witnessed the worst of the worst. They have seen the brutality and cruelty of our enemies with their own eyes. Yet, amazingly, they carry no anger. There is no rage, no vengeance. There is singing, laughter, friendship and an iron clad resolve that they will return home only once the enemy is completely and utterly destroyed.

This feeling was ubiquitous from base to base, from every soldier we met.

In the hearts and minds of our Chayalim, there is no question about whether we will win or lose. They have full confidence that we will win. It is already a forgone conclusion; a story that must unfold. Each of them is ready to give their lives to ensure it. Their unity is infectious; there is no fear, no hesitation.

They are no afraid of losing the war. They are afraid of losing each other again.

Something has changed in this country.

...

The Medrash (ילקוט שמעוני על התורה ק״א) tells us that as Avraham stretched out his hand to perform the Akeida, the Neshama of Yitzchak left his body and flew to Shamayim:

ר' יהודה אומר כיון שהגיע החרב לצואר פרחה ויצאה נשמתו של יצחק. וכיון שהשמיע קולו מבין שני הכרובים אל תשלח ידך אל הנער חזרה נפשו לגופו והתירו ועמד יצחק וידע יצחק שכך עתידים המתים לחיות ופתח ואמר בא”י מחיה המתים.

When Yitzchak heard from the between the Keruvim “Do not lay a hand on that boy,” his soul returned to his body. At that moment, yitzchak knew that the revival of the dead will one day come to be, and he made the bracha “He who revives the dead.”

The Malbim (בראשית כב:ט) explains this enigmatic Medrash:

According to the laws of nature, Avraham and Sarah were childless. Both of them infertile, and well beyond child bearing years. Yet, through their immense greatness and merit, Hashem granted them a miracle child: Yitzchak.

This means that the existence of the Jewish people is antithetical to nature. We exist miraculously on the merits of of own greatness. But were it to ever happen that we would fall from these heights, the miracle of our existence would cease. We would be no longer.

The Yitzchak of miracles died on the mizbeach that day.

וכשירד מן המזבח לא ירד אז יצחק הקודם שנולד נגד המערכה, רק יצחק אחר מוקדש לה' שאין לו עסק עם המערכה

The Yitzchak who relied on miracles and merits to exist was placed on the mizbeach. And an entirely different Yitzchak descended from that mizbeach. This Yitzchak is transcendently cleaving to Hashem. This Yitzchak has no connection to the limits of the natural world at all.

...

Something has changed in this country. There was a terrible Akeida on Simchas Torah. But in the days and weeks since that horrific day, there is a new Yitzchak, a new Jewish people.

This nation, our nation, is not interested in the words and wills of the world. They are in love with their land, in love with each other and desperately in love with Hashem.

They are heartbroken but completely whole. They have risen from the ashes and are fighting for us in Chutz La'aretz. They know that they will win, and they want to ensure that we have a safe place to call home.

More than anything, they want us to join them; they're are waiting for us to come home.

In 1917, when the Balfour Declaration was signed, Torah communities in Europe were in a tizzy. Many celebrated and saw this as the heralding of our final Redemption; the Geulah had arrived! Others, however, ardent opponents of Zionism, viewed the declaration with despair and frustration; concerned that Klal Yisrael was settling for a small piece of redemption at the cost of delaying hopes for the Geulah Sheleima.

Within this confusion, a group of Chassidim approached the Belzer Rebbe, Reb Yissachar Dov Rokeach. Timidly, they asked their Rebbe how they should understand this enormous historical event.

The Rebbe did not answer the question directly. Instead, he opened his Chumash to Parshas Beshalach, detailing the story of the splitting of the Red Sea.

Imagine, he explained, the feeling amongst Klal Yisrael before they arrived at Yam Suf. For three days they marched triumphantly out of Egypt, matzos on their backs, freedom ahead of them, slavery behind them. That is, until they arrive at the Red Sea.

Before anyone could celebrate their new found freedom, the Torah tells us that Paroah was charging at them along with his entire army. Rage in their eyes, and weapons in their hands with renewed fury and unhinged vengeance.

In the terror of that moment, Klal Yisrael turned to Moshe and melted in fear:

!?הֲמִבְּלִי אֵין קְבָרִים בְּמִצְרַיִם לְקַחְתָּנוּ לָמוּת בַּמִּדְבָּר

“Were there no graves in Egypt, that have you taken us away to die in the wilderness!?”

That was their question.

But for us, many generations later, the greater question to ask is why any of this needed to happen at all. As the pesukim describe, Paroah did not decide to chase the nation. Hashem made him do so:

וְחִזַּקְתִּי אֶת לֵב פַּרְעֹה וְרָדַף אַחֲרֵיהֶם...

