Shabbat to Share

Food For the Soul

Walk tall

Much has been said and written about the galut mentality, the subservience felt by generations of Jews living in the Diaspora. As second-class citizens for so many generations in Eastern Europe and in the Arab countries, Jews, allegedly, came to lose their self-esteem. Finally, in our own time, the old ghetto Jew would be replaced with a proud, strong, independent Israeli. Jews would now walk tall.

In the Parsha Eikev, Moses reminds his people never to forget that it was G‑d who took them out of Egypt and who led them through the wilderness into the Promised Land. And he describes the wilderness as “that great and awesome desert.” The wilderness before we reach the Promised Land represents the state of exile. And the problem with this wilderness is that we are impressed with it. In our eyes it is “great.” The big, wide world out there is great, powerful, impressive and all too overwhelming to the Jew.

We forget that the real galut mentality is not confined to those living in an eighteenth-century ghetto. The real exile is the exile within, the exile inside our own heads and hearts. The exile in considering the non-Jewish world to be so great. When we attach so much significance to the outside world, then we are still living in a state of exile and with a galut mindset, no matter where we may be geographically.

Remember that the first step in leaving the exile is to stop being impressed by it. In order to redeem our land and our people, we must first redeem our own souls and our own self-respect. May we never forget where our true strength lies. When we remember who took us out of Egypt and led us through the wilderness, and who is truly the great and awesome Being of Beings, then we will be able to truly walk tall and stand proud forever.

From an article by Rabby Yossy Goldman

Shabbat Shalom

Ethics of the Fathers

During the summer months, from the Shabbat after Passover until the Shabbat before Rosh Hashahah, we study a weekly chapter of the Talmud’s Ethics of the Fathers (“Avot”) each Shabbat afternoon; this week we study Chapter Four. Included in this chapter is the wisdom of Ben Zoma, who said “Who is wise? One who learns from every man…Who is strong? One who overpowers his inclinations…Who is rich? One who is happy with his lot….Who is honorable? One who honors his fellows..”

Mind Over Matter

Free choice

The primary distinguishing feature which sets the human being apart from all other creatures is the free choice of action which the Creator bestowed upon us.

We can use this Divine gift either for self-destruction and the destruction of everything around us; or we can choose the right way of life, which would elevate ourselves and our environment to the highest possible perfection.

The Lubavitcher Rebbe

Moshiach Thoughts


Within each thing we behold, the moshiach dwells, like the embryo waiting to break out of its egg. In the rhythm of a dandelion shivering in the breeze, in the eyes of the children we raise, in the goals we make in life, in the machines we use and the art we create, in the air we breathe and the blood rushing through our veins.

When the world was made, the sages say, the moshiach was the wind hovering over all that would be.

Today, those who know to listen can hear his voice beckoning, “Do not let go of me after all these ages! For the fruit of your labor and the labor of your holy mothers and fathers is about to ripen.”

The listening alone is enough to crack the shell of the egg.

The Lubavitcher Rebbe

Have I got a Story

No free rides

The age of 2 has notoriously been dubbed “The Terrible Twos” as toddlers begin to assert their independence. As if on cue, my sweet granddaughter has become adamant about doing things “all by herself.” One of her most popular refrains is “Self do it!” Her solution for tasks that she’d prefer to push off, such as bed time, is simply, “Mommy, go away!”

But while one minute she is stridently trying to do things on her own, the next minute she’ll eagerly snuggle up to have a book read to her. She will declare an appreciative “tank you” when I dress her doll after her own frustrating attempt, but will stubbornly refuse to hold my hand while climbing the staircase. The look of victory in her eyes after she reaches the top is priceless.

From about six months of age, the seed for independence is sewn and continues to grow, for some of us fiercely. Independence doesn’t mean that we don’t need others, but rather, that we contribute our fair share, our own efforts, to our relationships and life’s circumstances.

In this week’s Torah portion, we read the second paragraph of the Shema prayer, while last week’s Torah portion contained the verses of its first paragraph. We are obligated to recite the Shema, a central prayer, every morning and evening. It contains fundamental beliefs about loving and serving G‑d, learning and teaching Torah, and practicing mitzvot. Much of the second paragraph, however, seems to repeat the first, with a few important differences.

The second chapter speaks about the reward and punishment we will earn by following the commandments, whereas the first leaves this out entirely. In addition, the first chapter addresses the Jewish people in the second person singular (you), as individuals, while the second chapter speaks to us in the second person plural (you, collectively).

