The Boomerang Effect

On the last day of Yom Tov, I gave over the following story in my Beit HaKenesset. Enjoy!

Rabbi Yechezkel Landau, author of the Noda BiYehudah, was the renowned Rabbi of Prague. One cold winter's night, he noticed a poor Gentile boy, crying and wandering through the Jewish neighborhood. The lad looked very distraught, and so the kindly Rabbi approached him and asked him what was the matter. Drying his tears, the boy began to pour out his heart to the man who was nice enough to be concerned for his plight.

"My father is a baker," he began. "Ever since my mother died and he remarried, my life has been a living misery. They stay indoors, where it is warm, and bake all day. Then they give me a basket of bread and pastries and force me to go door to door, in freezing weather, selling their products. Woe to me, if I don't sell every last one. My stepmother is free to beat me badly for not fulfilling my mission properly.

"The truth is that I've gotten used to this, more or less. But today, a catastrophe occurred. After spending the whole day selling all of the baked goods, I prepared to finally go home when I realized that all of the money I earned is missing; either it was lost or stolen, I'm not sure. Now I am afraid to face them and receive the punishment they will surely mete out on me."

The Rabbi was pained at the abuse of the child and the suffering of a human being. "How much did you have?' he asked the boy. "Twenty gold pieces," he replied. Rabbi Landau immediately gave the boy the entire amount plus an extra dinar for himself. "Before you go home, go into a grocery store and buy yourself something to eat." The boy thanked the Rabbi profusely and ran about his way.

Many years passed. Rabbi Landau had long forgotten the kindness he had shown to a suffering lad. But the boy never forgot the stranger who had helped him in his time of need. It was past midnight, the eve of the Seventh day of Passover when a young man knocked on the door of the Rabbi of Prague. The Rabbi did not recognize his strange visitor but let him into his home.

"You may not remember me," began the unexpected guest, "but I have never forgotten you. Tonight I have come to repay you the kindness you bestowed upon me years ago when you gave me the money I had lost and saved me from my cruel parents. Now I have come to save you from them too.

"I'm sure you are well aware of the hatred the local priest has towards the Jewish residents of Prague. This year he came up with a diabolical plan to murder all of your People in one day. He is aware of the Jewish custom to eat bread as soon as possible after your Passover holiday. Since your bakeries have none yet, all of you buy a loaf of bread from the non-Jewish bakeries in town. The Priest called a meeting of all of the bakers, including my parents, and promised them absolution for all of their sins if they would poison those breads intended for the Jews of Prague. The deathly loaves will bring tragedy to your people unless you think of a way to save them. I put my own life in danger by coming to warn you but I knew that I owed it to you for the kindness you bestowed upon me when I was in trouble. And now I must leave quickly before anyone realizes that I am missing and I may be caught."

The stunned Rabbi thanked the boy from the depths of his heart and began to think of a plan to save the Jewish community. On the Eighth day of Passover, he called the leaders of the community for an urgent meeting. Within minutes, everyone was assembled at the Rabbi's home, curious as to the urgency of the call in the midst of their Yom Tov rest. Rabbi Landau told them that something terrible had happened and that they must summon the heads of all of the households to the main synagogue before the holiday ends. He stressed that they must be sure that every one of them attends this urgent gathering. The leaders of the community were even more anxious to know what was so crucial, but they rushed to do their Rabbi's bidding. Within an hour, the entire group waited to be addressed by their venerable Sage.

"My beloved friends," the Rabbi began with a trembling voice. "A terrible thing has happened. Actually, I am embarrassed to admit it, but I have no choice. Although the Rabbis are experts in the Jewish calendar, this year, somehow, we made a terrible miscalculation and we began the Passover holiday a day earlier. Thank G-d, we caught the mistake in time, and we are able to prevent a catastrophe from occurring. I called you all together to inform you that today is not the last day of Passover but next to last. Everyone is to observe another day and no one is to eat any chametz (leavened products) tonight, G-d forbid. Those who listen to the Torah, as espoused by the Rabbis, will save their lives from disaster, in this world and the World-to-Come."

The town of Prague was all abuzz. It was unthinkable that such a thing could actually happen. Another day of Yom Tov meant another day of not working and earning their meager living. But everyone knew that they must listen to the Rabbi no matter how uncomfortable the situation might be.