I will harden Pharaoh’s heart, and he will follow after them...

But why would Hashem do such a thing? There had already been Ten Plagues. The Egyptian economy has been all but eradicated. Hashem's dominance over land, beast, sky, water and people has been irrefutably proven. The Jewish people had already left Egypt! Why would Hashem make Paroah chase them? Why did the story of Yam Suf happen at all?!

The Ibn Ezra (שמות יד:א), the first of the commentators to ask this question, answers in astonishment:

מדרך האמת אין ראוי למשכיל לחשוב על מעשה השם למה עשה כן...ומחשבות השם עמוקות.

It is truly not proper for an intelligent person to scrutinize God’s actions and ask, why did the Lord act thus? ... God’s thoughts are very deep.

The Ibn Ezra concedes that he sees no obvious explanation for Hashem causing Paroah to chase us.

(This point is made even stronger in light of the Rambam's understanding of miracles. For the Rambam, Hashem only does miracles for a purpose. What was the purpose of bringing the Egyptians to Yam Suf only to have the sea part and the Egyptians drown?)

The Belzer Rebbe explained:

As we left Egypt, the Torah tells us that וַיְהִי בְּשַׁלַּח פַּרְעֹה אֶת הָעָם – it was when Paroah set us free. In a certain sense, the purpose of the ten plagues was to convince Paroah and the world that Hashem is in charge. And it worked! In the middle of the night, Paroah chased us out. He set us free.

The Rebbe then concluded: In the deepest way, we will be never be free so long as we think someone else is granting our freedom. The purpose of the ten plagues was for Paroah to free us. The purpose of Yam Suf, however, was for us to finally free ourselves.

His message was clear. We are grateful to the world for giving us permission to return to Eretz Yisrael. But there will come a time where they will revoke their permission. They will challenge our rights to safety, security and self determination. When that day comes, we will need to free ourselves.

Avraham's Battle Plan

This Shabbos, Avraham goes to war. Or rather, he enters himself into a massive international conflict for the purpose of rescuing his nephew, Lot.

When the Torah relates the story of this war, however, Avraham is given a new title: אַבְרָם הָעִבְרִי – Avram the 'Hebrew'.

The Medrash questions the meaning of this title, and explains that Avraham experienced a profound sense of aloneness in that moment, in three different ways:

וַיַּגֵּד לְאַבְרָם הָעִבְרִי – רַבִּי יְהוּדָה וְרַבִּי נְחֶמְיָה וְרַבָּנָן, רַבִּי יְהוּדָה אוֹמֵר כָּל הָעוֹלָם כֻּלּוֹ מֵעֵבֶר אֶחָד וְהוּא מֵעֵבֶר אֶחָד. רַבִּי נְחֶמְיָה אָמַר שֶׁהוּא מִבְּנֵי בָּנָיו שֶׁל עֵבֶר. וְרַבָּנָן אָמְרֵי שֶׁהוּא מֵעֵבֶר הַנָּהָר, וְשֶׁהוּא מֵשִׂיחַ בִּלְשׁוֹן עִבְרִי.

1.Rabbi Yehuda says: The entire world was on one side and he was on the other side [עבר].

He was completely alone against the world. Notwithstanding the fact that he maintained multiple alliances with his friends and neighbors, Avraham knew that no one would fight this fight for him.

2.Rabbi Nechemya said: Because he was among the descendants of Ever.

Avraham had taken upon himself to uphold the traditions of Shem and Ever. He was a member of the tiny society of monotheists in the ancient world. His mission was to educate humanity in the morals and ways of Hashem, and this begins with taking responsibility for our brothers and sisters in captivity.

3.The Rabbis say: It is because he is from the other side [עבר] of the river, and he spoke the Hebrew [עברי] language.

Avraham came from a different world. He spoke a different language. He knew, in the deepest sense, that there was no way that the world as it was would ever understand him. No one would come to his aid, he was completely alone.

Perhaps the Time has Come

We, as a nation, have come a long way since founding our State. Our rise from the ashes of Europe is nothing short of miraculous. There is no greater indication of Hashem's Hand in History than the Modern State of Israel. But I dare say that the time has come to recognize that the next steps of our national journey must be taken by us alone. It is time we stopped grasping for the hands of the world, and we started holding onto Hashem.

Notwithstanding our political alliances – for which we are incredibly grateful – we owe it to ourselves to stop the madness of seeking permission to exist. It is high time we stop living like slaves to western society.

We are still tempted to cry out and beg the world to understand us. We plead with them to explain their insane double standards. We write blogs, share memes and comment on posts.

