Rabbi Rael Blumenthal

Last week as Shabbos ended, I mentioned to some of the Chevra in shul that I wasn’t going to be at minyan on Sunday morning. Instead, four of us were going to be davening on the other side of the Palm Beach Half Marathon finish line.

One of the guys turned to me with a mixture of frustration and defeat. “I guess running a half marathon is easy for you these days.” He was not entirely wrong, but far from correct.

The truth is that six years of running has made it possible for me to sign up for a race without the anxiety and trepidation that gripped me a few years back. But all measures, I am a better runner than I was when I started. But it doesn’t make the activity any easier for me or anyone else.

It’s a golden rule that I once learned from a coach: It never gets easier. You get better. When the fastest runners in the world run at their maximum effort, it will always feel like their maximum effort; it will never feel any easier.

This reality is not confined to exercise. It’s the deep truth of any human endeavor, from parenting and relationships, to building careers and learning skills.

Once, during my second year in Kerem B’Yavneh, I approached Rav Moshe Stav, and told him I wasn’t feeling up to learning that day. I was tired, unmotivated and thought maybe I needed a little time off. Rav Stav looked at me, empathized with the feeling; and then explained: “Sometimes, when I come to afternoon seder, I feel the same need to run from the Beis Medrash as I did when I was a teenager. It’s the same pull, the same lack of motivation. The only difference now, is that I can overcome it much quicker than when I was a Bachur. The challenge never disappears.”

But there is a dark side to our progress in life. The law of diminishing returns dictates that as time goes on, our maximum effort will yield smaller and smaller noticeable results. Sometimes, in some areas, we become content with our competence. We’re satisfied with our capacity, and no longer find ourselves pushing towards our maximum effort.

It’s at this point of satisfaction that we stop growing; “good enough” becomes the enemy of “great”.

Reading through Sefer Bereishis, we feel the pull towards the plateau of complacent tranquillity. Yaakov and his family have finally returned to Eretz Yisrael. The nascent Jewish nation has survived Yishmael, Lavan and Esav. From poverty and loneliness, Yaakov is returning home with a children, wealth and prominence, he is finally ready to settle.

Rashi (לז:א), quoting the Medrash, informs us that settling is never an option:

בִּקֵּשׁ יַעֲקֹב לֵישֵׁב בְּשַׁלְוָה, קָפַץ עָלָיו רָגְזוֹ שֶׁל יוֹסֵף – צַדִּיקִים מְבַקְּשִׁים לֵישֵׁב בְּשַׁלְוָה, אָמַר הַקָּבָּ”ה לֹא דַיָּן לַצַּדִּיקִים מַה שֶּׁמְּתֻקָּן לָהֶם לָעוֹלָם הַבָּא, אֶלָּא שֶׁמְּבַקְּשִׁים לֵישֵׁב בְּשַׁלְוָה בָּעוֹלָם הַזֶּה

Yaakov wished to live at ease, but this trouble in connection with Yosef suddenly came upon him. When the righteous wish to live at ease, Hashem says to them: “Are not the righteous satisfied with what is stored up for them in the world to come that they wish to live at ease in this world too!”

The depth of Rashi’s message here extends far beyond Yaakov’s circumstances. Our sages are teaching us that having a children is not the same as raising children.

Yes, of course Yaakov has much to be proud of. He had surpassed the familial achievements of his father Yitchak and grandfather Avraham. He is the very first father in all of Sefer Bereishis to create a family that will abandon idolatry. For the first time in human history, there is hope for a grassroots movement of spreading ethical monotheism. But the goal was never to simply “be Jewish”. There is always more to achieve, greater heights to ascend, and more to accomplish at the points of our maximum effort.

For Yaakov, as for us, there is always much more work to be done. It doesn’t get easier, we just get better at it.

“Rebbe, Why would Hashem do that?! Why would he send angel to attack Yaakov? Don’t angels work for Hashem?”

It was a great question; but we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Let’s review for a minute.

Yaakov is left alone, separated from him family. And in the trepidation and anticipation of his inevitable meeting with Esav, he is attacked by some mysterious assailant. We know nothing about the identity or motive of this attacker, only that he is trying to defeat Yaakov.

But Rashi, quoting from the Medrash Rabba explains:

וּפֵרְשׁוּ רַזִ”לִ שֶׁהוּא שָׂרוֹ שֶׁל עֵשָׂו – Our Rabbis of blessed memory explained that he was Esau's guardian angel (Genesis Rabbah .77:3)

But this begs the question why is the guardian angel of Esav attacking him? Moreover, whilst a human being has the freedom to choose their own path and actions, surely an angel does not have the capacity to attack Yaakov without Hashem’s command?

To this end, the Pirkei D’Rebbi Eliezer (פרק לז) makes the following astounding suggestion – indeed it is the only logical conclusion: Hashem sent this angel to attack Yaakov. But why?

It was a direct response to Yaakov’s Tefillah: הַצִּילֵנִי נָא מִיַּד אָחִי מִיַּד עֵשָׂו כִּי־יָרֵא אָנֹכִי אֹתוֹ – Save me from the hand of my brother, from the hand of Esav, for I am afraid of him. Hashem could certainly save Yaakov from the hands of Esav, but that salvation would not cure Yaakov of him fear. To that end, Hashem sends an angel:

מָה עָשָׂה הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא? שָׁלַח לוֹ מַלְאָךְ לְהוֹשִׁיעוֹ, לְהַצִּילוֹ מִיַּד עֵשָׂו, וְנִרְאָה לוֹ כְּאִישׁ, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר: ״וַיֵּאָבֵק אִישׁ עִמּוֹ עַד עֲלוֹת הַשָּׁחַר״.

What did the Holy One, blessed be He, do? He sent an angel to him to deliver him, and to save him from the hand of Esau; and he appeared unto him like a man, as it is said, “And there wrestled a man with him until the breaking of the day.”

The goal of the angelic encounter was to prepare Yaakov psychologically for the meeting with his brother the next day. Somehow, in this nighttime battle, Yaakov gains the strength to overcome his fear of Esav.

