Weekly Inspire

The Gemara (Sanhedrin 93a) tells the story of two false Jewish prophets who lived during the time of the Babylonian King Nevuchadnetzar. The king accused them of prophesying falsely, and decreed that they should be thrown into a furnace. He said that if they were real prophets, then they would miraculously survive, just as three righteous Jews – Hananya, Mishael and Azarya – had previously emerged unscathed from the furnace. The two prophets argued that the merit of three righteous men exceeds that of just two, and so this trial was unfair. Nevuchadnetzar allowed them to choose a third person with whom to be cast into the furnace, and they selected the tzadik Yehoshua Kohen Gadol, hoping that his merit would protect them. The three was thrown into the furnace – and Yehoshua miraculously survived, while the two prophets perished. However, Yehoshua's garment was burned by the fire. Yehoshua was asked why his clothes were burned, whereas Avraham Avinu, when he was thrown into a furnace many centuries earlier, emerged completely unscathed, without even his garments being ruined. Yehoshua answered that since he was in the furnace together with two wicked people, the fire was given permission to consume, and so his garments were burned. Avraham, by contrast, was thrown into the furnace alone, and so the fire was not granted the power to consume anything. This story is teaching us a sobering but important truth: when we are in bad company, we get "burned" to some extent. Even if we succeed in "surviving," in maintaining our beliefs and values, we are likely to be affected. Let us take the example of a person who works with people who routinely use foul, vulgar language. He will, hopefully, "survive," and manage to refrain from speaking the way they do – but he will probably end up using words that he should not use; his standards are likely to be compromised in some way. After Korah and his followers challenged Moshe Rabbenu, launching an audacious uprising against Moshe's authority, Hashem told Moshe and Aharon, הבדלו מתוך העדה הזאת – that they must "separate," or withdraw, from this evil group of people, and Hashem would destroy them (16:21). Later, after Korah and his men were killed, the people continued protesting and arguing, and so Hashem commanded Moshe and Aharon, הרמו מתוך העדה הזאת – to "lift" themselves out of this nation, and He would destroy them. Aharon eventually saved the nation by bringing an incense offering. What's important for our purposes is the distinction between these two terms – הבדלו and הרמו . When possible, we are advised to "separate," to withdraw. Sometimes, there is a small group of people that we don't need to be with, or a small event that we don't need to attend. We need to have the conviction to withdraw, to refuse to go where we shouldn't go, to refuse to be in the company of people who pull us down, who cause us to be "burned" in one way or another. But sometimes withdrawing isn't an option. We all have people and settings that we cannot avoid, that are always going to be part of our lives – such as family members or coworkers. Regarding these, the Torah commands us: הרמו . We need to lift ourselves, to have the courage and confidence to keep ourselves high even when others are trying to pull us down. We do not need to be the product of our surroundings, or even be influenced by our surroundings. We have the capacity to lift ourselves above what is going on around us. The Midrash famously comments that the ארבע מינים – the four species we hold on Sukkot – represent the four different kinds of Jews. The etrog , with its delicious taste and pleasant fragrance, symbolizes the righteous person who both studies Torah and performs good deeds. The aravah , which features neither taste nor scent, symbolizes the Jew with neither Torah nor good deeds to his credit. The hadas branch has a fragrant scent but bears no fruit, while the lulav (palm branch) produces luscious dates but has no aroma – symbolizing those Jews who learn but do not perform mitzvot , or who perform mitzvot but do not learn. We bring the four species together to symbolize unity, the harmonious blending of the many different types of Jews. Significantly, however, while the lulav , aravot and hadasim are bound together, the etrog stands apart. It is held closely with the other three species – but is not tied with them. This shows that to be an " etrog " – to achieve greatness – we sometimes need to stand alone, to withdraw, to rise above. The etrog is held together with the other three species because the righteous person must, on the one hand, stand together with the rest of the people, without snobbery or elitism. However, on the other hand, the etrog remains separate – because one cannot be an " etrog " without occasionally pulling away from those who might keep him down. May Hashem give us the strength we need to withdraw when we need to, and to elevate ourselves when we need to, so we can continue to grow and achieve without anyone or anything ever stopping us.