We ask: Why are the most tolerant and liberal of college campuses such cesspools of anti-semitism? How does such supposed “tolerance” lead to such hatred? Why is it that “BlackLivesMatter” unless they are Jewish? Why do we “BelieveHer” unless she's Israeli?

These questions are as important as they are heartbreaking. But if we are honest, by this point we know that no satisfactory answers will be forthcoming. Not anytime soon.

Of course, this does not mean that we should stop decrying the moral depravity in the world around us, we should continue to protest loud and clear! Perhaps we will be be successful in withholding funding from a Jew hating college, or getting an anti-semite fired from their high power job. But with all of that external activity, there are far better questions that we need to be asking ourselves internally.

Perhaps it's time we ask ourselves: Why are some of us still reluctant or ashamed to wear a kippa and tzitzis in public or at work? Why are we still sending our children to anti-semitic Ivy-League colleges? Why do we allow them to come to college guidance meetings at all? Why are we not making plans to live in the Land that Hashem has promised to us, or at least encouraging our children to do so?

There are thousands of questions we should be asking ourselves, but they all come down to one simple dichotomy: Are we trying to live in a world that “they” made for us, or can we finally say “this is Hashem's world, and I will live like a Jew.”

Avraham Ha'Ivri is reaching across history to tell us that the existence of the State of Israel, Jewish Life and the World of Torah can no longer be dependent on world opinion. We do not need the UN, the EU or even the USA to grant us permission to live as Jews. It's time we left exile on our own.

“Rabbi, what am I supposed to feel right now? Some moments I just want to cry, others I'm so filled with love and pride.”

“I can't think straight. I keep refreshing the news like I'm waiting for someone to make sense out of all of this.”

“My wife and I were planning on going out for our anniversary. Should we push it off as we mourn for those who were murdered? Or continue as planned for the sake of our own shalom bayis?”

“Does continuing to smile and celebrate show our enemies that they cannot stop us? Or are we being selfish by thinking of ourselves in such a desperate time?”

***

The past two weeks have introduced us a host of questions that we thought we would never need to address. A host of confusing emotional quandaries, and heart wrenching halachik shailos that have been brought to poskim in Eretz Yisrael.

How are we supposed to live with both Simcha and sensitivity in a such a complex and painful world?

Our generation is not accustomed to contending with the enormity of these questions or emotions. For the past few decades, our Yiddishkeit has focused largely on steady, incremental growth, on warmth and positivity – all to great success.

Our experiences since Simchas Torah are new to anyone born since the Holocaust. It has been many years since we felt the existential horror of a pogrom. But it has also been many years since we have experienced such national unity. We are not used to oscillating between such tragedy and such transcendence, and the whiplash is jarring, painful and confusing.

But for better or worse, as Jews, we are uniquely positioned to address our current reality. In many ways, the past two weeks invites us – or rather, forces us – to draw strength and perspective from the most ancient wells of our tradition. We are being pulled into a historic moment and aside from learning to cope with the here and now, we will need to prepare ourselves for what is still to come.

Make Time for Heartbreak

The first skill to learn is making deliberate time for Heartbreak. Not sadness, heartbreak. As Rebbe Nachman (שיחות הר”ן מא) explains:

לֵב נִשְׁבָּר וְעַצְבוּת – אֵינוֹ עִנְיָן אֶחָד כְּלָל... וְהָיָה טוֹב שֶׁיִּהְיֶה לוֹ לֵב נִשְׁבָּר כָּל הַיּוֹם, אַךְ אֲנָשִׁים כְּעֶרְכְּכֶם יְכוֹלִין לָבוֹא מִלֵּב נִשְׁבָּר לְעַצְבוּת. עַל־כֵּן צְרִיכִין לְיַחֵד אֵיזֶה שָׁעָה בַּיּוֹם שֶׁיִּהְיֶה לוֹ לֵב נִשְׁבָּר, דְּהַיְנוּ לְהִתְבּוֹדֵד וּלְשַׁבֵּר לִבּוֹ לְפָנָיו יִתְבָּרַךְ, אֲבָל שְׁאָר כָּל הַיּוֹם כֻּלּוֹ יִהְיֶה רַק בְּשִׂמְחָה.

Broken-heartedness and depression are not at all the same... It would be very good to be broken-hearted all day long. But for the average person, this can easily degenerate into depression. You should therefore set aside some time each day and isolate yourself to express your broken-heartedness to God for a given time. But the rest of the day should be joyful.

Wallowing in sadness and depression removes our ability to grow, learn and make a difference in the world. But one cannot ignore the pain inside of ourselves or the fresh tears of our friends and family. So make time for it.