That night, the Gentiles of Prague set up stands in the Jewish neighborhood and waited for the unsuspecting Jews to buy their deadly goods. But to their great surprise, not one Jew came to buy a thing. They inquired as to this strange phenomenon, and were informed that the Rabbi had extended the Holiday for another day. The bakers complained to the Mayor of Town that the Rabbi had caused them a tremendous loss and should be taken to task for it. The Mayor summoned Rabbi Landau to immediately and presented him with the bakers' complaint. The Rav acknowledged his "guilt" and promised to pay for all of the products if they were brought to him immediately, in front of the Mayor. The bakers rushed to bring everything they had prepared for the Jews and displayed it before the Rabbi. Rabbi Landau then turned to the Mayor and argued, "If I am to buy all these food products, I should surely be allowed to inspect them first and make sure that they are edible, shouldn't I? The Mayor agreed that he certainly had that right. But the bakers began to tremble when the Rabbi suggested that they themselves each take a bite first. Against their will, they had to admit that the entire stock was poisoned, by instruction of the evil Priest.

Now, everyone understood why Hashem had sent the poor, Gentile boy to the Rabbi of Prague, so many years ago. The Rabbi had cooperated with the Hashgachah and had done what was right, and today he had saved his entire community from tragedy

Parashat Shemini - Physical and Spiritual, Together

Greetings to all,

I hope everyone enjoyed his or her chag. And now that it's over, I'm sure we're all enjoying our bread, that bread that we have desired so much during this last week.
After focusing so much on Pesach, it's very difficult to change gears and jump into Parashat Shemini. I must say, I haven't fully changed gears. I'm still thinking about the sea splitting and about leaning to the left so as not to choke. However, my Rebbi, Rav Reich, did share a D'var Torah with me, and I will simply just write it over.

In this week's parasha, Parashat Shemini, Nadav and Avihu (Aharon's two sons) pass away. The reason the Torah states for their premature death is that they offered a certain spice offering that they were not commanded to bring. The Torah says explicitly that the cause of death was that they should not have brought that korban.
Our Rabbis have offered several alternative reasons for their death. One opinion says that they did the service while they were drunk. [There are many opinions, and each has its own source. For brevity's sake, we will not go into them.]
Rav Shlomo Yosef Zevin asks, why must we pin the reason on something else? The Torah states explicitly that they were not commanded to bring this korban. Why must we say that they entered the mishkan while intoxicated, and place the blame on that?
He explains that in order to understand this, we must understand a dispute between two opinions regarding what we are supposed to do for kiddush on Shabbat, every single week. On Friday night, when we say kiddush over the cup of wine, we make two berachot: (1) Bore Peri Hagefen - The blessing we make in order to actually drink the wine; and (2) Kiddush - We sanctify the day of Shabbat. The dispute between the two opinions is, which one of these two berachot goes first? The first opinion (Beit Shammai) says we sanctify the day first, and the second opinion says (Beit Hillel) we make the blessing over the wine first.
How can we describe this dispute? The first opinion (kiddush goes first) requires man to fulfill his potential to his fullest. Man should be able to sanctify something spiritually without using anything in this world. He shouldn't have to use the wine. He should jump directly to the spiritual, and he should sanctify the day immediately. On the other hand, the second opinion judges man at a much more practical level. He understands that it's very difficult for human beings to elevate to a spiritual level and sanctify the day without any stimulant. It is a lot easier to make kiddush when you are doing something physical to help get yourself "in the zone." Go ahead, bless on the wine, and then once you have done something physical which you can relate to, then sanctify the day.
It is very interesting to note that we hold and practice like the second opinion. We aren't expected to be angels! We aren't required to start with the spiritual blessing because we are but flesh and blood. It is understandable that we first make a blessing on the wine (physical), which is something that we can easily relate to, and only afterward attempt to make spiritual blessing. When it comes to our daily lives, we can use stimulants to enhance our service of Hashem. In fact, we should use these physical stimulants. They help us achieve our goals.
However, when it comes to the House of G-d, we are expected to be on a higher level. We are held to higher expectations. We shouldn't use any physical stimulants to help enhance any service.
When Nadav and Avihu drank wine before entering the House of G-d, and subsequently offered incense on the mizbe'ach, they were revealing that they wanted to achieve those spiritual heights with physical stimulants. Normally, that would be ok, and even recommended. However, they can't serve Hashem that way in His Own house.
When the Torah explains the reason for their deaths to be that they offered a certain spice offering that they were not commanded to bring, we are meant to understand it as they were not commanded to bring that offering in that fashion. They weren't supposed to use a stimulant. They weren't supposed to drink wine before entering the mishkan. They were supposed to bring that offering, and find the energy from within.
There are two great lessons that can be taken from this D'var Torah. First, we should use this world to help us serve Hashem. As we see from what we do every week, we make the blessing on the wine first because it is the easier and more effective to use that route. I don't know about you, but I'll speak for myself and say that I am not an angel, and I can't serve Hashem without using something in this world to help me get in that zone.
Second, we should understand that, at the end of the day, even though we need to use the physical to serve Hashem, that is not the ideal. Eventually, we want to be living our lives as though we are in His House, in the mishkan. That is something to strive for, and when the time is right, Be'ezrat Hashem, we will all be doing what we have to do without needing a crutch or some other aid to assist us.