King Shlomo teaches us in Mishleh (14:27): יראת ה' מקור חיים לסור ממקשי מות – "Fear of G-d is the source of life; turning one away from the traps of death." I believe that this pasuk , if understood properly, is exceedingly powerful, and conveys one of the most important lessons for young people today who struggle with the temptations of modern life. Whenever a person is faced with temptation, he is being offered two contracts, and he needs to choose one. The first contract says: Enjoy now, and ruin the rest of your life. Most of what tempts young people really is enjoyable and fun. Drugs…alcohol…gambling… In the moment, it makes the person happy. He enjoys it. He feels really good. He's excited. But in the long-term – it ruins his life. Once a person starts, it becomes difficult – and sometimes all but impossible – to stop. As the Gemara says about temptation: משביעו – רעב, מרעיבו – שבע . If one satiates his desire – it becomes hungrier for more; if he starves it – it feels satiated. The more a person indulges, the more he wants and the more he needs. This is what we might call the "contract of death." The terms are: You have a great time now, and in the very near future, but you will then pay for this enjoyment the rest of your life, which will be turned upside-down. The other contract says just the opposite: Struggle now, and then enjoy the happiest, most fulfilling life you can have. Yes, there are struggles. But מרעיבו – שבע . If a person accustoms himself to saying "no," to winning the struggle, to resisting temptation, he will find it so much easier for the rest of his life to live a disciplined, accomplished and fulfilling Torah life, which is, undoubtedly, the best life a person could possibly live. This is what King Shlomo is teaching us. יראת ה' – overpowering temptation with the fear of Hashem – is מקור חיים , the source of a rich, happy and fulfilling life. It is what pulls a person away from מוקשי מוות , from the dangerous pitfalls that can literally ruin his life. In our parashah , Parashat Behaalotecha, we learn more about this struggle and how it works. The Torah tells of how Hashem punished Beneh Yisrael for complaining about the conditions in the desert, for objecting to the manna that He provided for them, demanding more. But if we look carefully, we see that they did more than complain. The Torah says, התאוו תאווה – which literally means, "they desired a desire." They weren't faced with temptation. They decided to bring a desire upon themselves. They imagined to themselves that there must be more out there that they were not enjoying. They wanted to have this temptation, because they felt there were missing out. This is what happens to so many young people today. Nobody comes into the world with a natural desire for drugs, alcohol or gambling. But התאוו תאווה – they feel that there must be something rewarding in these activities, that they need to try it, they need to "get it out of their system." But then the תאווה takes over, and threatens to ruin their life. משביעו - רעב . By bringing the desire upon themselves and then feeding it, they make it stronger, resulting in a vicious and catastrophic cycle. When faced with these struggles, one needs to remember the two contracts. There is no third option. By overcoming these challenges, one accesses the מקור חיים – the source to a truly rewarding and beautiful life. This does not mean everything will be easy. No person's life is without difficulty. But if one avoids the מוקשי מוות , the pitfalls that threaten to destroy life, he finds his way to happiness and fulfillment, to the unparalleled joy of following Hashem's will and living a life of meaning and purpose.

The Gemara in Masechet Sanhedrin (91b) teaches: כל המונע הלכה מפי תלמיד כאילו גוזלו מנחלת אבותיו - "Whoever withholds a halacha from a student, it is as though he steals from his forefathers' estate." Meaning, if a teacher decides not to teach a certain student Torah, having decided that the student is either unworthy or incapable of being taught, then the teacher is guilty of "theft." He is viewed as though he stole from that youngster. To understand the meaning of the Gemara's comment, let us imagine a wealthy person who appoints someone to manage his estate and oversee its distribution after his passing. A few years later, the wealthy fellow passes away, and the appointed administrator of his estate meets with the family. He then decides that a certain child of the deceased is not worthy of a portion of the estate. Does this administrator have the right to deny that son a portion? It goes without saying that he does not. The property belongs to all the children. His role is to manage the estate – not to decide who is in and who is out. The Gemara explains the aforementioned teaching by citing the famous pasuk , תורה ציווה לנו משה, מורשה קהילת יעקב – "Moshe taught us Torah, an inheritance for the congregation of Yaakov" (Devarim 33:4). The Torah is an "inheritance" in the sense that it is given to the entire Jewish People. No teacher has the right to decide that a certain student doesn't deserve a share in Torah, to write off a student and deny him the privilege of a Torah education. The Torah doesn't belong to the teacher; it belongs to the entirety of Am Yisrael , including challenging students. The Gemara then proceeds to state: כל המונע הלכה מפי תלמיד אפילו עוברין שבמעי אמו מקללין אותו - "Whoever withholds a halacha from a student, even the fetuses in their mother's belly curse him." It seems that the Gemara here is imagining the response of an unborn child who sees a teacher decide not to teach students whom he considers incapable of learning. The fetus will begin to fear that maybe he, too, will struggle. Perhaps he will not have the sharpest mind, or will have attention issues, or will suffer from dyslexia or another learning challenge. Does he want to come into a world where only the brightest and most talented kids are given the gift of Torah? Of course not. And so the fetus curses the teacher – because he wants to come into a world where all children are given the opportunity to shine and excel, each in his own way, at his own pace, and on his own level. Rav Dovid Soloveitchik, the famous Rosh Yeshiva of the Brisk Yeshiva in Yerushalayim, was once asked if educators should give greater attention to the elite students, those with the potential to become the outstanding rabbinic leaders of the future. Should educators invest more time and effort in these students, to help ensure they maximize their potential, or should all students be given the same amount of attention? Rav Dovid replied, "Why do you assume that specifically the elite students will become gedolim ?" It was clear to him that educators must invest in all their students equally, because all students have the potential for greatness. A youngster's performance in yeshiva says nothing about who he can or will become as an adult. מורשה קהילת יעקב . The Torah is every Jew's inheritance, and every Jew has the ability to achieve in Torah. And just as we may not give up on any student, we also may never give up on ourselves. No matter what a person's background is, no matter what he has done or hasn't done in the past, no matter his circumstances in the present – the Torah belongs to him. He has a share, and he has the right, and the obligation, to receive his share. A teacher must not deny any student his share in Torah – and a person must not deny himself his share in Torah. Today, more than at any other time, there really is no excuse for not seriously engaging in Torah learning. Modern technology – with all the spiritual challenges it poses – offers every Jew endless opportunities for intensive Torah study. Classes and publications for Jews of all levels are available. And every Jew owes it to himself to avail himself of these opportunities and take his rightful share in Torah. As we celebrate זמן מתן תורתנו , our receiving the Torah at Mount Sinai, let us remember that the Torah was given to each and every one of us – to each and every child, and to each and every adult, and we all have the right and the obligation to experience the unparalleled joy and satisfaction that Torah brings.