For generations since the destruction of the Beis HaMikdash, tzadikim would seclude themselves every night at midnight to say Tikkun Chatzos. They would carve out time to fully experience the weight of their own loss and brokenness – and then emerge ready and prepared to reengage with a renewed sense of purpose and Avoda.

Perhaps we are not all ready for Tikkun Chatzos quite yet; but it's powerful and valuable to carve out time to feel. All too often, we attempt to cope by running from the pain, the images and the videos; only to feel guilty of insensitivity. So let's allow ourselves a few moments every day to cry. We owe it to ourselves and the 1400+ families sitting shiva. We owe it to those Jews who have no one left to sit shiva.

The pain is real. Give it a time and place. When we allow ourselves the time to collect and reflect on our experiences and exposures, we are a little less desperate, less broken.

Living in Two Worlds

Once we have made the space to feel our pain, the most important skill to learn and practice is emerging from it. The Ba'al HaTanya (ליקוטי אמרים כו) explains that falling into despair and brokenness is a sure way to fail in battles both physical and spiritual:

בְּרַם, כְּגוֹן דָּא צָרִיךְ לְאוֹדוֹעֵי כְּלָל גָּדוֹל: כִּי כְּמוֹ שֶׁנִּצָּחוֹן לְנַצֵּחַ דָּבָר גַּשְׁמִי, כְּגוֹן: שְׁנֵי אֲנָשִׁים הַמִּתְאַבְּקִים זֶה עִם זֶה לְהַפִּיל זֶה אֶת זֶה, הִנֵּה, אִם הָאֶחָד הוּא בְּעַצְלוּת וּכְבֵדוּת – יְנוּצַּח בְּקַל וְיִפּוֹל גַּם אִם הוּא גִּבּוֹר יוֹתֵר מֵחֲבֵירוֹ, כָּכָה מַמָּשׁ בְּנִצְחוֹן הַיֵּצֶר, אִי אֶפְשָׁר לְנַצְּחוֹ בְּעַצְלוּת וּכְבֵדוּת – הַנִּמְשָׁכוֹת מֵעַצְבוּת וְטִמְטוּם הַלֵּב כָּאֶבֶן, כִּי אִם, בִּזְרִיזוּת – הַנִּמְשֶׁכֶת מִשִּׂמְחָה וּפְתִיחַת הַלֵּב, וְטָהֳרָתוֹ מִכָּל נִדְנוּד דְּאָגָה וָעֶצֶב בָּעוֹלָם.

Truly this should be made known as a cardinal principle, that as with a victory over a physical obstacle, such as in the case of two individuals who are wrestling with each other, each striving to throw the other—if one is lazy and sluggish he will easily be defeated and thrown, even though he be stronger than the other, exactly so is it in the conquest of one’s evil nature; it is impossible to conquer it with laziness and heaviness, which originate in sadness and in a heart that is dulled like a stone, but rather with alacrity which derives from joy and from a heart that is free and cleansed from any trace of worry and sadness in the world.

Perhaps one of the greatest recent examples of transcending sadness comes from a meeting of the Piascezno Rebbe, the Rebbe of the Warsaw Ghetto (whose Yahrzeit is this week), and the Koziglover Rav, Rosh Yeshiva of Yeshivas Chachmei Lublin.

Dr. Henry Abramson cites this episode in his book “Torah from the Years of Wrath”, pg 238; a moment that occurred in the Schulz shoe factory in Ghetto, as recording by Hillel Seidman in October 1942:

Sitting beside the anvil for shoe repairing... is the Koziglover Rav, Yehudah Aryeh Frimer, once the Dean of Yeshivat Hakhmei Lublin. He is sitting here, but his spirit in sailing in other worlds. He continues his studies from memory, without interruption, his lips moving constantly. From time to time he addresses a word to the Piaseczno Rebbe, Rabbi Kalonymus Shapira, the author of Hovat haTalmidim, who is sitting opposite him, and a subdued discussion on a Torah topic ensues. Talmudic and rabbinic quotations fly back and forth; soon there appear on the anvil— or, to be precise, on the minds and lips of these brilliant scholars — the words of Maimonides and Ravad, the author of the Tur, Rama, earlier and later authorities. The atmosphere of the factory is filled with the opinions of eminent scholars, so who cares about the S.S., the German overseers, the hunger, suffering, persecution and fear of death? They are really sailing in the upper worlds; they're not sitting in a factory on Nowolipie 46, but rather in the Hall of the Sanhedrin…

These two giants traversed the vast chasm between the depths of Hell and the highest peaks of Heaven. Perhaps this is more than we can expect from ourselves. But in our own way, we can certainly begin training; each of us on our own level. Can we escape to a place of truth and meaning for an hour each day? Can we escape for a minute? Can we work on shutting out the noise and the lies and tethering ourselves to the world of Truth for a few moments every day?