To understand this, we must consider that this is not the first night that Yaakov had seen this particular Malach. He had seen him once before, although last time, the Malach was still ascending the ladder to Shamayaim, as the Medrash (פרקי דרבי אליעזר ל״ה) explains:

וְהֶרְאָהוּ הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא אַרְבַּע מַלְכֻיּוֹת מוֹשְׁלָן וְאוֹבְדָן, וְהֶרְאָהוּ שַׂר מַלְכוּת בָּבֶל עוֹלֶה שִׁבְעִים עוּקִים וְיוֹרֵד, וְהֶרְאָהוּ שַׂר מַלְכוּת מָדַי עוֹלֶה חֲמִשִּׁים וּשְׁנַיִם עוּקִים וְיוֹרֵד. וְהֶרְאָהוּ שַׂר מַלְכוּת יָוָן עוֹלֶה מֵאָה וּשְׁמוֹנִים עוּקִים וְיוֹרֵד. וְהֶרְאָהוּ שַׂר מַלְכוּת אֱדוֹם עוֹלֶה וְאֵינוֹ יוֹרֵד וְאוֹמֵר: ״אֶעֱלֶה עַל בָּמֳתֵי עָב אֶדַּמֶּה לְעֶלְיוֹן״.

Hashem showed him the four kingdoms, their rule and their destruction, and He showed him the prince of the kingdom of Babylon ascending [seventy rungs, and descending; and He showed him the prince of the kingdom of] Persia ascending fifty-two rungs and descending; [and He showed him the prince of the kingdom of Greece ascending 180 ascents and descending;] and He showed him the prince of the kingdom of Edom ascending, and he was not descending, but was saying, “I will ascend above the heights of the clouds; I will be like the Most High” (Isa. 14:14).

More than two decades had passed since Yaakov’s dream of that ladder; and in all that time, in the heart and mind of Yaakov Avinu, the Malach of Esav/Edom was still ascending the ladder. Until the night when they met, face-to-face. At that moment, Yaakov understands that he no longer needs to fear his brother. The angel of Esav is not pulling strings in Shamayim. He is down here. Formidable, but ultimately conquerable.

It is clear that these events, as Yaakov is leaving his exile and returning to Eretz Yisrael, is the map for our generation.

As Klal Yisrael slowly makes it’s way back to the Land of our Ancestors, we are faced with two types of enemies. One which is physically powerful; the threatening, menacing army of Esav and his four hundred men.

But there is another type of enemy, a far more subversive and challenging foe to subdue; the angel of Esav. This enemy lives in our hearts and minds. He attacks us at night; he comes for us when we are tired and alone. He tells us “Look at me! I’m at the top of the ladder.”

Between these Midrashim, our sages are revealing a deep secret. Both nationally as well as personally, when we feel insecure and inadequate to the tasks ahead of us, when we are afraid to take the next steps in our growth, when we reach out to Hashem in fear, Hashem’s answer is not always as we expect.

To cure us of our fear, Hashem sends us mysterious spiritual assailants for us to conquer. And in those victories, we establish for ourselves that we more capable than we ever imagined before.

In the past year we have merited to see how the armies of Hamas, Hezbollah, Syria and Iran have all been defeated. In the deepest way, we have learned that our enemies are more frightening than they are powerful. When we conquer our fear, we conquer our enemies themselves.

The same is true for our personal challenges as well. Hashem should help us to overcome the fears that holding us back, that we too should overcome the adversaries that stand in our way.

I got a call this week from a wonderful friend who is struggling with a crisis of irrelevance. As he explained it:

We’re in a strange point in the year. The Chagim are behind us, Chanukah is still a few weeks away. And the war is still raging. The world is changing at such a rapid pace, it’s hard to keep up with the news, let alone have time to think about it.

And amidst all of this, we are trying to live meaningful, productive, elevated lives. We’re trying to make a difference in our own lives, in our families and in our community. But personal progress is slow, and sometimes it feels like there is nothing we can actually do.

For all our talk about “every little bit counts”, it doesn’t always feel that way. Our struggles and challenges seem petty in the grand scheme of things. And our inability to make progress even in these areas makes us feel even less relevant.

This crisis of irrelevance is not unique to my friend. We’ve all felt it at some point; perhaps more often and more acutely since the start of the war. The question, then, is what to do about it?

Even for the greatest of people, there are moments of doubt, weakness and despair. Of course, in the stories of our heroes, these moments are the fuel that propels them to greatness; the gauntlet through which they must pass on the way to becoming who they need to be.

But, then again, stories are seldom told about the people who faded into obscurity. For those who fizzle into irrelevance, there are no books that are written, no films produced. It’s simply not a good story if there is no movement beyond the crisis.

The problem, however, is that we don’t ever know what lies beyond this particular challenge. If I succeed here, will this success final grant me the meaning I am looking for? Or perhaps, this challenge is simply a distraction. Maybe I’m crawling down the wrong rabbit hole; and who’s to say that there isn’t just some other challenge ahead – and that’s when I’ll fail, or give up?

At the level of our deepest insecurities, we ask ourselves: Is the friction I’m feeling because I’m supposed to overcome this issue? Or is this friction an indication that I’m focusing on the wrong things completely?

We are plagued by questions, doubts and fears. Is this dream, this pursuit even reasonable? Should I be pouring all my efforts into it? We teeter precariously between childish naivety and existential regret.

And just beyond the horizon of these thoughts and doubts, lies the great temptation of distraction. Of all the vices that pull at us, none are as powerful today as the infinity pools of distraction. All too often, when our minds consider the uncomfortable questions that really matter, we resolve them by turning our attention elsewhere. The news, the weather, politics, stocks – all of which are quick and excusable enough, but somehow they drag us into reels, and shorts, and scrolling for hours.

Ultimately, none of this is helpful. None of it is fulfilling. None of it gives us any clarity.

What we need then, is a better strategy; a road map for the moments of doubt and confusion. And that is precisely what Yaakov Avinu offers us in the moment of his greatest crisis of irrelevance.

A short recap: Yaakov has spent his life engrossed in the study of Torah, living with and learning from his grandfather Avraham and his father Yitzchak. As a young man, he had successfully purchased the birthright from his brother Esav; knowing that the he alone was destined to lead the next generation. With his mother’s instruction, he has impersonated Esav, deluded Yitzchak into blessing him.

But now the crisis arrives. Rather than continuing his steady rise to greatness, Yaakov finds himself on the run; alone, penniless and exhausted.

I can imagine the spiraling thoughts he might’ve entertained. How did I get here? This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be... Maybe I should’ve had the courage to tell my father that I bought the birthright years ago. Maybe I should’ve denied my mother’s instructions. Am I really ready to become the next of the Avos? Avraham rediscovered monotheism, Yitzchak was willingly bound to the alter, ready to die for Hashem. And me? I’ve enjoyed a life of serenity and privilege. I’m nothing like the giants who came before me. And now, I’m fleeing from my brother, running from the Land that Hashem promised my family. Have I even achieved anything? Is any of this worthwhile?