The Torah commands us at the end of Parashat Behar, לא תעשו לכם אלילים – not to make idols (26:1). This command might at first seem irrelevant to us, as we live in a time where nobody bows down to statues the way they did in the ancient world. But when we look a bit deeper, I believe this mitzvah is extremely important and presents us with a crucial lesson for our lives. Let's begin with the story of three great men who risked their lives to obey this command. During the time of the Babylonian exile, the emperor Nevuchadnetzar had a large statue built, and he ordered everyone in the kingdom to bow down to this statue. There were three righteous Jews who worked in the king's palace – Hananyah, Mishael and Azaryah – and they refused to bow to the idol, even at the threat of the death. Nevuchadnetzar ordered that they be thrown into a furnace, but they miraculously survived. The Gemara in Masechet Sanhedrin (92b) makes a remarkable comment about this story. From the pesukim in the Book of Daniel that tell this story, the Gemara notes, it appears that Hananyah, Mishael and Azaryah made a point of keeping on their official uniforms when they were being thrown into the furnace. Even during these moments, when it seemed that they were going to be killed, they did not change into simple clothes. They insisted on wearing their official garb. The Gemara learns from this that אפילו בשעת הסכנה לא ישנה אדם את עצמו מן הרבנות שלו – even when a person is in danger, he shouldn't compromise his dignity. He should remain composed and maintain a respectable demeanor even when he's under duress, when his life becomes challenging and even when it is at risk. Hananyah, Mishael and Azaryah were heroes not only for steadfastly remaining loyal to Hashem under the threat of death – but also for doing it with composure and dignity. This aspect of their story perhaps sheds light on the Gemara's comment later (93a) about the aftermath of this miracle. The Gemara states that people ridiculed the other Jews following this incident, telling them, יש לכם אלוק כזה ואתם משתחוים לצלם – "You have a G-d like this, and you're bowing to an idol?!" The people saw not only the great miracle – but also the honor and dignity displayed by Hananyah, Mishael and Azaryah. They turned to the other Jews and asked, "You have a G-d who can elevate you to such great heights – how can you lower yourselves by bowing to idols? This is how great you could become – and you choose to get involved in silly idols, instead?" "Idols" are the antithesis of the stature of greatness embodied by Hananyah, Mishael and Azaryah. They are our model of dignity, of honorability, the respect with which a Jew is supposed to live. The Torah strictly warns us, לא תעשו לכם אלילים – not to compromise our stature by getting involving in silliness, in vanity, in nonsense. One of the "idols" of our time is gossip. We so often find ourselves speaking about other people – about who might be getting engaged, who might be breaking up, who might be expecting a child, who might be buying a new house, who might be switching jobs or opening a new business, who might be getting divorced, and so on. I highly recommend when such conversations start to take a step back and ask the question that the non-Jews asked our ancestors after the miracle of Hananyah, Mishael and Azaryah: יש לכם אלוק כזה ואתם משתחוים לצלם – We have such a G-d, and we're getting involved in such pettiness? We are Hashem's special nation, and this is what interests us? We were given the Torah, the potential for kedushah , for spiritual greatness – and we waste our time talking about other people's personal affairs that have nothing to do with us, and that we know nothing about? Aren't we better than this?? Let us remember the Gemara's timeless teaching: לא ישנה אדם את עצמו מן הרבנות שלו . At all times, let's keep our dignity, our self-respect, our sense of self-worth and self-importance. We matter too much to waste our time on nonsense. Our mission is too significant for us to allow ourselves to bow to "idols," to meaningless things. Let's stay far away from the idols of vanity, from things that don't really matter, that have no value, that we have no reason to concern ourselves with – and instead devote our time, our energy, and our attention to the things that really matter, that have real value, and that really should concern us.

Parashat Ahareh-Mot begins with a description of the עבודת יום הכיפורים – the special service performed by the kohen gadol in the Bet Ha'mikdash every Yom Kippur. Whereas in our time, without a Bet Ha'mikdash , the Yom Kippur experience is centered in the shul, in the past it was focused on the Bet Ha''mikdash , where the kohen gadol would offer a special series of sacrifices that would bring atonement for the nation. Surprisingly, though, this series of korbanot (sacrifices) began with a sacrifice that the kohen gadol would offer on behalf of himself and his family, an animal which he was required to purchase with his own money. On this day when the entire nation depended on the kohen gadol , when he represented all Am Yisrael before G-d, and acted on their behalf, he needed to first do something private, to bring a korban for himself and his family. To understand why, let us talk for a moment about celebrities. Many celebrities, despite having more money than they know what to do with, have utterly dysfunctional lives. They get a lot of attention from millions of fans, but they do not have a happy family life. The reason is, very simply, that they are entirely focused on their public lives, without giving much time or thought to their private lives. The fame they enjoy is so intoxicating, and so consuming, that they don't put in the effort needed to build a happy, stable private life. On Yom Kippur, the kohen gadol was the nation's leading public figure. Nobody was more important than him. He was taking center stage. All eyes were on him. Therefore, the Torah commanded him to begin the special service of this day as a private individual, offering a personal korban for himself and his family. He was reminded that his public persona must not overshadow his private identity, that his personal life was no less important than his public life. Indeed, the Torah concludes this section by stating, ויעש כאשר ציווה ה' את משה – that Aharon, the first kohen gadol , faithfully complied with these laws regarding the Yom Kippur service (16:34). Rashi explains: להגיד שבחו של אהרן שלא היה לובשן לגדולתו אלא כמקיים גזירת המלך . To express the praise of Aharon—that he would not wear them for his own grandeur, but rather as one fulfilling the decree of the King. The Torah emphasized that Aharon performed this service with humility, for the sake of serving Hashem and discharging his duties, and not to draw attention to himself and feel distinguished. He kept the public nature of his role in check, and ensured it didn't go to his head and lead him to see himself as more important than everyone else. A famous Mishnah in Pirkeh Avot (4:21) warns of three things that "remove a person from the world" ( מוציאין את האדם מן העולם ), meaning, that can ruin his life. These include קנאה – jealousy – and כבוד – the pursuit of fame and prestige. When a person is too preoccupied with his public image, with the way other people perceive him, with his reputation, this can lead him to neglect his private life, his family, his friends, his self-fulfillment, and his relationship with Hashem. Too many people subject themselves to unnecessary financial stress because they feel the need to "keep up," to do what other people do, to avoid the "embarrassment" of lower material standards. Luxuries turn into necessities for one reason and one reason only – because the neighbors have them. People end up doing things they know are wrong, that they know are harmful, or that they know makes their lives worse, because they are so concerned about their public image, about how they are seen by other people. We need to remember that reputation means very little if we are not living the lives that we are happy with, that we feel comfortable with, that we know is right for us. Even the kohen gadol , at his most public moment, was warned not to neglect his private life – to teach him, and to teach all of us, that what matters most is not what the public thinks about us, but what we think about ourselves, what those closest to us think about us, and, of course, what Hashem thinks about us.