The Baal Shem Tov (נח טו) famously explained that this is the secret of Hashem's command to Noach: צהר תעשה לתבה – Make an opening for daylight in the ark:

“Make an opening [tzohar] for the ark [teivah]: let the word (teivah) said in Torah or in prayer radiate light (matzhir)!

We can certainly hold onto sanity and sanctity in the raging waters of today. But it will require the discipline to care for our own emotional needs, the empathy to care for each other, and a deep desire to emerge from the flood with the power to rebuild the world. Most importantly, it will require an unwavering connection to the world of truth.

Hashem should help us to bring His light in this world of confusion until He illuminates the world, in the words of the Siddur each day:

אוֹר חָדָשׁ עַל־צִיּוֹן תָּאִיר וְנִזְכֶּה כֻלָּֽנוּ מְהֵרָה לְאוֹרו – Shine a new light upon Tzion, and may we all soon be privileged to enjoy its radiance.

Every year, Shabbos Bereishis is an opportunity for a fresh start. This Shabbos was supposed to be a new beginning; a return to routines and schedules. Of course, this is not the beginning that any of us were hoping for.

Nevertheless, as Jews who are מאמינים בני מאמינים, we know and understand that Hashem is calling us to start anew in a very different way. Our world has changed since Simchas Torah 5784, and so we must change as well.

There are many things that we can do, despite our distance from from miles and oceans away; and I am constantly inspired by the enormity of our Kehilla's generosity, unity and Tefillos. But an addition to directing our focus outwards, we need to focus our Avoda inwards. Make no mistake: This Avoda is just as essential for our nation and Chayalim.

Your Mitzvos Make a Difference

We are tempted by the Yezter Hara to believe that in times of nation crisis our personal mitzvos and observance are less important. We know that our soldiers are doing important work, as well as the volunteers on the ground, the medics and intelligence agencies. We imagine that our role is relegated to supplying and supporting them.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

The Shelah HaKadosh (מסכת יומא קצד) explains:

יש רצים אחרים בסטרא אחרא שרצים להרע לישראל ולהכניע מזלם לשלוט עליהם... וכשהאדם רודף אחר המצות ברגליו ושוקיו, נותן כח וחיל לאלו הרצים הקדושים שימהרו מרוצתם ויגברו על הרצים החצונים.

There are those who run to do the work of the “other side”, the side of evil, running to destroy the Jewish people. Sometimes, when the evil ones run with strength, they are able to succeed. But when a Jew uses their legs to run to do a mitzvah they give strength to the Runners of Kedusha, that they are able to move swiftly and overcome their enemies.

With a profound understanding that all of Klal Yisrael is One, the mitzvos that we do with our legs give power to our Chayalim. The mitzvos we do with our eyes give them the ability to see further. The mitzvos we do with our hands helps to steady their hands and strengthen them to fight for us.

This is true for everything that we do, Torah, Tefillah and Chessed. For this Shabbos, however, there is one Mitzvah that I invite you to upgrade: Havdalah. Most weeks we rush through it, without much thought. But for Shabbos Bereishis in particular, there is a deep Avoda in making Havdalah.

Make Havdalah with Kavana this Week

This Shabbos at BRS West, we are inviting the entire community to Shaloshudis, leaning and Havdalah. Specifically, I want to say Havdalah together – ברוב עם – as a community.

We are living in a world where the difference between good and evil is not obvious. Of course, we are certainly grateful to the many world leaders in the US and beyond that have stated their unequivocal support for Israel. But we are equally conscious of the many in the US and around the world who are justifying and celebrating the horrors perpetrated against us.

The Torah tells us this week that Hashem created Light in a world of Darkness and then: וַיַּבְדֵּל אֱלֹקים בֵּין הָאוֹר וּבֵין הַחֹשֶׁךְ – God separated the light from the darkness.

The Medrash Rabba (בראשית רבה ג׳:ח) explains this separation as it pertains to our Avoda today:

אָמַר רַבִּי יַנַּאי מִתְּחִלַּת בְּרִיָּתוֹ שֶׁל עוֹלָם צָפָה הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא מַעֲשֵׂיהֶן שֶׁל צַדִּיקִים וּמַעֲשֵׂיהֶם שֶׁל רְשָׁעִים, וְהָאָרֶץ הָיְתָה תֹהוּ, אֵלּוּ מַעֲשֵׂיהֶם שֶׁל רְשָׁעִים. וַיֹּאמֶר אֱלֹהִים יְהִי אוֹר, אֵלּוּ מַעֲשֵׂיהֶן שֶׁל צַדִּיקִים. וַיַּבְדֵּל אֱלֹהִים בֵּין הָאוֹר וּבֵין הַחשֶׁךְ, בֵּין מַעֲשֵׂיהֶן שֶׁל צַדִּיקִים לְמַעֲשֵׂיהֶן שֶׁל רְשָׁעִים.