The Beis Aharon of Karlin (ד”ה וילן שם) offers an insight as to how Yaakov dealt with these concerns; and indeed, a rare window into his own struggles:

The pasuk tells us that Yaakov lay down on that lonely mountain top – וילן שם. He lay down in defeat;

For sometimes a person feels as if the task is too difficult, and that they are getting no enjoyment from continuing; to the point that doing anything is painful. And then they are seized with disappointment, upset with themselves. In these moments, it’s easy to become depressed.

When I feel this way, I remind myself that there have been other times when I have felt incredible. Indeed, when I feel amazing, I also remind myself that there have been times when I feel discouraged and defeated.

And this is what Yaakov does: ויקח מאבני המקום – He took the stones of that place, the heaviness, the cold and hard reality of his situation; וישם מראשותיו. He placed it by his head. He thought about the cycles of ups and downs, and reminded himself that these feelings would soon pass.

The brilliance of this insight is in recognizing how the feelings we have about our challenges are a fundamentally inaccurate gauge of the correctness of our path. Feelings come and go, they change and fade.

Ultimately, the crisis of irrelevance is simply another Yetzer Hara that needs to be conquered. And if we do as Yaakov did, perhaps we too will merit to see that great ladder that extends from where we are now all the way up to Shamayim.

Yitzchak has two sons: Yaakov and Esav. And the Torah is not shy in telling us that Yitzchak had a favorite – Esav!

This has bothered parsha teaches throughout the generations, and I remember the first time I learned this story as a child.

“How could you have even thought of choosing Esav?” Esav, whose decedents were later to destroy the Beis Hakidash, exile the Jewish people, and bring about the Crusades, the Inquisition and shed the blood of millions. Yizchak Avinu, what were you thinking?

And we are left with two choices: Perhaps we are to write off the entire episode as a lapse in judgement of a blind old man; that perhaps was swayed by Esav’s smooth words and flattering respect.

Alternatively, we need to try in some way to understand that indeed, Esav was the one who Yitzchak always intended to bless. Indeed, the Sforno (25:28) comments on the passuk: “And Yitzchak loved Esav”:

גם את עשו אע”פ שידע בלי ספק שלא היה שלם כיעקב

He loved also Esav, not only Yaakov, even though he must have been aware that Esav was far less perfect than Yaakov.

To understand this enigmatic decision, we need to reconsider the twins that are Yaakov and Esav. Yaakov is the mild mannered Yeshiva bochur. Sweet, uncomplicated, courteous and studious. Esav, on the other hand is an entrepreneur, street smart, enterprising, savvy and shrewd, if a little rough around the edges.

Now you need to make a decision, who should be the leader of the Jewish nation? Who will be able to bring the legacy of Avraham to fruition. Who will be able to take the reins and father a Jewish nation? In this light things become clearer. Esav is the natural leader, he is engaged in the world, and in his very nature, a king.

When the Torah (36:31) lists the kings of Edom/Esav, it tells us:

וְאֵלֶּה הַמְּלָכִים אֲשֶׁר מָלְכוּ בְּאֶרֶץ אֱדוֹם לִפְנֵי מְלָךְ־מֶלֶךְ לִבְנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל

These are the kings who reigned in the land of Edom before any king reigned over the Israelites.

Long before the Jewish people developed kingship, Esav was ruling, leading and commanding.

But Esav is missing a serious piece. He has talent and drive, but no purpose. He has ambition, but he is deficient in moral fibre. It is Yitzchak’s dream that Esav will learn to channel his wit and desire to the vision of Avraham and Yizchak. Esav has the Yadayim – the capacity and ability. Yaakov has the Kol, the voice of reason and transcendence.

Towards the end of Yitzchak’s life, when a son presents himself in front of his father, bearing both the Kol of Yaakov and the Yadayim of Esav, Yitzchak, finally at peace, can bestow the bracha, the legacy of the Jewish people.

Ultimately the Bracha of Avraham and Yitzchak is given to neither son, but rather to the one who possesses both the drive and the vision of a Godly world. The Kol of Yaakov as well as the Yadayim of Esav.

The goal is integration. The ability to hold both values in their entirety, and this is the challenge of our generation, the challenge of the Modern State of Israel, and this moment in Jewish History.

But for us, in our lives, how do we live with Kedusha while immersed in the Modern World without compromising on either? Or perhaps we could ask, how did Yaakov Avinu transform himself from an introverted yeshiva bachur to the next of the Avos?

To answer this, we should turn to the bracha that Yitzchak gives Yaakov; or rather this man who personifies both voice and action.

The bracha begins:

וְיִתֶּן־לְךָ הָאֱלֹקים מִטַּל הַשָּׁמַיִם וּמִשְׁמַנֵּי הָאָרֶץ May God give you of the dew of heaven and the fat of the earth...

Strangely, this is quite similar to the Bracha that Yitzchak finally agrees to give Esav:

הִנֵּה מִשְׁמַנֵּי הָאָרֶץ יִהְיֶה מוֹשָׁבֶךָ וּמִטַּל הַשָּׁמַיִם מֵעָל See, your abode shall enjoy the fat of the earth, And the dew of heaven above

But there is a subtlety to note, the thing that’s missing from the bracha of Esav is “Elokim”.

The Sfas Emes (תולדות תרנ”ה) explains that the bracha of וְיִתֶּן לְךָ הָאֱלהִים means that Hashem will give you himself.

הגם כי הפסוק מסיים מטל השמים ומשמני הארץ. אך הכוונה שצריך איש ישראל לקבל אלקותו ית”ש מכל נמצא שבעולם

The intention of the Pasuk is to instruct that a Jew should find Godiness in everything in the world.

Inherent in the land, the rain and the dew will be opportunities for Godliness and connection. It’s the desire that our hands and voice make a complete person, not two sides of a broken one.

So here is Yaakov’s mission – peel back the layers of the world and recognize the opportunities for Godliness. A beautiful home is an opportunity for hospitality. Shalom Bayis and healthy children are an invitation for generosity, chinuch and growth in our middos. Free time is for far more than relaxation – it should be filled with learning, volunteering, building, growing and doing.