There are two aspects to cultivating our relationship with G‑d, and each is reflective in the respective paragraph of the Shema. The first is G‑d’s gift of connection to us, without which we would never be able to have a relationship with Him. The second is our efforts and struggles, using our finite capabilities—our intellectual and emotional selves—to reach higher and come closer to G‑d.

Reward is only mentioned in the second paragraph because by definition, a reward is something that must be earned by our own merits, not bestowed as a gift. Only once we sweat for something can we really experience the joy of its accomplishment. Moreover, by struggling to improve our moral character, we become fuller beings. In working on any new endeavor, we develop other parts of our personality—resilience, determination, empathy, generosity. We become not singular beings with one gift, but pluralistic, multidimensional beings.

The second chapter of the Shema teaches us that while the fruits of our labors may be less glorious and less brilliant, they are more real. Just ask my 2-year-old granddaughter.

By Chana Weisberg

Food For the Soul

The constant connection

Unfortunately, for many people, only when faced with hardships or tragedy do they examine their existence. At times of maximum vulnerability, people tend to gravitate to the sanctuary of their faith, hoping to ride out the hard times under Judaism’s shelter. This time of crisis becomes the impetus for a rapprochement with their G‑d.

We read in the Parsha Va’etchanan the first paragraph of the Shema, the basis credo of Jewish belief: “Hear O Israel, the L-rd, Our G‑d, the L-rd is one.” The verses continue to describe our love for G‑d and some of the basic commandments. Twice a day, “night and morning,” we are instructed to reaffirm that commitment. This obligation is fulfilled by the recitation of the Shema.

I would like to posit an alternative explanation for this verse. The love of G‑d is the basis of our faith; as a feeling of connection to one’s Creator drives one to live up to His religious expectations. This connection must be a constant, both during the blackness of night, when all is dark and turning to G‑d for succor comes naturally, and under the bright lights of daytime when the average man feels no need of reassurance.

Connecting to G‑d during the hard times comes easily, but how many have the intelligence to hop off the gravy train while the good times still roll? Don’t wait for the cold shower of tragedy to shock you into conformity, the verse advises; reconnect to G‑d now, during the good times and take pleasure in choosing your path not under duress but because it is the right thing to do.

From an article by Rabbi Elisha Greenbaum

Shabbat Shalom

“Comfort My people”

The haftorah following the Torah reading on Shabbat usually reflects a topic in the Torah reading. The centerpiece of the reading, Va’etchanan,is the Ten Commandments. Yet the haftorah is from Isaiah, and it is about comfort. “Comfort My people, comfort them . . .” says G‑d to the prophets. After destruction comes rebirth and rebuilding. After the destruction of the first Temple came the building of the second. After the destruction of the second Temple will come the advent of the Messiah and the building of the third Temple. The sense of comfort after the darkness of destruction is so strong that in fact this is only the first of a series of seven haftarot, week by week, all with the theme of the promise of redemption.

From an article by Dr. Tali Loewenthal

Mind Over Matter

How to become free

In every situation, we have the ability to be free. Even in this dark exile, where the world seems against us. Even in our personal lives, where we each have difficulties, suffering and pain. It is our choices that express our free nature –not our predicaments. In every situation, we find a way to free our essence, our Jewishness. Today, this seems harder than ever, as there is great temptation to be like our non-Jewish neighbors. But we have been there before, and if you try, Hashem will surely help you free yourself from your Egypt. On a deeper level: Each of us has the ability to free ourselves from our current level and reach higher plateaus. Ask yourself: How can I improve myself? How can I get closer to G_d? Then you become free.

From an article by Rabbi Yitzi Hurwitz

Moshiach Thoughts

Love His children

Rabbi Yitzi Hurwitz writes, “…realize that to get closer to G‑d, you need to love his children, including those you deem less observant or more observant than yourself. Loving each other is the key to our redemption; it is how we break the chains of this exile. Perhaps that is why it is so difficult. Nevertheless, we will overcome this as well. May it happen soon.”

Have I got a Story

Kindness, positivity and gratitude

When I was a little girl, I used to love hearing my grandmother retell a Yiddish folktale about a miserable couple living in their cramped quarters with their many children. They went to seek rabbinical advice and were surprised to hear that to solve the issue they need to bring a goat inside the house. The family was confused, but did as they were told by the sage. With this addition, they became even more miserable. The family returned to clarify what to do and astonishingly were advised to bring a sheep into the house. This went on until they had an entire barn inside the house. Finally, the house had become utterly unlivable and they went to beg the rabbi for help, and only then did the rabbi tell them to let all the animals out of the house. The couple did so and was ecstatic to be living in their now-spacious-feeling dwelling with just the family. Clearly, they were back to the beginning, but with a new perspective.