Rabbi Yanai said: Right from the beginning of the creation of the world, the Holy One blessed be He foresaw the actions of the righteous and the actions of the wicked. “The earth was emptiness” (Genesis 1:2) – these are the actions of the wicked. “God said: Let there be light” (Genesis 1:3) – these are the actions of the righteous. “God distinguished between the light and the darkness” (Genesis 1:4) – between the actions of the righteous and the actions of the wicked.

Apparently, since the beginning of all existence, there was a need to separate, to differentiate and to distinguish between good and evil, light and dark, night and day. Without this differentiation, our values remain intermingled and fraught. It is unclear who fights for light and who for darkness.

Rabbeinu Bachya (שלחן של ארבע שער א) explains that when we make Havdalah, we are partnering with Hashem in recreating the world. But what kind of world do we want to create?

Now more than ever, we need to rebuild a world that can see the difference between light and darkness, between the Jewish people and our enemies. And we need to entrench this truth within ourselves.

We need to know and believe that our cause is true, that we run and fight for Hashem and His Torah. There will almost certainly come a time in the coming day and weeks when the world will tell us to “show restraint”. They will challenge the line between light and dark, day and night.

When that day comes, our nation will need to find the resolve to make “Havalah” between good and evil. We will need to fight when they tell us that day is night and night is day.

How to Make Havdalah When the World is Confused

If we aim to ensure that the world sees the difference between light and dark, we need to take the next steps: בֵּין אוֹר לְחֹשֶׁךְ, בֵּין יִשְׂרָאֵל לָעַמִּים, בֵּין יוֹם הַשְּׁבִיעִי לְשֵׁשֶׁת יְמֵי הַמַּעֲשֶׂה – between light and darkness, between Klal Yisrael and the nations, between Shabbos and the six days of the week.

At this critical junction in history, Hashem is knocking on the door reminding us that there is a difference between Klal Yisrael and the nations of the world. He is reminding us of our mission and sacred bond to each other. Chas V'Shalom that any of us should denigrate, hurt or insult another Jew. It is not a secret that the roots of exile are in Sinas Chinam – baseless hatred; and the roots of redemption are in unity. Now is the time to put every disagreement and opinion aside and find the common ground of being Klal Yisrael – children of Hashem.

Between Shabbos and the Six Days of the Week

The final stage of Havdalah is knowing that truth and unity are not enough. Once we have stood up for light and truth, and recommitted to unity, we state emphatically that cannot do it alone. Of course, for six days we are obligated to work, we must put in our maximum effort, but on Shabbos we turn to the Master of all World and declare: You are the One in charge!

Shabbos is the eternal reminder: וְזָכַרְתָּ אֶת־ה' אֱלֹהֶיךָ כִּי הוּא הַנֹּתֵן לְךָ כֹּחַ לַעֲשׂוֹת חָיִל – Remember that it Hashem, your God who gives you the power to achieve victory.

On that Pasuk (דברים ח:יח), the Ramban teaches us:

ידוע כי ישראל גבורים ואנשי חיל למלחמה כי נמשלו לאריות ולזאב יטרף ומלכי כנען במלחמה נצחו אותם על כן אמר אם תחשוב כחי ועצם ידי עשה לי את החיל הזה תזכור השם שהוציא אותך ממצרים ולא היה לך שם כח ועצם יד כלל

It is known that Klal Yisrael are mighty men, valiant men for the war and they are likened to lions and to a ravenous wolf. They vanquished the Canaanite kings in battle. Therefore Moshe says, “If you should think, ‘my power and the might of my hand has gotten me this wealth,’ you should remember God Who brought you out from Egypt where you had no power or might of hand at all.

B'ezras Hashem, we should soon see Hashem making the Havdalah we all so desperately need: וָאַבְדִּל אֶתְכֶם מִן־הָעַמִּים לִהְיוֹת לִי – Hashem will separate us from our enemies and once again become His.

In 1990, it the behest of the acclaimed astronomer Carl Sagan, NASA turned the camera’s of Voyager 1 to face earth. In a photograph captured from a distance of about 6 billion kilometers, Earth's apparent size is less than a pixel – one pixel out 640000. The planet appears as a tiny dot against the vastness of space, among bands of sunlight scattered by the camera's optics.