The challenge of being and becoming the Jewish nation ultimately comes down to one question: If Hashem gives us everything we want and need, what will we do with it?

May He give us the courage to use it for Him.

Living through these historic times, I’ve found myself responding to questions about Mashiach on a regular basis. This week, some of my students wondered what exactly we would all be doing with our lives when Mashiach comes.

It’s a good question, and one that is challenging to answer, since there are a plethora of opinions in Chazal as to when and how Geulah will occur. And the Rambam tells us, we won’t know exactly how it all happens until it happens.

But, notwithstanding, everyone seems to agree that at some point in the future, we will live in some kind of utopian society, without the necessities of going to college, getting a job and building a career.

It all sounded wonderful to a group of high school students, until the moment they realized that life would be pretty boring... “But Rebbe, what are we going to do all day?”

Addressing this question sheds light on two truths that we don’t often like to think about.

Firstly, it’s a tentative admission that most of our academic and career pursuits are little more than complicated ways to ensure we have financial security. In a world where that was somehow taken for granted – for everyone – we might struggle to find inherent meaning in those endeavors.

Secondly, even if we did find meaning in such a life, is that the best way to find meaning and purpose? Or perhaps there are better ways available.

Before suggesting an approach to this question, let’s take a detour to our Parsha:

With the death of Sarah, Avraham knows that his and her legacy must continue beyond their lifetime. Avraham slowly, tragically comes to terms with his own mortality. And the reality that the task of bringing the entirety of humanity to a recognition of Hashem is bigger than one lifetime.

And so his goal, and the goal of every Jewish parent since, is to perpetuate this truth by cheating death – by having children.

For Avraham, the stakes are incredibly high. If Yitzchak fails, then the world fails. In no uncertain terms, humanity depends on Yitzchak finding a Shidduch that will partner with him in this mission.

And so the Torah describes how Eliezer, the faithful servant of Avraham journeys to find a wife for Yitzchak. He travels to Avraham’s homeland to find this bashert. Arriving at the well, Eliezer devises a test, and asks from Hashem:

The girl who I will ask to give me water and she offers water for myself and for my camels will be the girl for Yitzchak.

Indeed, Rivka presents herself as such a girl; giving water to the camels and Eliezer.

Rashi (כ”ד:י”ז) famously quotes the Medrash:

וירץ העבד לקראתה – לפי שראה שעלו המים לקראתה - He ran towards her because he saw that the waters rose in the well when she approached it (Bereishis Rabbah 60:5).

Wow! Eliezer must have been duly impressed. She must be an incredibly special person – the water rose miraculously to meet her!

The Divrei Yisrael of Mozhitz challenges this story: If Eliezer saw that she was such a tzadekes, such a בעלת מופת – a miracle worker – why did he need to go through with his test?! Right then and there he should have known that Rivka was the right shidduch for Yitzchak!

He explains: There is a world of difference between being a בעל מופת and a בעל מידות. Eliezer was not looking for a miracle. Miracles tell you how great Hashem is. Middos tell you how great a person is.

This insight is good advice for finding a soul mate and excellent advice for working on ourselves but it also raises some questions. What then was the point of the miracle? Moreover, it appears that this miracle did not continue for Rivka – it stopped short of being truly helpful to her that day.

The Ramban makes this point when questioning how (כ”ד:י”ז) Chazal knew that the water rose to meet Rivka. He notes that, at first, the pasuk omits the fact the she “drew water” for herself when arriving at the well, rather it tells us that “she filled her pitcher, and came up”. Later however, the Torah does tell us that she “drew water” for the camels of Eliezer. Thus, concludes the Ramban, Chazal understood that as she arrived at the well the water rose to meet her.

But this also clearly teaches us that Rivka’s miraculous water drawing stopped, leaving her to tend to camels of Eliezer herself, without Divine intervention.

This bothered the Kedushas Levi, leading to a piercing insight:

ולהכי בפעם ראשונה דבדעתה היה לשאוב המים לצורכה גלל כן עלו המים לקראתה שלא תטריח עצמה, כיון שכוונתה היה לשאוב לצרכה, מה שאין כן בפעם שניה שכוונתה היה לגמול חסד להשקות הגמלים של אליעזר עבד אברהם לא עלו המים לקראתה, שכשאדם עושה מצוה יותר נחשב לעשות פעולה שבעשותו פעולה לשם מצוה נחשב לו יותר למצוה והבן:

The first time when Rivkah filled the jug to satisfy her ‎own needs, the water rose to assist her as she was a righteous ‎person. The second time, when what she did was an act of ‎kindness to others, Hashem withheld His ‎assistance in order for her to expend greater effort. For the greater the act, the greater the mitzvah.

Now things might begins to make a little more sense. Chazal are educating us that the ideal life for a Jew is not devoid of hard work. Our best life is enjoyed in such a way where our personal needs are taken care of, so that our effort can be directed to more elevated tasks.

There are two ways to grow. Personal growth can come from overcoming personal challenges, but it can also come from spending our time, expertise and creative energy in performing Mitzvos, Talmud Torah, Tefillah and Chessed.

That’s the Geulah we’re aiming for, and I dare say that the way to prepare for it is to demonstrate to Hashem and to ourselves how we would prefer to grow. We are living in a generation of unprecedented opportunities to develop ourselves and our middos through creativity and altruism.

Choosing that path was the legacy of Rivka Imeinu. The one who was unafraid to spend her life working on her middos and helping others. It’s the great Tefillah asking Hashem “please take care of me, so that I can take care of Your world – that’s how I want to grow!” Eliezer saw that play out in front of him and knew that Rivka would carry the Jewish people into the future, since that middah is a taste of the world of Mashiach.

The first meeting between Lord Arthur Balfour and Dr Chaim Weizmann took place in 1906, three years after the Zionist leadership had turned down the offer of a Jewish homeland in Uganda. Their conversation lasted more than an hour.

Balfour could not understand why the persecuted Russian Jews refused the offer of a safe asylum in East Africa. Weizmann tried to explain why the Zionists could not accept a home anywhere but Jerusalem. “Suppose,” he said, “I were to offer you Paris instead of London.”

“But, Dr Weizmann, we have London,” Balfour replied. “That is true,” Weizmann said, “but we had Jerusalem when London was a marsh.”

“Are there many Jews who think like you?” wondered Balfour.

“I believe I speak the minds of millions of Jews,” replied Weizmann.