The second Mishna in Pirkeh Avot contains one of the most famous teachings in Pirkeh Avot : על שלשה דברים העולם עומד, על התורה ועל העבודה ועל גמילות חסדים . The world stands on three things – on Torah, on service [of Hashem], and on acts of kindness. This Mishnah establishes that the three "pillars," so-to-speak, of the world are Torah learning, serving Hashem through sacrifices and prayer, and kindness toward other people. However, a later Mishnah in this chapter (18) seems to contradict this statement: על שלשה דברים העולם קיים, על הדין ועל האמת ועל השלום . The world exists through three things – judgment, truth, and peace. This later Mishna lists three other things as the "pillars" that uphold the world. Apparently, there is a difference between the three things upon which the world "stands" ( עומד ) and the three things through which the world "exists" ( קיים ). Rabbeinu Yonah explains that the first Mishna is teaching us the purpose of the world, why we are here. The three pursuits that define our purpose as Jews is תורה , עבודה and גמילות חסדים – serious engagement in Torah study, focused service of Hashem, and looking out for other people with kindness, generosity and sensitivity. The later Mishna, on the other hand, is telling us the three things that the world needs to continue existing, that without which, society would become chaotic and life would be impossible. If there is no justice system, and if people are dishonest and are unable to live with each other peacefully, then the world cannot achieve its purpose. But these three do not define the purpose – they are rather the features that the world needs for the purpose to be realized. Rabbenu Yonah here is teaching us of the crucial need to differentiate between the essence of Jewish life, and the secondary features of Jewish life – a lesson which, I feel, is exceedingly relevant in our time. We need to be very careful not to confuse the "frills" with the core-essence; to distinguish between the "steak" and the "sizzle." There are many beautiful practices which have become common features of religious life today, but which must not be mistaken for the essence of religious life. Many people frequently travel to Israel to receive blessings from great Rabbis, and to pray at graves of tzadikim . Many people belong to Tehillim chat groups. Many people receive and watch two-minute inspiration videos. Many people give money to the Rabbi Meir Ba'al Ha'ness charity and recite a special prayer when they can't find something. I am not at all opposed to any of these; to the contrary, I fully support them and I think they are wonderful. But we need to avoid the mistake of thinking that this is what Torah life is about. Torah life is about תורה , עבודה and גמילות חסדים . תורה – spending significant amounts of time immersed in Torah study, challenging ourselves to understand difficult and intricate texts and to enhance our knowledge and understanding of Torah. עבודה – ensuring to recite all the prayers at the right time and in the right way, with concentration and emotion. גמילות חסדים – working on ourselves to be more sensitive, more generous, more compassionate, more forgiving, more respectful and more patient. Often, when people face some kind of problem – such as a health issue, or a challenge with parnasah (livelihood) – their immediate reaction is to receive a blessing for a Rabbi, say some Tehillim, and give some money to charity. And these are all wonderful things to do. However, this should not be the primary response. The primary response is to do something that is both important and difficult , something that is challenging and which makes a significant difference. Spending time engrossed in high-level Torah study. Making a real effort to recite the entire shemonah esreh with concentration three times every day. Being kind and gracious to people whom we do not feel naturally inclined to be kind and gracious to. Deciding to avoid lashon ha'ra and to instead speak positively about other people. Not getting angry even when somebody does or says something that upsets us. Joining Tehillim groups, watching two-minute inspiration videos, and visiting graves are all wonderful – but these are the "sizzle," not the "steak." The "sizzle" is important – we need the excitement and "hype" that these bring to religious life – but they must not be mistaken for religious life itself. Religious life is about working hard to learn Torah, working hard to sincerely serve Hashem, and working hard to be kind to other people. Let's try to stay focused on what really matters, and make a real effort to excel in the areas that Hashem wants us to excel in.