Shabbat Shalom!
Regards to all, and be in touch.
Adam Sabzevari

A Poor Man and An Artist

Hola! [That's "Hello" in Spanish. Took it for three years. I knew it would come in handy.]

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First, I would like to say that I started working on a website - www.adamstorah.blogspot.com I will basically be posting the Divrei Torah that I type up on the website, so you can always go back to them. Feel free to tell anyone about this site, to tell over the Torah, and to even make money off of it. I don't know how you would, but if you could sell these Divrei Torah, by all means. Please help spread the Torah. Thanks!
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I hope everyone enjoyed his or her first day(s) of Yom Tov. It only comes around once a year, as does the seventh day of Pesach. May we all maximize it and take the most that we can from it.

There were two stories that I gave over during Pesach. Both are very famous, and I am sure that everyone is familiar with them. Nevertheless, I want to write them down so as not to forget them, and I figured I might as well share them. I sincerely apologize for not giving them over as they were originally created. I haven't read them from their sources, so I have probably changed around the stories a little bit. Please forgive me. Nevertheless, the messages will be clear.

Question #1: Everyday, at the end of Keriat Shema, we mention the fact that we left Egypt ("I am Hashem, Who took you out of Egypt, in order to be your G-d"). We remind ourselves that we left Egypt every time we say Shema, which should be saying at least twice a day. So what makes the night of Pesach any different? That we discuss our exodus? We do that every night! "What makes this night different from all other nights?"

Ben Ish Chai offers the following parable: There was once a very righteous woman, Leah, who loved inviting guests to her house. Leah would find out about people who needed a place to eat or sleep and would run to invite them. Her husband, Ezra, on the other hand, was a little stingy. Ezra loved the idea of inviting guests; he just didn't love the idea of having to pay for them.
One night, Ezra came home and was greeted by his wife and a poor man. "Honey, Chaim will be joining us for dinner tonight." Ezra took one good look at Chaim and assumed that he hadn't eaten in days. This poor man was going to eat all of his food. Ezra thought to himself, There must be a way for me to get him out of here without eating too much. I got it! I'll ask him a question that has a very long answer. While he's talking, we'll be eating. By the time he's finished talking, we'll have finished eating, and it'll be time for him to leave before he can even eat anything!
Brilliant plan. So Ezra said, "Chaim, do you know the story of Yosef in the Torah?" Chaim responded, "Of course!" Ezra asked, "Can you please tell me about his story?" Ezra expected Chaim to start off by speaking about all the hardships Rachel faced with childbirth. Then discuss the favoritism that Yosef's father expressed towards him. Then about the brothers' plan to kill him, then to abandon him, and then to sell him. Then, about his challenges in his slave-master's house and having to decline to the seduction of a married woman. Being sent to prison. Interpreting dreams. Being summoned by pharaoh. Becoming the viceroy. Playing games with his brothers. Bringing the whole family down to Egypt. And eventually having his bones carried back to Eretz Yisrael by Moshe Rabbeinu to be buried in the holy land. By the time this story would be done, Ezra and Leah will be done with their meal, ready to send Chaim out on his way.
Ezra asked, "Can you please tell me about Yosef's story?" Chaim responded, "Yosef got lost. Twenty years later, they found him. The end. Bon apetite!" Chaim minimized a story of 100+ years to three seconds.

That is exactly what we do all year round. When we say Shema, we don't give the exodus of Egypt any more than three seconds. "I am Hashem, Who took you out of Egypt, in order to be your G-d." That's it. There is one night a year that we don't cut out all the details, and that is the night of Pesach. One night a year, we actually speak out every single detail. It isn't about the overall idea, but it's to actually convey the story from beginning to end. Praiseworthy is the one who speaks extensively about the exodus on the night of Pesach.

Question #2: Why is there such a stress on remembering what happened in Egypt? It occurred over 3,000 years ago! It makes no difference to our lives. At the end of the day, whether we know about our history or not, life will go on. So why is it so important to "view ourselves as thought we are actually leaving Egypt?" Who cares?