“It is curious,” Balfour remarked, “the Jews I meet are quite different.” “Mr Balfour,” said Weizmann, “you meet the wrong kind of Jews.”

That conversation contained within it, the seeds of the Balfour Declaration, which was signed a decade later on November 2nd, 1917. It was the first modern international document acknowledging the Jewish claim to Eretz Yisrael.

When news of the declaration spread to Poland, Rabbi Shmuel Borenstein, the Rebbe of Sochachov gathered a group of his wealthiest and most influential chassidim and related the following:

”Until now we had seen no sign that Hashem wants us to continue our efforts in the Land of Israel, to the contrary, we have been met with pitfalls at every step in these matters. Thus, we too, have not acted urgently to advance the state and wellbeing of the Yishuv in our Holy Homeland. But now it has come to pass that the promise קול דודי דופק (The sound of my beloved is knocking) is being fulfilled in our lives. Hashem has placed in the hearts of the sovereigns of the land to appropriate our Holy Land to us; indeed it is like some of the Rishonim who explain that just the second Beis HaMikdash was predicated upon the permission of Koresh, so too will the final redemption begin with the permission of the nations...

Thus there is a Holy obligation on us to wake up and prepare ourselves both in the physical and spiritual realms. The time has come to work towards the expansion of the Yishuv in Eretz Yisrael through Torah and Mitzvos.”

Following the Balfour Declaration, the Sochatchover Rebbe redoubled the efforts of his father, the Avnei Nezer to purchase land in Eretz Yisrael with the knowledge that despite the secular nature of Zionism, the time had come for Jews to return home.

But this excitement was shared by many but not all Jews.

There were many Jews, both observant and unobservant, who opposed the visions and values of Zionism for various religious, social and political reasons.

It’s clear that this opposition frustrated the Sochatchover Rebbe.

In his Sefer, Shem Mishmuel, on Parshas VaYera 1920, the Rebbe raises the following question:

In our parsha the Torah relates to us the story of Lot, a resident of Sodom, and the nephew of Avraham. Due to his relationship with Avraham, angels arrive at his door to warn him of the impending destruction of his city.

As the angels arrive, Lot's house is besieged with angry neighbors demanding: אַיֵּה הָאֲנָשִׁים אֲשֶׁר־בָּאוּ אֵלֶיךָ הַלָּיְלָה – Where are the men that came you this night?!

A fight ensues between Lot and the other residents of Sodom. As tensions rose, the Angels inside the house dragged their host back in doors and bolted the door.

The Torah then describes the fate of the mob outside: הִכּוּ בַּסַּנְוֵרִים מִקָּטֹן וְעַד־גָּדוֹל וַיִּלְאוּ לִמְצֹא הַפָּתַח – They struck with blindness, so that they were helpless to find the entrance.

With the people outside stricken with blindness, Lot takes the opportunity to tell his relatives that Hashem is about to destroy the city and that they too should flee, but the response he gets is less than enthusiastic: וַיְהִי כִמְצַחֵק בְּעֵינֵי חֲתָנָיו – It seemed like a joke to his sons-in-law.

This reaction is surprising and perplexing: Surely these sons-in-law could see the mob of people miraculously stricken with blindness? Could they not see how the violent rioters clamoring towards the door were suddenly robbed of their sight!?

If there was ever a sign that something serious and important was happening, miraculous blindness should fit the bill.

The Shem Mishmuel (וירא תר”פ) answers: > ונראה שגם זה הי' ממכת הסנורים, כמו שבגשמיות נלאו למצוא הפתח והיו רואין ולא רואין כן נמי בפנימיות הענין היו רואין את הפלא ולא היו יכולין לשים אליו לב.

It appears that this inability to understand the enormity of the situation was part of the curse of blindness. The physical aspect of blindness meant that they were unable to find the door – they were seeing and not seeing. Likewise the blindness effected them internally. People could see the miracle in front of their eyes, but could not take it heart.

He continues to warn us: In these times we need to be wary not to be afflicted with the blindness of רואין ולא רואין – seeing, but not really seeing. As the world is changing, and Hashem's hand is so clearly directing every aspect of the world, we cannot allow ourselves not to see.

Over a century has passed since the Shem Mishmuel wrote his warning; and in the past year, I have often wondered what part of Hashem’s message we’re still missing.

We have witnessed His Hand directing our lives in tragedy and triumph, and yet the war is not over. The hostages are not home. Mothers are still burying their sons who have fallen in Gaza and Lebanon.

But perhaps there is an even deeper blindness; one which have failed to notice, much less conquer.

Why were Lot’s sons-in-law laughing? What exactly did they think was a joke? Perhaps they could see indeed see clearly that Hashem was acting miraculously. Maybe they understood that Sodom was minutes away from annihilation. In that moment, they had resigned themselves to the fate awaiting them. They could not imagine that they had any chance to be saved.

That’s the blindness.

A friend of mine asked me this week how Mashiach will come to our fractured generation. Is unity not a prerequisite for redemption? We’ll probably have to wait for a future time...

Rav Kook was asked a similar question about the irreligious founders of the Kibbutzim: On what merit will these Jews build the Land of Israel?! Rav Kook responded: It will be in the merit of their actual work in building.

All too often we are blind to the truth that we can do something in our hearts and homes and heads. That the work we do is meaningful; that our actions are changing the calculus of the universe. We don’t need to know how it all adds up; only that it all adds up.

Sometimes the blindness is thinking that we still need to wait for history to unfold. Sometimes we cannot see that Hashem has already sent angels to pull us towards Geulah.

Sometimes, the only thing left to do is pack up and leave Sodom.

Hashem should help us that when the Angels come, we should be ready to go.

This week, whilst all eyes in the US have been fixed on the election, our brothers and sisters in Israel have not been so fortunate. The persistence of rockets, sirens and daily attacks makes it hard to be fully distracted by the endless news cycles, zingers and tweets.

Beneath the challenges of daily life in Israel, however, there is a conflict which is threatening, once again, to engulf the State in painful divisiveness. The issue at hand is exempting Yeshiva students from serving in the IDF.

Over a year into the war, with hostages still held captive in Gaza, Israel has learned that the idea of a “small smart military” is not enough. Tzahal needs soldiers.

With each soldier who has fallen, some of the them fathers of young children, the pressure is mounting on the many young men in Yeshivos who are learning Torah around the country.

I have no doubt that you have an opinion on this matter.

Perhaps you believe that every (or almost every) yeshiva student should be mandated to serve.