My grandmother taught me about life by sharing meaningful stories such as this one. Life can always get worse, yet we have an opportunity to transcend our limitations and look at the bright side of things, regardless of circumstances.

Some might say that the death of a 95-year-old woman should not be shattering. Yet a lifetime of wisdom could not prepare me for the loss of my grandmother, Zelda bas David, who passed away on May 6, 2020. Her vibrant spirit transcends her actual years on this earth. How can a heart so full of goodness and resilience just simply stop beating?​​ My grandmother’s life taught me that as a container is defined by its contents, life is identified by how one spends precious hours, days, years and decades.

Zelda was born a lifetime ago in July of 1924 in the former Soviet Union. The world was recuperating from the Great War before confronting the horrors of World War II and the Holocaust. Her mother died in childbirth when Zelda was just 3 years old. Zelda and her two sisters were raised by her loving father, who worked around the clock to feed his three little motherless daughters.

My grandmother was the kindest person I have ever known. Perhaps people who lived through wars, starvation and poverty had a special passion for giving to others. Zelda often repeated the story about a little boy sitting on the stoop in the neighborhood. It was the early 1930s; these were the years of Stalin’s oppression and unbearable hunger. The boy was covered in lice, begging for food. Zelda’s heart was racing as she ran inside the house yelling, “Papa, I want to give my day’s ration of bread to the poor child outside.” Her own hunger couldn’t stop her, as she snatched a piece of bread and ran into the street. The boy grabbed the bread with both hands, stuffing it into his mouth. Zelda often thought about that boy, remembering how hungry and weak he was.

Later in life, Zelda became a doctor, saving countless lives. She married and had two daughters. Then, at 34, she became a widow when her husband died in a horrific drowning accident. A year after, her youngest daughter, who was 8, year fell off a slide and suffered a traumatic brain injury, becoming handicapped for life. A motherless widow with a sick child, she continued to march on through her personal obstacle course. Zelda spent 12 years of her life in and out of hospitals, doing everything possible to save her daughter’s life. Despite the unimaginable struggles, her spirit remained unbroken.

During these complicated and uncertain times, before I fall asleep I imagine my grandmother reminding me to learn to narrate my life with positivity and gratitude. I hear her voice reassuring me that “all the memories and experiences that have been accumulated along the way can be rechanneled into a vehicle of light and kindness.”

Just as Zelda dressed up her challenging life into a colorful rainbow of joy and gratitude, I hope and pray that all of us will emerge victorious from this challenging period, embracing kindness and empathy.  

Condensed from an article by Sofya Sara Esther Tamarkin

Food For the Soul

The future is in our hands

The Parsha Devarim (Deuteronomy) begins the last of the five books of the Torah. In it Moses speaks directly to the Jewish people, recalling the major events and laws that are recorded in the Torah’s other four books. This repetition was so important that Moses dedicated the last days of his life to it. Clearly, it was necessary to insuring the future of his beloved nation . 

We often hear talk about the “Jewish future.” How will we overcome the threat of assimilation and inspire the younger generation to care about their heritage? There are task forces, studies and conferences all focusing on this issue.

Inspired by the book of Devarim, I’d like to suggest that the best way to insure a Jewish future is through Jewish education. The first choice is a Jewish day school, which provides young people with all the knowledge and skills they need to live as Jews in the modern world. The second choice is an after-school or Sunday Hebrew school.

Let’s consider the facts: The values of Judaism enrich us; they provide us with a moral center, spiritual depth and purpose. They link us to thousands of years of tradition that reach back to Mount Sinai, when G‑d gave the Torah to the Jewish people. It’s hard to think of anything that could be more important.

Perhaps Moses spent his last days on earth repeating lessons he had already taught to underscore the necessity of education. The chain of history is only as strong as the weakest link. We need to ensure that the next generation remains connected to their heritage and understands the depth and richness that Judaism has to offer. Education is the key. The future is in our hands. 

Condensed from an article by Rabbi David Eliezrie

Shabbat Shalom

Shabbat of Vision

July 25 (4 Av) is called Shabbat Chazon (“Shabbat of Vision”) after the opening words of the day’s reading from the prophets (“haftara”). On this Shabbat, say the Chassidic masters, we are granted a vision of the Third Temple and are empowered to break free of our present state of galut (exile and spiritual displacement) and bring about the Redemption and the rebuilding of the Temple.

