Parsha with Rabbi David Bibi

 Open the Gates — The Secret of thePsalm of Parnassah  Whydid לְדָוִדמִזְמוֹר, לַה׳ הָאָרֶץ וּמְלוֹאָהּ become one of ourgreat prayers for parnassah?We say it every Sunday as we begin a new week. In Moroccan communities it isrecited as Shabbat departs and we return to the working world. And on RoshHashanah, in the Syrian community, people will bid extraordinary sums for theprivilege of opening the Heikhal as we recite this Psalm and pray for financialblessing for the coming year. But there is something strange: the Psalm never actually asks for money.  Inthis morning’s Breakfast & Class,Openthe Gates — The Secret of the Psalm of Parnassah,we discover that perhaps this is precisely the point. David HaMelekh begins byreminding us Who owns everything, asks whether ourhands are clean enough to receive His blessing, and finally calls upon thegates to open. But when those gates open, it isn’t money that comes through: וְיָבֹא מֶלֶךְ הַכָּבוֹד — “Let theKing of Glory enter.” Perhaps thegreatest secret of parnassahis not simply asking HaShem to send us more, but inviting Him into the way weearn, spend, give—and live.  

When You Can’t See the Runway What happens when we find ourselves flying through the clouds — unable to see what lies ahead, frightened by the turbulence, and unsure whether we are even heading in the right direction? A remarkable story told by Rabbi Shlomo Landau about two young men trapped in a small airplane with an unconscious pilot gives us a powerful way to understand one of the great challenges of life: learning to listen to the Voice that knows exactly where we are and exactly where we need to go. The Torah never promises that there won’t be a war. It never promises that there won’t be clouds. And it never promises that we won’t be frightened. But as we enter Elul and read כִּי תֵצֵא לַמִּלְחָמָה, perhaps we are being reminded that even when we cannot see the runway, Hashem can. Our task is to keep fighting, keep moving forward — and above all, keep listening. 

This morning’s Breakfast & Class begins with a few simple words from Parashat Ki Tavo: וְהָיָה אִם־שָׁמוֹעַ תִּשְׁמַע בְּקוֹל ה׳ אֱלֹהֶיךָ — “If we will surely listen to the voice of HaShem.” Before the Torah promises all of its extraordinary blessings, it gives us a strategy for everything that follows: begin with emunah. There is a God. He is our God. There is no other. And perhaps every time we answer one small word — אָמֵן — we are practicing that faith all over again. From a remarkable story about Rav Yeḥezkel Levenstein and the difference between seeing and hearing, to the mesorah we receive from our parents and grandparents, to simply making the effort to come to synagogue on a stormy morning, we explore what it means to walk toward HaShem even when we cannot see everything clearly. And ultimately we arrive at the sound we are preparing to hear on Rosh Hashanah: לִשְׁמֹעַ קוֹל שׁוֹפָר. We cannot see what the Shofar accomplishes. We hear — and we believe. The Sound of Emunah: the faith that allows us to hear.  

What can one small mitzvah possibly accomplish? We say Tehillim for a refuah, give tzedakah in someone’s zechut, dedicate Torah learning to someone who is ill—and yet the question remains: how can something so small affect something so large? This class begins with the Zera Shimshon on Shiluach HaKen, who teaches that the problem may be in the question itself. What looks small to us may carry enormous weight in Shamayim. From the mother bird of Parashat Ki Tetzei, we move to the metzora, Rachel Imeinu, Mashiach, the hidden storehouse of neshamos, and the mystery of how mitzvot create zechut. The central message is simple and powerful: never measure a mitzvah by how small it looks from here. We see the bird; HaShem sees the worlds it moves. May this Torah be a zechut for לְכָל חוֹלֵי עַמּוֹ יִשְׂרָאֵל. 

 This Sundaymorning’s Breakfast & Classbegins with the opening words of Parashat Ki Tetzeh: “Ki tetze la-milḥamah al oyevecha”— when we go out to war against our enemies. The Zohar and the Or HaḤaim revealthat the Torah may also be describing a much more personal battle: the waragainst the yetzer hara, and the beautiful captive as our own neshamah.  Elulis not only about discovering what is wrong with us. It is about rescuing whatis still beautiful within us. In this morning’s class, we follow the versesstep by step and discover how Ki Tetzeh becomes a map for Elul — going out tobattle, taking back what was captured, and finally bringing the neshamah home.  