Perhaps you believe that it is only in the merit of the Yeshivos that the State of Israel continues to survive and thrive against all odds and enemies.

Whichever side of this debate you find yourself, there is most likely one thing that everyone agrees to: Young men who are not learning seriously in Yeshiva, should definitely serve in Tzahal. There is simply no defense we could offer to exempt a student who spends his time hanging around outside the Beis Medrash.

This clear and obvious conclusion, however, turns out to be more complicated than we might imagine at first gloss. Indeed, it becomes exceedingly challenging for us here in Chutz La’aretz.

Leaving aside Israeli Law for a moment, we should ask according to Halacha: Who is obligated to serve in the defense of the State of Israel? The answer to that question is simple. Every Jew; whoever, however and wherever we can.

The Rambam (הלכות שבת ב׳:כג) codifies this Halacha in the context of Hilchos Shabbos, addressing the issue of who should break Shabbos to stop a militant invasion:

וּמִצְוָה עַל כָּל יִשְׂרָאֵל שֶׁיְּכוֹלִין לָבוֹא וְלָצֵאת וְלַעֲזֹר לְאַחֵיהֶם שֶׁבַּמָּצוֹר וּלְהַצִּילָם מִיַּד הָעוֹבְדֵי כּוֹכָבִים וּמַזָּלוֹת בְּשַׁבָּת.

The mitzvah applies to every member of the Jewish people who can come [to their assistance] to go out and aid their brethren who are under siege and save them from the gentiles even if will violate the Sabbath.

Are Yeshiva students exempt from this? That’s at the center of the debate. But without doubt, we who live outside of Israel are not exempt.

All this is to say, that if you and me are not getting on a plane and offering our services to State of Israel and the IDF, we are also employing some kind of argument to exempt ourselves from this mitzvah.

Perhaps we feel that it is impossible to pack up and leave our families for an indefinite amount of time? But is that not exactly what we expect of the fathers who have spent months in Gaza and Lebanon? Why should their wives spend a year as single mothers, juggling their kids, expenses and careers?

Are the college courses and academic pursuits of Israeli soldiers less important than those in the US?

Perhaps we feel we are untrained. But is that really true? Is there nothing we can offer? So many wonderful members of our community have spend weeks and months packing bags or making BBQ’s. That’s also serving, and that mitzvah ends when the war ends.

As halachically observant Jews, we need to acknowledge that we share the obligation of Israel's defense with our brothers and sisters in Israel.

I suspect, however, that somewhere in our minds, consciously or unconsciously, we have already reached some kind of resolution, and goes something like this: “Our job is not to fight on the front lines. We are here to raise money and rally for political support. And when we are not actively engaged in these pursuits, the role of Diaspora Jews is to pray; to learn and to do mitzvos in the merit of our brave soldiers.”

This certainly has both merit and precedent. After all, in every army in history there have active soldiers as well as support staff.

Indeed, Rashi in our Parsha (יד:כד) tells us that when Avahram fought against the four kings, he left his friend Aner along with some others to watch and maintain their supplies.

So vital was this role, that Avraham insisted that they receive the same reward as the fighters. Rashi then writes that David HaMelech continued this practice with his army; dividing the spoils equally amongst the fighters and supporters.

But the Yid HaKadosh of Peshischa questions the fairness of this arrangement. Surely we should give more to the people risking their lives? No, he explains; those who are not actively fighting are not simply sitting around, taking it easy. At every free moment, they are the ones engaged in Torah, Tefillah and Chesed on behalf of Klal Yisrael; filling the gaps that have been left by the men on the front lines. They form a partnership with the Chayalim, giving them all that they need to win – both physically and spiritually.

I think that’s how we see ourselves. We’re not the fighters; we are the ones fulfilling our duty through support; Torah, Tefillah and Chesed.

In other words, in the US, we’re all Charedim.

And if this is true, then at the very least, we should be good Charedim; taking our learning and davening seriously. We should not be wasting time, hanging out, or schmoozing like bums outside the Beis Medrash. Klal Yisrael needs us, and this, it seems, is our chosen role.

My tefillah here is that perhaps, this year, if we work on being good Charedim, Hashem will help us to become good Zionists as well. After all, this is when The Journey begins: לֶךְ־לְךָ מֵאַרְצְךָ וּמִמּוֹלַדְתְּךָ וּמִבֵּית אָבִיךָ אֶל־הָאָרֶץ אֲשֶׁר אַרְאֶךָּ.

Rav Menachem Mendel of Lisk, the father of Rav Naftali Tzvi of Ropshitz, was a paradigm of the mitzvah of Hachnosas Orchim. This was true all year, but especially on Sukkos, when we welcome the Ushpizin. The Zohar Hakadosh speaks strongly about the obligation to welcome human guests into one’s Sukkah in addition to our saintly spiritual guests.

When he arrived home one Sukkos night, he was dismayed to find that there were no guests who had been invited. And so he refused to begin the meal until he found guests to eat with him But his young son was hungry, and anxious to begin. When he saw that his father would not make Kiddush until a guest was found, he decided to take matters in his own hands.

The boy took an old bekesha and an old shtreimel that had been his father’s. He went out to the street and found a non-Jewish man and told him that if he put on this disguise, he would be given a really good meal. Of course, the non-Jew agreed, and the boy proudly brought the guest that he had found to the Sukkah.

When the Lisker Rebbe saw the guest, he was overjoyed. He went to say Kiddush, unaware the guest was a gentile from the street.

In the middle of the seudah, however, he realized that his son had fooled him. He asked the boy, “Naftali, what’s this? Why did you bring a goy into my Sukkah?”

The Ropshitzer Rebbe answered, “Tatteh, tonight is the Ushpizin of Avrohom Avinu. Tell me Tatteh, what type of guests did Avrohom Avinu have? Did he not also have non-Jews in his home? How could it bother you that a goy is sitting at your table with a shtreimel?”

If we zoom out from the war for just a moment, it’s important to remember that there’s a dream that we are fighting for. A dream that we will inspire all of humanity.

That's the tefillah of Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur – that the whole world will recognize that Hashem is King. We are yearning for a day that the Beis HaMikdash will be a place of tefillah for all people.

But engaging with the rest of the world is so complicated, so fraught, and we're rightfully cautious about our involvements and interactions. We're worried about anti-semitism, and the influence of outside cultures. We know of the dangers to the chinuch of our children and our personal safety.