Note: Tisha B’Av occurs on July 29-30 (9 Av). This is when we mourn the destruction of the Holy Temple and our launch into a still-ongoing exile. It is marked by fasting and other practices. Please consult a competent halachic authority for details.

Mind Over Matter

What is beauty?

Beauty is not a thing; it is an experience. It is concerning the object of beauty that wise Solomon says, “Charm is false and beauty is vain.” But in the experiencing of beauty we open a window upon the infinite that is synonymous with the experience of truth.

Throw out the chaff of the static object and focus upon the inner experience, seeking a beauty that will last forever, and you will find true beauty—and beautiful truth.

And ugliness? Ugliness is when the mind takes one look and gives up.

From an article by Rabbi Tzvi Freeman

Moshiach Thoughts

How to face the future

“It is true”, writes Dr. Tali Loewenthal, “that we have many times seen many tears in our long past. In recent centuries, and in recent decades, we have also seen much confusion. One may indeed wonder, reading the daily newspapers, what does the future hold? Yet our sages are clear in their view: the future is filled with joy.

The key message as to how we should face this radiant future, prepare for it and make it happen, is expressed by the concluding verse of this week’s haftorah (reading from the prophets): “Zion will be redeemed through justice [Torah], and its captives [will go free] through charity”(Isaiah 1:27). Through Torah study, teaching justice in all aspects of life, and good deeds such as charity, we can make the glorious future, the goal of Judaism, for us and all humanity, happen now.”

Have I got a Story

Are you at a crossroads?

In the beginning of our Parsha, Moses recalls how G‑d had said to the Children of Israel, “You have surrounded this mountain long enough. Turn away, and take your journey…” (Deuteronomy 1:6). The mountain is Sinai, scene of the revelation of G‑d’s wisdom and will to man. Yet G‑d tells us, “You’ve been here long enough. Move on!”

We must always be prepared to move forward, to carry on to the next stage. To take what we have and to propel it forward. How are we to navigate a clear path, through the confusion that is everyday life? How do we reconcile this with our past? How do we utilize our life experience, both individual and collective?

A young boy was traveling from Jerusalem to the Galilee. He arrived at a four-way crossroads and discovered, to his horror, that the crossroads sign, with its arrows pointing the way to the cities lying in the four directions had fallen down. Now he had no way to know which road to take to reach his destination.

What was he to do?

But he knew where he was coming from — Jerusalem. By arranging the sign so that Jerusalem pointed to the path he had just come from, he was able to figure out which way to go.

This is the key. Moving forward is essential but in order to do so we must understand where we are coming from. The Torah is our collective life experience. Our heritage and our history are our signposts. Using this as our starting point, knowing where we are coming from, we are able to get to where we are going, on the correct path, without straying or getting lost.  Yes, progress is an inevitable (and even good) thing. Nonetheless, it must be tempered with a clear understanding and appreciation of where we started out from and what our framework of reference is. In this way, we will be able to chart a clear and bright future, dealing with the challenges of the modern world head on, using progress in a positive manner, to reach our final destination.

By Rabbi Mordechai Wollenberg

Food For the Soul

The need for boundaries

Boundaries help us define ourselves, nurture our well-being and empower us to more accurately navigate our life’s journeys. Boundaries need regular maintenance, and there are times when we actively need to defend our boundaries against intrusion. This week, we read a double Torah portion: Matot and Massei. Matot has the double meaning of being a line or branch, as well as a tribe. Matot are those branches of wood that are cut off from the tree that have hardened. Similarly, matot also refer to the tribes who have developed into their own individual personalities.  Matot begins with Moses speaking to the heads of the tribes. Massei, on the other hand, means journeys and recounts the journeys of the Jewish people from Egypt to the Promised Land.

Part of growing and maturing into your own independent self is finding your backbone, knowing your principles and parameters. We need to know where to draw our line, when to say a firm and unyielding, “No! This is not who I am or who I want to be.” We need to distinguish between what is helping us get closer to our “Promised Land,” and what is just serving as distractions or detours. The portions of Matot and Massei are always read during the Three Weeks, the time period from the 17th of Tammuz until the ninth of Av (Tisha B’Av), when we mourn the destruction of the Temple and the onset of our exile.

Exile is not only about being forced to leave our land. Exile is about being thrown into a world where values and morals are so spineless that they get swept with the wind, and change with every new whim or societal trend. This week’s double Torah portion reminds us that as we journey through our national exile—just as we search for direction along the path of our unique personal journey—we need to define resilient boundaries. When ethical and personal parameters keep blurring, it’s time for us to take out our metaphorical markers and draw definitive lines.