 You Don’t Need to Know How the Book Ends — A Birthday, RoshHodesh Elul & Parashat Shoftim  Yesterdaywas my secular birthday. Today is my Hebrew birthday. And tonight is RoshHodesh Elul. In this morning’s Breakfast & a Class,we used that unusual convergence to ask a question that becomes more meaningfulwith every passing year: What are we supposed to do with the time HaShem givesus? We remembered my dear friend David Golden, who passed away last year theday after his 110th birthday, and the remarkable way he continued to appreciateevery additional day of life. Hazal teach that there is something special aboutthe day of one’s birth—but perhaps the real question is not what blessing can Ireceive today, but what am I supposed to do with another year that HaShem hasgiven me?  Fromthere, this morning’s Breakfast & a Classturned to an extraordinary cassette tape I received when I was eighteen—anastrological reading of my future that I refused to listen to until decadeslater, when Rabbi Abittan, z”l, suggested we hear it together. Its astonishingaccuracy led to an unforgettable lesson from the Rabbi and directly into thisweek’s Parashat Shoftim: תָּמִים תִּהְיֶה עִם ה׳ אֱלֹקֶיךָ — walk wholeheartedly withHaShem. Elul asks us tolook honestly at yesterday, but the Torah warns us not to become obsessed withknowing tomorrow. We don’t need to know how the book ends. We need the wisdomto learn from the pages already written, the faith to leave the unopened pageswith HaShem, and the strength to make today’s page worth reading.  

Elul: A Refuge in Time — What Are We Doing With the TimeHashem Has Given Us?  What is one hour of our life really worth? Parashat Shoftim brings us back to the Ir Miklat,the city of refuge—a place designed not simply for exile, but for reflection,rehabilitation, and ultimately return. Rabbi Yissocher Frand points to aremarkable allusion from the Arizal: the words אִנָּה לְיָדוֹ וְשַׂמְתִּי לְךָform the initials אֱלוּל. An Ir Miklat isa refuge in space; Elul is a refuge in time.It is Hashem’s gift of a place in the calendar to stop and ask ourselves whatwe are doing with the precious life He has given us.  This week we enter Rosh Hodesh Elul, and next Sunday we Sepharadim beginSelihot—giving up an extra hour of sleep each morning to wake up in more waysthan one. Through the unforgettable story of Rabbi Ḥanina ben Teradyon, MosheRabbeinu’s forty days, and the Rambam’s call of עוּרוּ יְשֵׁנִים מִשְּׁנַתְכֶם — “Wakeup, sleepers, from your sleep,” we explore the extraordinary value of a single hour. Perhaps the challenge of Selihot is not merely to give Hashem that extra hour, but to allow that hour to change the other twenty-three.  

 This morning atBreakfast and a Class, we explored one of the most familiar verses in theTorah: “Man does not live by bread alone.”But what does that really mean? After all, HaShem did sustain the Jewish peoplein the desert with the manna—a miraculous form of bread. The lesson is not thatwe do not need physical sustenance. We do. The lesson is that the bread isnever the true source. The food, the doctor, the paycheck, the customer and theopportunity are all vessels through which HaShem sends His blessing.  Webegan with a lighthearted insight from my friend Rabbi Mordechai Kamenetzkyabout the difference between what we need and what we want, and from there wefollowed the manna into the desert, entered the cave with Rabbi Shimon bar Yoḥai,and returned to our own breakfast table. The question is not whether we enjoythe physical world. The question is whether we remember Who placed the blessingwithin it. Listen to this morning’s class, “Not by Bread Alone: What We Need, WhatWe Want, and Who Sustains Us.”  

This morning at Breakfast & a Class, we explored one of the Torah’s most challenging mitzvot—not simply giving tzedakah, but learning how to give with an open heart. Beginning with the powerful verses in Parashat Re’eh, we examined the Torah’s remarkable order: first, “Do not harden your heart,” and only afterward, “Do not close your hand.” Through the teachings of Chazal and the wisdom of Rabbi Asher Abittan זצ״ל, we discovered that Judaism asks not only what we give, but who we are while we are giving. The class centers around a very personal experience that took place immediately after a Sunday morning shiur, when a chance encounter outside the synagogue became the continuation of the lesson itself. Together we explore what Rabbi Yisrael Salanter, the Brisker Rav, and the Gemara in Bava Batra teach us about restoring dignity, offering encouragement, and recognizing the image of HaShem in every person we meet. Sometimes the greatest act of kindness is not opening our wallet—it is opening our heart. 