The Gemara in Masechet Megillah (6b) discusses the situation of a Jewish leap year, when there are two months of Adar. According to the accepted opinion, in such a year, the holiday of Purim is celebrated during the second Adar. The Gemara explains: מסמך גאולה לגאולה עדיף – we want to juxtapose the "redemption" of Purim with the "redemption" of Pesach. Apparently, there is some connection between the celebration of Purim and the celebration of Pesach. Perhaps we can explain this connection based on a story told elsewhere in the Gemara (Gittin 56) about one of the worst enemies of the Jewish People – the wicked Roman general Titus, who destroyed the second Bet Ha'mikdash . The Gemara relates that sometime after he destroyed the Bet Ha'mikdash , Titus arrived at a certain place and a tiny gnat flew into his nostril, and lodged itself in his brain. It started pecking inside Titus' head, causing him unbearable pain. He was able to temporarily relieve himself of this pain by having a blacksmith bang with his anvil, as the noise disrupted the gnat, making it stop pecking. Soon thereafter, however, the gnat grew accustomed to this noise, and resumed its pecking. For seven years, Titus suffered from the incessant pecking, until he finally died. The Gemara concludes that Titus' head was opened after his passing, and it was discovered that the gnat was the size of a very large bird. This story might seem strange and esoteric – but when we probe a bit deeper, we find that it describes something that each and every one of us suffers from. A little "gnat" enters our brain, and it grows – making us so uncomfortable that we can't function. That "gnat" can be a family member who doesn't treat us the way we think he should. A competitor who is taking away customers. Something our spouse does or doesn't do that drives us crazy. At any time, we have at least one "little bug" in our brain, someone or something that we allow to live there rent-free. Even worse, we allow this "bug" to grow, and to grow, and to grow some more. We turn this annoyance into a far more serious problem than it really is. And, like the overgrown gnat inside Titus' head, it "pecks" and knocks at our brains, preventing us from thinking straight, not to mention from experiencing happiness and contentment. We turn this small problem into a huge problem, one which allows us no rest. There is perhaps no clearer example of this phenomenon than Haman. Haman had all the fame and wealth that anybody could ever dream of. And yet, he turned to his family and said, וכל זה איננו שווה לי – none of his fame and wealth was worth it. None of it made him happy. Why? Because of Mordechai. Because of that one Jewish guy who refused to bow. Mordechai's refusal to bow was a tiny, insignificant "gnat," an annoyance that, rationally, should pale in comparison with all the prestige that Haman enjoyed. But he invited Mordechai to live rent-free in his brain, and he allowed this "bug" to grow and grow. So much so, that Haman could not enjoy anything in his life. He was consumed by resentment toward this one guy. Maybe this explains the connection between Purim and Pesach. Pesach is the holiday of freedom, when we are to focus on the process of extricating ourselves from that which enslaves us. In our time, the most common form of "slavery" is the slavery of obsession, the "bugs" that we allow to take over our brains and control our lives. We enjoy countless blessings that people just a century ago longed for. And yet, so many people today cannot experience happiness, they lack the freedom to feel content and fulfilled, because of the "tyrant" inside their brains, because they are subjugated to some person or some annoyance. As we prepare for Pesach, let us all strive to free ourselves from the "bugs" in our brain. Let us stop allowing the insignificant annoyances to control us. Let us give ourselves the gift of freedom by refusing to turn small problems into big problems, by appreciating and enjoying all the wonderful blessings in our lives without letting them get ruined by the little things that come up along the way.

How could they do such a thing??? This is the question that jumps out at us as we read the story of חטא העגל , the sin of the golden calf, in this week's parashah . Just weeks after beholding Hashem's revelation, declaring נעשה ונשמע ("We will do and we will listen!") and receiving the Torah, how could Beneh Yisrael bow to an idol? The Gemara in Masechet Shabbat (89) answers this question for us. It tells that Beneh Yisrael knew that Moshe was supposed to spend forty days atop Mount Sinai receiving the Torah from Hashem, but they miscalculated. They thought the thirty-ninth day was the fortieth day. When afternoon came and he had yet to return, they got nervous. Then the Satan stepped in and עירבב את העולם – "confounded the world," making the world dark and seem chaotic. The Satan also showed the people an image of Moshe lying dead in a coffin. Benei Yisrael thus lost their bearings and their composure. And once people get flustered and frantic, they're prone to act irrationally and to do things they know are very wrong. If we are honest with ourselves, we will notice how true this is in our lives. So many of the mistakes we make are made when we get flustered. When we're tired, when we're not feeling well, when we're disappointed, when we're anxious, when we're aggravated – it is often in these situations when we make bad decisions, and when we say things that we know we shouldn't say. This usually happens when we become "confounded," when the world becomes dark, when life seems "chaotic," when things happen that make us tense and flustered. One of the clearest examples of this phenomenon is Kayin. He took the initiative to offer a sacrifice, but it was rejected, whereas the sacrifice offered by his brother, Hevel, was accepted. Kayin was jealous and disappointed. The Midrash says that Kayin decided that "there is no judgment and no judge," that the world is just chaotic, that everything is bad, and in his rage, he killed his brother. This is something we need to know about ourselves. When we're tired, when we're hungry, when we're under pressure – we are far more likely to get angry, to lash out, to make irresponsible decisions, to do things that we will later regret. To avoid this, we need, first and foremost, to take good care of ourselves. We need to eat properly and get enough sleep. We need to be careful not to take on on more than we can handle. And we need to try to build into our schedules activities that keep us relaxed, happy, and in good spirits so we don't end up upset, tense or aggravated. But additionally, we need to make the firm decision to try not to lose our composure, to always stay calm, cool and collected. The Megillah says, ומרדכי לא יכרע ולא ישתחווה – Mordechai neither kneeled nor bowed to Haman. He didn't budge. He was so confident, so firm in his stance, that Haman's presence had no impact on him whatsoever. Mordechai remained steadfast and resolute. This is how we should aspire to live – with faith, with confidence, with resolve, and with composure. We should be the kind of people who never "kneel," who never get rattled when things get chaotic, who have the strength and self-assurance to keep calm and level-headed under all circumstances. The Satan has many tricks up its sleeve, lots of different ways to make our world seem dark and dreary so that we lose our composure. We can't let the Satan win. We need to resolve to remain strong and confident so we always act rationally, even when things get hectic and tense.