But beyond all the pragmatic concerns, there is a deeper issue: That we’re simply not confident enough in the righteousness of our lifestyle. We're not comfortable in our own skin.

Addressing this fear, the Sifsei Chaim on Chumash notes that Sukkos is the opposite of Pesach. On the night we left Egypt, we were instructed to stay confined inside. Indeed, for all generations, the Korban Pesach must be eaten indoors, in one place.

But on Succos, we are obligated to leave. We sit outside, exposed to the elements, with the confidence that Hashem has our backs. Cleaned from the faults and failures that have held us back, we venture boldly into a the world to represent Hashem and His Torah.

More than any other time of the year, Sukkos is the festival of bitachon; the knowledge that eventually we will win.

May we merit to see it soon.

Approaching Yom Kippur during any regular year is daunting. But the emotional whiplash of the past few months makes this year particularly confusing.

In the past few days alone, we have oscillated between national triumph and tragedy half a dozen times; constantly switching gears from Purim to Tisha B’av. And playing in the background of this relentless emotional rollercoaster is constant concern for our loved ones in Israel and our heroic chayalim on the battlefield. We have spend almost a year filling our shuls with desperate tefillos for the safe return of the hostages and strength for their families... And of course, immense gratitude to Hashem for guiding the hands of Tzahal to eliminate those who have sworn to destroy us... Not to mention the devastating effects of Hurricane Milton right here in Florida.

If we’re honest, it’s all a bit too much to bear.

The question arose in one of my classes this week. “Rebbe, are we supposed to be asking Hashem for forgiveness, praying for the things we want for ourselves and our families, or should our focus be all about Israel?” A few minutes of conversation later, and one student probed further: “Are we selfish if we daven for our own needs this year?”

For the first time in recent memory, it seems that Yom Kippur is simply not long enough. In the five tefillos and twenty-five hours of this lofty day, we will not have the time or mind-space to dedicate fully to any of these massive issues, let alone all of them.

We are each preparing to engage in a unique opportunity for conversation with the Melech Malchei HaMelachim. Yet we feel a frazzled, fragmented and disorganized, wondering what’s our goal here? What’s our aim? What are we trying to achieve?

Addressing these overwhelming questions, the Kriyas HaTorah for Yom Kippur describes the Avoda – the journey of the Kohen Gadol into the deepest and most transcendent place, on the most elevated day of the year. “See here”, the Torah details, “these are the directions to entering the world of Yom Kippur. This is how you do it.”

And so the Parsha begins: “With this, Aharon will enter the Kodesh”. This is the way in – בזאת יבא אהרן אל הקדש.

But the truth is that we’re getting ahead of ourselves. The Torah does not in fact begin with these instructions.

Instead, the Torah opens with the tragedy of the death of Nadav and Avihu, who died on the day of the inauguration of the Mishkan: אַחֲרֵי מוֹת שְׁנֵי בְּנֵי אַהֲרֹן בְּקׇרְבָתָם לִפְנֵי־ה׳ וַיָּמֻתוּ – after the death of the two sons of Aaron who died when they drew too close to the presence of Hashem.

It’s a bizarre place to begin. Why start our lofty and elevated Yom Kippur journey with this tragedy?

The Sod Yesharim explains with sensitivity and profundity:

בזאת היינו בזאת הגערה בעצמה שהיה במיתת בני אהרן כדכתיב עליהם בקרובי אקדש בזאת הגערה והיראה צריכין נמי ישראל להפריד מהם הרע בזה היום של יום כפור

With this pain and rejection that you feel over the death of Aharon's sons... Through that anger and fear itself, the Jewish people will rid themselves from all evil.

Somehow, the only way Aharon HaKohen can approach Hashem on Yom Kippur is by carrying the weight the of pain and loss of his children.

Imagine the scene: Moshe telling Aharon of the great mission he has been charged with. He will be entering into the Kodesh HaKodashim, on Yom Kippur. Achieving forgiveness and purity for Klal Yisrael and the world.

But Aharon is reluctant. He does not want to enter that place. For everyone else, that's the Kodesh HaKodashim, but for him, it's place where his two sons died.

Imagine the humiliation, the sadness, regret and anger, the self doubt, the survivors guilt. The questions of “What I might have done better, or differently? Maybe if I raised them with a little more or this or that... Maybe I could’ve stopped them... Maybe it all my fault? Maybe it didn’t need to be this way?”

With that pain and shame, Hashem tells Aharon: בזאת יבא אהרן אל הקדש. Bring it all in. Yom Kippur is a day that holds all of Human Experience. Everything that we are, and everything that we are not. Everything we wish to be, and haven't achieved. Yom Kippur holds all of it.

That’s the real invitation of the day. It’s the whole story, the whole person, the whole of life with all our flaws, faults and failures.

A few years ago Jeff Bezos decided to ride his rocket into orbit, he said he was looking forward to seeing earth from space to gain perspective on this life.

To this spectacle, one commenter responed:

If he wants perpective, I suggest he take a walk through a Children's Oncology Unit, or an impoverished neighborhood, or shadow a single working mom who's juggling three jobs to feed her kids... That's Perspective.

The secret of Yom Kippur is that we don't escape this world to find truth. We journey into it.

The Sifra tells us that there is a special name for Yom Kippur: “ואל יבא בכל עת” – זה יום הכפורים – Yom Kippur is called “every moment”. That is to say: Every second of our lives from last year to this one, are contained within this day. Every day from Creation until the World to Come are contained within this day.

In the deepest way, our sins are not forgiven on Yom Kippur because Hashem says “don't worry about it.” Our sins are forgiven because they are nullified in the infinity of Hashem.

Hashem Himself is the mikvah – מקוה ישראל ה׳ – when we hold onto Him, when we immerse ourselves in His Infinity, everything is part of the story. But in order to achieve this atonement, we need to be totally immersed, with all of our sadness, anger, pain, frustration and failure. With all of our joy, celebration and victory. בזאת יבא אהרן אל הקדש – We need to bring our whole selves inside.

In this place and space, there is no past, present or future. Here and only here, our pain can be healed in the grand story of Klal Yisrael. When we emerge from the Mikvah, we are purified from our sins, because the person that emerges has glimpsed at eternity. The person that exits Yom Kippur is different than the one who entered.