By Chana Weisberg

Shabbat Shalom

Shabbat Mevarchim

This Shabbat is Shabbat Mevarchim (“the Shabbat that blesses” the new month): a special prayer is recited blessing the Rosh Chodesh (“Head of the Month”) of the upcoming month Av (also called “Menachem Av”), which falls on Wednesday of next week. Prior to the blessing, we announce the precise time of the molad, the “birth” of the new moon.  It is a Chabad custom to recite the entire book of Psalms before morning prayers, and to conduct farbrengens (chassidic gatherings) in the course of the Shabbat.

Mind Over Matter

Spiritual or ethical?

The question was once asked, “Which is more important –Torah precepts or ethical concepts?” The answer is: the one is included in the other. Torah observance must include ethical and moral behavior. Indeed, large sections of Jewish Law deal with fair practice, civil law, slander and libel, contracts, promises, and so much more. The Torah is our guidebook not just in “spiritual” and “G_dly” matters but in mundane, everyday matters. It is in our day-to-day material lives that we are specifically able to elevate our surroundings through adherence to the ethics of Sinai.

Adapted and condensed from an article by Rabbi  Mordechai Wallenberg

Moshiach Thoughts

 A marriage of opposites

All the cosmos came to be because G‑d chose to invest His very essence into a great drama: the drama of a lowly world becoming the home of an infinite G‑d. A marriage of opposites, the fusion of finite and infinite, light and darkness, heaven and earth.

We are the players in that drama, the cosmic matchmakers. With our every action, we have the power to marry our mundane world to the Infinite and Unknowable.

Rabbi Tzvi Freeman

Have I got a Story

See the potential!

I recently visited an apartment that was under construction. Tools were strewn about, nails were poking out from the floorboards, and doors were missing. It was a total mess. Despite the obvious rawness of the environment, I could not help but think about the potential this apartment had. In my mind’s eye, I placed the china closet against one wall, chose my favorite color to paint the dining-room walls and imagined how much more spacious it would look if one of the walls were moved over just a little bit.

I have seen mansions and castles, none of which fascinated me to this extent. I wondered what it was about this construction site that drew me so. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that it was the potential of its incompleteness that allowed me to use my creativity. The bareness was looking for a designer, and that designer could be me.

The three weeks between the 17th of Tammuz and the ninth of Av are a time when the Jewish people mourn the destruction of the Temple. The first nine days of the month of Av are an even more intense time, as we draw closer to the day when the devastating event took place. We abstain from listening to music, holding weddings and buying new clothes. We avoid things that will make us happy, so that we can truly absorb and integrate the loss of the Temple into our modern-day psyche. Interestingly, the Lubavitcher Rebbe also encouraged the learning of the laws of the service in the Temple during this period. While in exile, we pray instead of offering sacrifices. Wouldn’t it be more relevant to study laws that pertain to our present-day service?

The prophet Ezekiel felt similarly when G_d appeared to him during the Babylonian exile, following the destruction of the First Temple. G_d instructed him to tell the Jews about the building of the Second Temple. Ezekiel said to G_d: “Your children are in exile; they cannot build the Temple.” G_d responded: “Just because they are in exile, should the Temple not be built?”

Rabbi Akiva, a sage who lived during the time of the Second Temple, was able to see the destruction for what it really was, even while living in an intensely challenging time. He was once walking in Jerusalem with a group of fellow sages soon after the Temple was destroyed. They passed the Temple Mount and saw foxes roaming freely there. All the sages cried at the site of the desecration, but Rabbi Akiva laughed.

When confronted about his seemingly inappropriate reaction, he said: “Now that the prophecy of the destruction of the Temple has come true, surely the prophecies regarding the rebuilding of the Temple will come true, too.” He saw the destruction as an event in a sequence, allowing something even greater and more eternal to happen. He was able to celebrate destruction since he could envision a truer and even more beautiful reality. In his mind’s eye, the Temple was already being rebuilt.

Exile may seem to be our reality. We live in a construction site strewn with tools and nails. In this setting, however, there is both exile and redemption. In exile, we both mourn the destruction of the first two Temples and build the Third Temple. As we mourn the destruction, we acknowledge the beauty that has been lost –yet here we stand, on the threshold of a new reality. Let us celebrate destruction so that we can embrace our ability to build a greater future.

Condensed from an article by Chaya Strasberg