Parashat Terumah begins with Hashem commanding that donations should be collected for the construction of the Mishkan . He tells Moshe, מאת כל איש אשר ידבנו לבו תקחו את תרומתי – the donations should be taken "from every person whose heart stirs him." Hashem wanted the donations to be received only from specific kinds of people – from those אשר ידבנו לבו , who were driven to donate by sincere motivations. Many centuries later, when the Bet Ha'mikdash was to be built, we find a similar emphasis on pristine sincerity. The pasuk (Divrei Hayamim I 22:8) says that Hashem did not allow David Ha'melech to build the Bet Ha'mikdash because he fought many wars, during which he killed many people. The Mikdash was built by his son, Shlomo, during whose reign there was peace, and who thus never fought any wars. The Malbim offers a fascinating explanation for why David's fighting wars disqualified him from building the Bet Ha'mikdash . He writes that David knew that the Bet Ha'mikdash could be built only in a time of peace, when no more wars would be fought. Therefore, if he would have built the Bet Ha'mikdash , he might have been motivated to do so by a desire to once and for all end the wars. He might have thought that the presence of the Bet Ha'mikdash would itself bring an end to the wars – and this would be part of the reason why he would want to build it. When Shlomo built the Bet Ha'mikdash , he had no agenda. His intentions were purely לשם שמיים , for Hashem's sake. If David would have built it, his motives would not have been entirely agenda-free. There would have been a tinge of self-interest involved. Whenever we embark on any significant project, the most important thing we need to help us succeed, to help us overcome the challenges that will invariably stand in our way, is לשם שמיים – sincerity, pure motivations, a genuine drive to do something valuable and meaningful for Hashem. So many people underperform and underachieve. All the accumulated baggage of the past – all their disappointments, failures and painful experiences – discourage them and hold them back. This baggage is deflating, so people don't proceed with the energy, determination, passion and conviction that they need to succeed. The key to solving this problem – which plagues so many people, and which prevents so many people from building and achieving – is לשם שמיים . A person starting a business should think about all the good he could do with a successful business – how he can help people, provide jobs, make a קידוש ה' through his interaction with different kinds of people, support his family, give tzedakah , and donate to religious institutions. A person who is looking for a marriage partner should be driven by a genuine desire to build a beautiful Torah home, a home of hesed , a home where children will be raised according to our Torah values. This is true of any ambitious project that a person wishes to start. The emotional fuel he needs to succeed is לשם שמיים – a passionate desire to do what Hashem brought him into the world to do, to accomplish what Hashem brought him into the world to accomplish, to contribute what Hashem brought him into the world to contribute. If we bring this feeling with us, then we become unstoppable, and no amount of baggage can hold us back from succeeding.

Parashat Yitro begins by telling us that Yitro, Moshe's father-in-law, came to join Beneh Yisrael at Mount Sinai. Yitro converted and became a full-fledged Jew. Rashi makes a famous comment explaining what drove Yitro to make this decision to join Beneh Yisrael . He writes that Yitro heard about two events – keri'at Yam Suf (the splitting of the sea) and the war against Amalek. What is it about these particular events that inspired Yitro? After the miracle of the sea, the people sang the שירת הים , the song of praise to Hashem that we include in our morning prayers each day. This song includes a description of how the entire world heard about the miracle and was overcome by fear of Beneh Yisrael . שמעו עמים ירגזון – all the nations heard and were frightened. Yitro was struck by the fact that just several weeks later, Amalek came along and launched an attack on Beneh Yisrael , the nation that they were terrified of. Amalek's attack showed Yitro how quickly people can change, how people can be so inspired and motivated to do the right thing, and then just a few weeks later do just the opposite. This led Yitro to decide to join Beneh Yisrael so he would be together with good people whose influence would keep him on the right path. The Gemara in Masechet Zevahim brings a second opinion as to what led Yitro to join Beneh Yisrael . This opinion says that Yitro came to Mount Sinai after Matan Torah , as it was this event – Hashem giving Beneh Yisrael the Torah – that inspired him. According to this opinion, Yitro was struck by the opposite phenomenon – by how people can grow so quickly. When Beneh Yisrael were slaves in Egypt, they had fallen to the lowest spiritual depths. And then, just seven weeks later, they were at the level where they could behold Hashem's revelation and receive the Torah. Yitro wanted to be part of a people that could undergo this kind of process of spiritual growth. Both opinions are rooted in reality – people have the capacity to change quickly and drastically, in both directions. Never has this been as true as in today's day and age. Technology exposes people to the worst and the best that humanity has to offer. A person can be pulled down to the lowest depths by what he sees, reads and watches online. But he can also grow. I have heard many stories of people who became religiously observant after being inspired by Torah material accessed online. This reality accounts for the diversity that we see in our community, even within families. So many families today have members on drastically different levels of observance. This is because today, more than ever, it is so easy to change in every which direction. In one of the most famous passages in Rashi's commentary to the Humash, he observes that the Torah in our parashah speaks of Beneh Yisrael encamping at Mount Sinai in the singular form – ויחן שם ישראל (19:2). Instead of saying, "They encamped" ( ויחנו ), the Torah says, ויחן , as though speaking of one person. Rashi explains that the people came to Mount Sinai כאיש בלב אחד – "as one person, with one heart." In order to receive the Torah, they needed to be unified and together. The diversity in our community challenges us to find unity despite our differences. Nobody should feel the need to change who he is or how he lives for the sake of family members or other people in the community who are very different from him. At the same time, however, we must find a way to make it work, a way to be together כאיש אחד בלב אחד , to care for, love and respect others even though they are drastically different than us. Each of us is on a journey, and no two people's journeys are identical. When we realize this, we will find it easier to relate to and connect with people who are different – because we will see that we really aren't that different, as we're all on a journey of discovering who we want to be and determining how we want to live. Let us each commit firmly to adhere to our beliefs, values and principles, without compromising at all, while committing also to love and respect those who are different, so we become a strong, unified nation that is worthy of the Torah and of Hashem's ongoing presence.