Rav Shlomo Twerski, the Malchus Shlomo of Denver, once served on the Beis Din for the conversion of righteous convert, a Ger-Tzedek. When the newly minted Jew arose from the Mikvah, Rav Shlomo overwhelmed by his commitment and connection to Hashem. He turned to him and said: “For your first mitzvah, as a Jew, I would like take my place and join this Beis Din!” He then proceeded to enter the mikvah himself, just as the Ger had done, and announced “I too wish to accept all of the Mitzvos! I want to become a Jew again.”

That’s the focus of Yom Kippur this year. All of us, our whole person, our whole nation. Everything and anything we are. Whoever we are. Whatever pains us. Whatever brings us joy.

For just one day, Hashem is inviting us to bring everything we have into His Mikvah. Just to be there with Him and the rest of His people.

And if we can find a way to do it, if can truly enter as we are, Hashem promises that we’ll exit as the people we all so desperately want to be – לפני ה’ תטהרו.

Wishing us all the greatest year ahead – גמר חתימה טובה.

One Friday, a man entered the study of Rabbi Duvid Moshe Friedman, the Tchortkover Rebbe, with a request that was tragically common in those days.

“My son was drafted into the Polish army,” the man began. “However, we have a way out. On Sunday, we are going to a doctor who will falsely declare him unfit for service. This way he will be spared certain misery, perhaps even death in that terrible army. Rebbe,” he asked, “I need your bracha that he evade the draft.”

The Rebbe quietly told him that Shabbos was nearing and he could not concentrate on such Brachos. The man should return to him on Friday evening after his tisch.

The man did so. After most of the chasidim had left, the man repeated his request, almost verbatim. Again the Rebbe was non-committal. “Return to me after Shachris.”

Dejectedly, the man noted that he would really like to resolve this matter before Sunday morning.

Shabbos morning, after davening, the man approached the Rebbe again. Calmly he repeated the predicament. “Sunday morning I am going to a doctor who will falsely declare my son unfit for military service. Please pray that we will evade conscription.” The Rebbe was not moved. Again, he deferred until the afternoon.

At Shalosh Shudos, the scene repeated again, precisely the way it had the previous three times. “I understand that you are leaving Sunday morning. Come back to me late Motzei Shabbos,” said the Rebbe. “By then I will have an answer for you.”

By this time, his Chasidim's curiosity was piqued. They had never seen their Rebbe so reluctant to give a bracha, especially when it was one that would save a Jewish soul from the frightful Polish army.

That Motzei Shabbos a large crowd gathered as the man approached with his request. Frustrated and disgruntled, the man, once again, repeated his story, almost verbatim, for the fifth time.

Immediately, the Rebbe sprung from his chair and began to shout. “What are you asking me? Why would one even try to evade the service of our wonderful country? How dare you ask me for a bracha of that sort? Your son would make a fine soldier for our country. I wish him the best of luck in the army!”

The man quickly scurried from the room and left town. The Chasidim stood shocked and bewildered. Never had they heard such an uncharacteristic outcry from the Rebbe.

“I will explain,” said the Rebbe. “That man was a fraud. He had no son, and if he did, he wanted him in the army. That man was sent by the government to test our loyalty. Thank God we passed the test.”

“But, Rebbe!” cried the chasidim, “how did you know?”

”It was quite simple,” explained the Rebbe. “When he first arrived, he asked calmly for a bracha. More calmly than a desperate father would ask. So I pushed him off, and I watched the level of intensity. From the moment he arrived until tonight there was no increase in intensity nor feeling of desperation with each request. And when I heard his fifth request tonight and it contained no more passion or desperation than his first request on Friday night, I knew he was a fraud.”

We all know the difference between sincerity and lip service, and keeping that in mind might help focus us for the days ahead.

We are about to enter 72 hours of connection, commitment and renewal. It’s a three day yom tov for Jews around the world. There will be thousands of words read and said. Hundreds of pages turned. Shofar blast after Shofar blast.

And after all of that, it’s still possible for all of it to be meaningless.

The litmus test of this Rosh Hashana is not in the amount of words that we say, but the meaning behind them. Are we going say what we mean, and mean what we say?

That’s the challenge. But this year, in particular there is a unique opportunity that we have this Rosh Hashana.

Perhaps for the first time in our lifetimes, the insanity and crookedness of the world around us is so blatantly obvious. The bubbles have burst, the illusions have faded, and we have witnessed a world of hatred that vehemently denies Hashem, His Torah and right for His People to Live.

But that’s only a piece of the story. Simultaneously, we have seen and participated in the greatest reawakening of Klal Yisrael in generations. Through the pain and brokenness we have met and discovered heroes of our people. We have shared their tears, and been inspired by these giants of spirit.

We are entering 5785 with a sense of clarity that we have never known before. The difference between good and evil has been highlighted with stunning precision.

As we stand in Hashem’s court room, He is asking each of us and all of us: How should we proceed? Are you willing to take a stand? Are you ready to make a change in your own life?

Hashem turns to us and asks a simple question: I know you want peace, safety and security; but why do you want it?

Are we yearning for the world to return to mindless narcissistic materialism? Or are we yearning for a global renaissance of morality, meaning and purpose?

Hashem does not make this decision. It’s up to us to choose how our world continues from this point onwards. The decisions we make in our hearts and minds are invisible to everyone outside of us and Hashem; but that’s where the difference is made.

The Torah speaks of Rosh HaShana as the hidden holiday – תִּקְעוּ בַחֹדֶשׁ שׁוֹפָר בַּכֶּסֶה לְיוֹם חַגֵּנוּ – Blow the Shofar in the month of the concealed festival.

Rabbeinu Bachayeh explains:

ומה שבאה פרשה זו סתומה יותר משאר פרשיות המועדים, הענין הוא מה שידוע בעניני תורתנו הקדושה אותם שהן מפנות הדת ומעקריה, כי כל מה שהענין יותר נעלם ויותר פנימי הוא יותר סתום ובא הלשון בו בדרך קצרה ובמלות מועטות

Rosh Hashanah is hidden in the Torah. It has fewer details than any other Chag in the text. But we know and understand that the deeper something is, the harder it is to contain and define it with words.

We are entering the deepest days of the year; the Rosh – the mind of the year. From our thoughts, desires and dreams in this moment, everything will be different. It has to be.

Ultimately, Hashem is making us the greatest offer in history: You see how it is. You’re dreaming of what could be. You know that everything could change this year. Do you really want it?

Hashem should help us to want His wants, to dream His dreams. To partner with Him in the last moments of history before He sounds the Great Shofar of our Freedom.