This picture was famously referred to as “The Pale Blue Dot.” Carl Sagan, remarked about it:

“From this distant vantage point, the Earth might not seem of any particular interest. But for us, it's different. Consider again that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every “superstar,” every “supreme leader,” every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there – on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.”

This perspective is overwhelming and difficult to imagine. It’s a fact of our existence, but one which we feel uncomfortably small considering. The truth is that we, human beings are not comfortable with the powers of nature much closer to home. We, alone amongst the species of our planet, have spent our history inventing marvelous and miraculous ways to avoid experiencing the natural world.

Air conditioning, heating and screens. Umbrellas, raincoats, boots and seat warmers built into our cars. Of course, these are primarily a function of comfort, but in a much deeper way, they also serve to alleviate our fears of inadequacy in the face of natural power. A power, that Hurricanes and storms remind us of all too clearly.

Our disconnect from the natural word allows us the disillusion of thinking that we are far more invincible than we actually are.

The Beis Yaakov of Izbitz explains that this disillusionment is part of a larger concern of human kind. We do not enjoy staring our inadequacies in the face – we don’t like looking at our weaknesses head on. So we hide from our own smallness. We create spaces where we can be content, comfortable and secure, and at all costs, we avoid stepping outside of those bubbles. And there’s good reason for it too. On a psychological level, it could be quite dangerous to expose oneself so completely to the totality of the universe.

So Hashem gives us Chag HaSukkos. It comes after the Yamim Noraim; at time where we’ve done some serious reflection and introspection and have begun taking the necessary steps to change those things about ourselves that we’re not so proud of.

With this fresh perspective, Hashem asks us to step outside of the comfort zone expose ourselves – not too much, just a little. And this idea is reflected in all the halachos of Sukkah.

We need a structure that is temporary, but one that provides shade. A structure in which one can feel the rain, and see the stars. The roof is all natural and it cannot be so high that we forget where we’re sitting.

The goal of leaving our homes, and entering the Sukkah is to get in touch with our vulnerabilities. To reconnect with the natural world, and thereby recognize our own smallness.

The Sukkah provides an opportunity to open ourselves to an encounter with the Master of the Universe, Creator of Heaven and Earth. We’re stripping away a layer of hubris and invincibility and acknowledging that we have more to achieve, more to grow and greater distance to cover.

But ultimately, the purpose of it all is to recognize that nothing is possible without Hashem. All of our brilliance, ingenuity and creativity is meaningless without His desire for us to be here. The Sukkah is a week-long demonstration that despite the vastness of universe, Hashem cares about me and you.

The Seder HaDoros tells an incredible story from the life of the Ramban:

The Ramban once had a student, Rav Avner, who converted to Catholicism and assimilated into Spanish society. Soon he rose to the highest ranks of the nobility. Once he summoned his former teacher to appear before him on Yom Kippur.

Fearful of the possible negative consequences that could arise from not heeding the order and hopeful that the influence of the holy day would enable him to spur his former student to repentance, the Ramban made his way to Avner’s palace.

When he entered, he was ushered into his student’s chamber. Avner had been waiting for him. He took a knife, approached a pig that he had prepared, slaughtered it, cut it up, roasted its meat on a fire, and ate it with relish.

“How many transgressions involving the serious punishment of Kerais did I just commit?” he asked the Ramban.

“Four,” the sage answered.

“No, five,” Avner replied, and with erudition, he proceeded to prove the correctness of his assertion.

“If your knowledge is so great,” the Ramban asked, “why did you abandon the Torah?”

“It's your fault!,” Avner replied.

“What did I do?”

“Once at a public shiur, you stated that everything that will ever transpire in all of History is alluded in the Song Haazinu. I considered that a most preposterous statement and decided that I want no part of a religion whose teachers would utter such absurdities.”

“What I said is absolutely true,” replied the Ramban.

“Prove it to me,” responded Avner. “Show me where my name is alluded to in Haazinu. ”

The Ramban retreated to a corner to daven, and after a moment he answered: “It is written: אמרתי אפאיהם אשביתה מאנוש זכרם (Haazinu 32:26), “I said: ‘I will scatter them; I will obliterate their memory from among mankind.’’ The third letters of each of the words of the verse spells out , Rav Avner.”

“What can I do to correct my error?” Avner asked in awe.

“Follow the directive of the verse,” the Ramban replied.

Indeed, the Ramban on his commentary to this Pasuk explains:

אשביתה מאנוש זכרם – גלותנו בין העמים – To be exiled amongst the nations of the world.

Shortly afterwards, a black-masted ship set off from a Spanish harbor to a destination unknown.