We read in Parashat Bo of how Hashem told Moshe and Aharon the detailed laws of the korban pesach (Pesach sacrifice) which they were to teach Beneh Yisrael in preparation for Yetziat Mitzrayim . The people were to prepare a sheep for the sacrifice already several days before, and then sacrifice it on the 14th of Nissan, the afternoon before Hashem brought the plague of the firstborn which led to the people's departure from Egypt. The Torah concludes this section by saying: וילכו ויעשו בני ישראל כאשר ציווה ה' את משה ואהרון כן עשו – " Beneh Yisrael went ahead and did as G-d commanded Moshe and Aharon; so they did" (12:28). Rashi points out that the last two words of this pasuk – כן עשו ("so they did") – seem unnecessary. After telling us that the people did as they instructed, why did the Torah then repeat, "so they did"? Rashi writes that this refers to Moshe and Aharon. They, too, fulfilled Hashem's commands and prepared the sheep for the korban pesach . We must wonder, does this really answer the question? Would any of us have thought that Moshe and Aharon, who received these instructions from Hashem and conveyed them to the people, would not have obeyed them? Did this need to be said? The Brisker Rav explained that often, people who are involved in things excuse themselves from other things. When a person runs an organization or project, he thinks that this is enough to discharge his duties, and he does not have to do the "little things" that everyone else has to do. People involved in fundraising for a yeshiva, for example, might feel exempt from learning Torah, since they are doing very important work helping other people learn Torah. People who donate money to a synagogue, or who volunteer on one of the shul's committees, might feel that they don't have to actually show up to the tefillot on a regular basis, since they are making sure that other people can come to pray. This is why the Torah needed to emphasize כן עשו – that Moshe and Aharon prepared their own sheep for the korban pesach . They didn't exempt themselves, figuring that since they were responsible for getting the people to perform the mitzvah they did not need to perform it themselves. They understood that just like everyone else needed to prepare a sacrifice, so did they. Many adults find it difficult to feel inspired, to feel religiously motivated. When they were young, especially if they learned in yeshiva or seminary, it was relatively easy to get fired up, to be excited about Torah and to want to connect to Hashem. But when people get older and have families that they need to take care of and support, this becomes much more difficult. But we can't make excuses. We need to do the best we can at all stages of life. Even when we're doing very important things, such as raising a family and getting involved in all kinds of programs and projects, we can't forget about our own religious growth. Even when we're busy with other people, we have to be busy also with ourselves. Moshe and Aharon weren't too important to prepare their own korban pesach . None of us are too important to worry about our own mitzvah obligations and our relationship with Hashem.