 This morningsBreakfast & a Class, explored one of the great paradoxes of the Torah. Howcould the generation that stood at Har Sinai, heard the voice of HaShem, andaccepted the Torah with the words Na’aseh veNishmadescend only forty days later to the sin of the Golden Calf? More importantly,what does that ancient failure teach us about our own struggles withcommitment, responsibility, and spiritual growth? Drawing upon the insights ofRabbi Mordechai Kamenetzky, Rabbanit Dena Rock, and other Torah sources, wediscovered that the real issue may not have been idolatry alone, but the humantendency to desire inspiration without obligation—a relationship with God thatcomforts us but asks nothing of us.  Yetthe Torah’s message does not end with failure. The very trait that led to theGolden Calf—our stubbornness—is transformed by Moshe Rabbeinu into one of theJewish people’s greatest strengths. Through moving stories of Rabbi EliezerSilver, Rabbi Aryeh Levin, and Rabbi Yisrael Salanter, we explored howdetermination, when directed toward Heaven, becomes perseverance, loyalty, andhope. The question is not whether we are stubborn; we all are. The question is:Whatare we stubborn for? May thisdiscussion inspire all of us to use our strength not to resist HaShem, but tohold fast to Him, to one another, and to the belief that, as long as the candleis still burning, it is never too late to repair.  

 This past Shabbatwe entered Shabbat Naḥamu, the Shabbat ofComfort, and with it began the seven weeks that lead us from the ashes ofTishah Be’Av toward the hope of Rosh HaShanah. Then, on Tuesday night andWednesday, we celebrate Tu Be’Av, the fifteenthday of the Hebrew month of Av, a day that our Sages describe as one of thehappiest days of the Jewish year. How can the Jewish calendar move so quicklyfrom the deepest national mourning to one of its greatest celebrations? Whatchanged in just a few days? In thismorning’s class we explore a profound answer. Tu Be’Av is not a departure fromTishah Be’Av—it is its completion. The destruction of the Beit HaMikdash wasnot only our tragedy; it was, so to speak, HaShem’s. When our mourning maturesfrom grieving what we lost torecognizing the pain caused to Avinu ShebaShamayim, consolationcan begin. Drawing upon the Gemara, Midrash, and the timeless teachings passeddown by my rabbis, we discover why Tu Be’Av stands alongside Yom Kippur as aday of joy, how true teshuvah is rooted in empathy for HaShem, and why thefirst steps toward rebuilding the Beit HaMikdash begin not with stones, butwith repaired relationships—with HaShem and with one another. 

 Parashat VaEtḥanan – The Whisper Before the Shout  Why does HaShem sometimes whisper before He shouts? Drawing upon the profound teachings of Rav Eliyahu Eliezer Dessler, the revered teacher of Rabbi Asher Abittan, this week’s podcast explores one of Judaism’s most difficultquestions: not why suffering exists, but how we are meant to respond when life is disrupted. Through the words of Moshe Rabbeinu in Parashat VaEtḥanan, we discover the remarkable promise of “u’vikashtem misham”—thateven “from there,” from places of pain, confusion, and exile, we can still seekand find HaShem.  As we journey from Tish’a Be’Av toward Shabbat Naḥamu, Rav Dessler reminds us that Judaism does not ask us to explain every wound. Instead, it invites us tolisten for HaShem’s gentle whisper before life forces us to hear the shout.This episode is a thoughtful reflection on suffering, teshuvah, hope, and thequiet courage to keep searching for HaShem—even when we do not yet understand the road before us.  

Although this class was delivered on the night of Tish’ah BeAb, its message extends far beyond the fast day. It is a timeless exploration of exile, faith, the hidden presence of the Shekhinah, and the enduring hope that what has been broken can once again be made whole.     From Ayekka to Eichah: The Hidden Journey from Revelation toRedemption  What is the connection between the very first question HaShem asked Adam in Gan Eden—“Ayekka, Where are you?”—and the opening cry of Megillat Eichah? Why did Moshe Rabbenu, Yeshayahu HaNavi, and Yirmiyahu HaNavi all use the same haunting word, “Eichah”?And what is the deeper meaning behind the Kabbalistic teaching of the “fallenlower heh” and the concealed Shekhinah?  In this Tish’ah BeAb lecture, delivered at the Edmond J. Safra Synagogue inManhattan, we explore the first chapter of Megillat Eichah through the lens ofMidrash, Zohar, and Kabbalah. Along the way, we discover how the words Ayekka, Anochi, and Eichah trace the spiritual journey of the Jewish people—from Gan Eden to Har Sinai, from the destruction of Yerushalayim to the hope of redemption. The class concludes with a beautiful insight into the unique Syrian custom of beginning the night of Tish’ah BeAb with Parashat Ha’azinu, revealing how our liturgy itself carries the message that even in the depths of exile, thecovenant endures and redemption is already waiting to emerge.