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The Gemara in Rosh Hashana (30b) tells us that the aliyos of Parshas Ha'azinu are quite specific. In fact, Ha'azinu is the only Parsha in Chumash whose Aliyos are listed in the Talmud.

במוספי דשבתא מה היו אומרים אמר רב ענן בר רבא אמר רב הזי”ו ל”ך

Rav Anan bar Rava said that Rav said: They would recite in accordance with the mnemonic hei, zayin, yod, vav, lamed, kaf. They would divide the song of Ha’azinu into six sections, each of which began with a letter of the mnemonic: “Give ear [ha’azinu], you heavens” (Deuteronomy 32:1); “Remember [zekhor] the days of old” (Deuteronomy 32:7); “He made him ride [yarkivehu] on the high places of the earth” (Deuteronomy 32:13); “The Lord saw it [vayar] and spurned” (Deuteronomy 32:19); “Were it not [lulei] that I dread the enemy’s provocation” (Deuteronomy 32:27); “For [ki] the Lord will judge His people” (Deuteronomy 32:36).

But what is the story of Ha'azinu? What is this prophetic poem of Moshe Rabbeinu about?

Rav Saadya Gaon (אמונות ודעות מאמר ז א) explains:

The song of Ha'azinu is the story of the Jewish people. In the beginning, Hashem chose us (זכור ימות עולם – Remember the days of old...). Second, He looked after us in the desert (ימצאהו בארץ מדבר – He found him in a desert...) Third, we rebelled (וישמן ישרון ויבעט – Yeshrun grew fat and kicked). Fourth, Hashem punished us (וירא ה' וינאץ – Hashem saw and was angry). Fifth, Hashem punished our enemies (כי מגפן סדום גפנם – The vine for them is from Sodom). Sixth, we will be redeemed (ראו עתה כי אני אני הוא – See that I am Hashem...). And just like a body that is healed from sickness is still the same body, so too, the body that dies will be the body that arrises at the time of resurrection.

The Ramban writes (לב:מ):

והנה אין בשירה הזאת תנאי בתשובה ועבודה, רק היא שטר עדות שנעשה הרעות ונוכל, ושהוא יתברך יעשה בנו בתוכחות חימה אבל לא ישבית זכרנו, וישוב ויתנחם ויפרע מן האויבים בחרבו הקשה והגדולה והחזקה, ויכפר על חטאתינו למען שמו. אם כן השירה הזאת הבטחה מבוארת בגאולה העתידה על כרחן של מינין.

There are no conditions in this song. It is a promissory note that we will do evil and be consumed. And that He will punish us, but never destroy us. And He will exact justice on our enemies... and forgive our sins. And thus this song is a promise that redemption will come, despite the protests of the heretics. (Referencing his debates with the Christians who claimed that we would never again be redeemed.)

The first six Aliyos of Ha'azinu are the story the 6000 years of our era. But there is something strange about this song, in that it is written with an empty space in between. Like two towers of pesukim, leaving a vast gap in the middle. That gap is our capacity to live in the middle of the song of Jewish History and feel nothing, see nothing, live as if nothing is happening around us. It's the world of “I guess so... I suppose I could...” It's the world of cold, uncommitted Jewish life. It's the life a bystanders to the awesome saga of Jewish history.

The Avoda of this Shabbos is to find ourselves in the text as well, as the Divrei Yechezkel of Shinnov quotes from Reb Mendel of Rimanov:

כשהייתי אברך ורציתי לידע האיך אני עומד בדרך העבודה חפשתי בשירת האזינו בשורה הימנית מצות עשה ובשורה השמאלית מצוות ל”ת

When I was young, I wanted to know where I stand regarding my service of Hashem. So I searched in Haazinu on the right hand side to find the positive mitzvos I should work on, and on the left hand side to know the negative mitzvos I should work on.

The Sefer Pi Tzadik (עמ׳ קנ”ה) quotes from the Shinnover himself:

יודע אני באיזה מקום אנוכי מרומז בשירת האזינו – I know where I am in the song of Haazinu

Personally, I am not zocheh to know where I am mentioned in this great song of Moshe. But I think we know we are... I think it's clear that we’re somewhere near the very end.

But that's where Jewish history as a whole is holding. The credits will soon be rolling up on the screen.

But on Shabbos Shuva, the question that Ha'azinu asks is far more personal. This Shabbos, the Torah is asking each of us if we tethered to the text and the story, or just floating idly and inconsequentially in the middle?

Hashem should help each of us, our families and communities to Exit Ha'azinu Valley. The Teshuva of this Shabbos is to reengage in our place in Jewish history and anchor ourselves to the future of our people.