In Parashat Shemot, Hashem speaks to Moshe for the very first time. As we know, Moshe's initial prophecy takes place at a unique site – in a burning bush in the desert. Moshe saw that a bush was on fire, but it wasn't being consumed. And it was from there that Hashem spoke to him. His first words to Moshe were, "Take off your shoes." Hashem informed Moshe that the place where he was standing was אדמת קודש , sacred ground, and so he needed to remove his shoes. He then proceeded to command Moshe to return to Egypt and lead Beneh Yisrael out of bondage. What is this all about? What is the meaning of the burning bush? And why was it important for Moshe to remove his shoes to show deference to this "sacred ground"? For years, Moshe Rabbenu did not believe that there was any chance of Beneh Yisrael leaving Egypt. For two reasons. The more obvious reason is that they were enslaved and oppressed by the powerful Egyptian empire. They had no power at all. There seemed to be no hope at all of leaving. But secondly, Moshe did not think the people could ever be worthy of redemption. As we quote each year at the seder , the prophet Yehezkel (16:7) described how Beneh Yisrael in Egypt were ערום ועריה – "bare," bereft of merit. They were not performing mitzvot . They fought with one another. They were in spiritual decline. Moshe did not see how they could ever reach the point where they deserved to be brought out of Egypt. Hashem's initial prophecy to Moshe addressed both these mistaken assumptions. First, he showed Moshe that a bush on fire could survive. Even though Beneh Yisrael were "ablaze," subjected to oppression and persecution, they would still remain intact. They would never be "consumed," no matter how many times their enemies try to destroy them. Secondly, Hashem drew Moshe's attention to the אדמת קודש , the "sacred ground" on which Beneh Yisrael tread. They were the descendants of Avraham Yitzhak and Yaakov. They were bound to Hashem by an eternal covenant. Their capacity for kedushah cannot ever be lost. Moshe didn't see this potential for spiritual greatness, but Hashem did. And so Hashem assured Moshe that Beneh Yisrael were still sacred, even though they seemed "bare" without any merits and without any kedushah . Each morning, as soon as we open our eyes, we recite the famous prayer of מודה אני , thanking Hashem for restoring our souls. Every night when we go to bed, we entrust our soul to Hashem, and each morning, He returns it to us. He returns it to us despite the fact that, very often, we give it back to Him "damaged," tainted by our sins. If a fellow borrows his friend's car and returns it to him with a scratch – and then he borrows it again and returns it the next day with a huge dent – the friend is not likely to continue lending him the car. Yet, Hashem continues "lending" us soul every morning, without fail, no matter how many times we "dented" it, no matter how many mistakes we've made. We make many mistakes – but Hashem keeps giving us another day, then another, and another, and another. The reason is that, as the מודה אני prayer concludes, רבה אמונתך – Hashem has great faith. He has faith in us. He believes in us. He sees our potential for greatness, even if we don't. He restores our soul every morning because He knows how great we can be, how much we can achieve, how much we can contribute, how much we can give to the world. Sometimes we forget that we are standing on אדמת קודש , on sacred ground, at every moment of our lives. If we are alive, this means that Hashem believes in our potential for kedushah , for spiritual greatness. Having this awareness should change the way we live. It should change the way we see ourselves, and it should change the way we look at our day. No matter what is happening, and no matter what happened yesterday or the day before, we are standing on "sacred ground," we have the potential to do something great. If we didn't, then Hashem would not have restored our souls this morning. Hashem sees what we don't. He sees our potential. He sees our abilities. He sees the holiness inside us. He sees how much we can give. We should never doubt ourselves – because Hashem never doubts us, not for a moment, ever.

I have never met anyone who likes being told what to do, who likes when his behavior is critiqued and is told to change. Yet, this is something we all do to others. Spouses are often telling each other what they should and shouldn't do. And of course parents have the responsibility to educate their children so they can learn the right way to live. The problem becomes how we can expect the behavior to change if they – like us! – don't like to be corrected or criticized. If a child's instinct when hearing criticism is to defend himself or herself, then what should a parent do? Perhaps we can learn the answer from an example of effective communication found in the beginning of Parashat Vayigash. The parashah begins with Yehuda's famous plea to Yosef, the vizier of Egypt. Binyamin, the youngest of the brothers was framed as a thief, and when Yosef's royal goblet was found in his bag, Yosef ordered that he remain in Egypt as his slave, while the other brothers return home. Yehuda, however, had made a solemn promise to their father, Yaakov, that he would personally guarantee Binyamin's safe return home. And so Yehuda came before Yosef and made an impassioned speech, begging Yosef to allow him to remain in Binyamin's stead. In this speech, Yehuda reviewed all the events that led to the current crisis, recalling how he and his brothers came to purchase grain, how Yosef demanded that they bring their youngest brother, how their father at first refused, due to his fear that something might happen to Binyamin, and how Yehuda had personally assured Yaakov that he would bring Binyamin home. Finally, the Torah says, at the end of Yehuda's speech, Yosef could no longer control himself – לא יכול יוסף להתאפק – and he revealed his identity to his brothers. He then told them to go back and bring their father and their families to Egypt where he would support them during the harsh famine. What changed Yosef's heart? What was the "trigger" that led him to relent? The answer, it seems, is that he was affected mainly by Yehuda's final words: כי איך אעלה אבי והנער איננו אתי – "For how can I go back to my father if the youngster is not with me?" Yehuda made a lengthy speech, but this had no effect. He was effective in changing Yosef's heart only when he asked a pointed question: "What should I do? What options do I have?" Let us try to apply this to a typical parent/child conflict. A girl wants to go out with her friends, but she has a test the next day and needs to study. Her parents want her to stay home and prepare for the exam. They could give a long speech about how irresponsible it is to go out the night before a test, how she needs to be more organized, how she should have studied days earlier but didn't, how she'll have other opportunities to get together with her friends, and so on. But a speech is not going to work. A far more effective approach would be to ask the pointed question, "What do you want?" They could acknowledge her predicament, express understanding of her legitimate desire to be with her friends, validate her feelings of disappointment, and then ask, "So what do you suggest? Do you want to fail the test? Do you want to study first and then go to spend a few minutes with them? What do you want to do?" Lecturing is not effective. Posing simple questions often can be. The mistake so many parents make is that they think they can give speeches, or they can harshly criticize bad behavior at the heat of the moment, and this will somehow have an effect on the child's behavior. Parents need to remember that angry rants make things worse, not better. They only lead to more defiance. Yehuda's lengthy speech didn't help. He succeeded only when he framed the situation in clear, concise and practical terms. כי איך אעלה אל אבי והנער איננו איתי . As we said, nobody likes to be reprimanded or told what to do. So instead of criticizing and expressing anger, let's keep it short, to the point, and with practicality, so that our children, or whoever it is we're speaking to, will react the way we want them to.