Rav Asher Weiss offers the following parable: There was a young artist who has been sculpting many different animals. He's been practicing and working at it for years. After many trials and many errors, this apprentice finally created his masterpiece: a horse. He asked his mentor what to do with his masterpiece in order to have people see it and appreciate his art. His mentor told him to place it in the town square so people can come see it and recognize how talented he really is. And so he did. This young, aspiring artist placed his claim to fame, his horse, in the middle of the street for everyone to see. He sat nearby to observe people's reactions. But no one even looked twice at it. People walked right by. He couldn't understand why, but people wouldn't even lift their heads to look at the horse. What went wrong? He went back to his mentor and asked what he should have done differently. His mentor wisely responded, "You know why no one looks at it? Because it looks so real! Why would people look at a horse? There are always horses in this town in the streets! This is what you have to do. You have to make a second horse, but this time, you have to split it. You have to make the horse in two halves, and places these two halves next to your first horse. Make sure to leave a significant amount of space between the front half of the horse and the rear half."
And so he did. He made a second horse, split it in two halves, placed it next to his first horse in the town square, and watched from nearby to observe the reactions. He saw a couple people walk up to it, turn around a start yelling, "Everyone! It's a miracle! This horse is split!" As they approached the horse and touched it, they realized that it wasn't real! It was an unbelievable piece of art. And then they looked at the complete horse that was next to this split horse and were amazed by how real it looked. "I can't believe it's not a real horse!," exclaimed a passerby. Everyone was even more amazed by the complete horse because of its natural look, its exact detail, and its hairline precisions. And the apprentice smiled because he finally had people appreciating the natural-looking things that he created. He was no longer an apprentice. He was now an artist.

And the same is true with Hashem. He wants us to appreciate His everyday creations. There are so many simple things that exist in front of our very noses, but we don't even lift our heads to appreciate them. We take them all for granted. Hashem, therefore, does open miracles for us to realize how great He really is. For example, He splits the sea (like the split horse) so that we realize that the G-d Who can split the sea is the same G-d Who actually created it to be in its normal state. The open miracles are there for us to realize that Hashem's hand is in everything.
Hashem isn't going to perform open miracles in every generation. It is for this reason that there is a strong stress on remembering what happened in Egypt over 3,000 years ago. It's not just a history a lesson - it's supposed to create an understanding within us that the very things that we take for granted are as big of a deal as the sea splitting, or as any of the ten plagues for that matter.

Chag Same'ach!
I apologize for not expressing these thoughts as well as they deserve to be expressed.
Avraham Adam Sabzevari

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For questions, comments, criticisms, or suggestions, please email adamsabzevari@gmail.com. We are awaiting your feedback. :)

The Split Between the Plagues

Hello Everyone!

It is right before Pesach, and there is an unbelievable D'var Torah that Rabbi Yisroel Chesir, shlit"a, shared it with us in tenth grade, in the name of Rav Avraham Y. Bick, zt"l, who said it over in the year 1983. I have previously typed it up and sent it out, although I have made some minor changes. It is simply amazing and answers up many questions. It helps in understanding the entire story on a completely different level.
And please feel free to forward this to anyone you'd like.

First, I will pose some questions, and then offer his explanation, which is simply beautiful.

(1) In Parashat Va'era, the ten plagues begin. Hashem starts smiting the Egyptians for the cruelty they carried out against the Jewish people. One after another, plague after plague. However, the ten plagues don't end in Parashat Va'era. Va'era only contains seven plagues, whereas the final three are in next parasha, Parashat Bo. Why? Why were the Eser Makkot separated into two different parashiyot? Why not have one parasha covering the theme of the ten plagues? Is it just by chance that this is the way they were broken up, or is there a more fundamental reason? Perhaps the first seven occurred for one reason, and the final three came for other reasons? (Foreshadowing...)

(2) In his commentary regarding the ninth plague (i.e. darkness), Rashi (quoting a Midrash) asks, "Why did He bring darkness on [the Egyptians]?" What did they do to receive such a punishment? Two answers. One, there were evil people among the Jews in that generation who didn't want to leave Egypt, and they died out during those days of darkness so that the Egyptians will not see their demise. Had the Egyptians been around to see the death of so many Jews, they would have thought that Hashem was killing everyone: Jews and Egyptians alike. Imagine the chillul Hashem (desecration to Hashem's name). Therefore, Hashem brought the plague of darkness so that 80% of the Jewish population can pass away and have the burial processions, and the Egyptians would never even know about it. Second answer, it would be a way for the Jews to get rich. What do I mean? During the darkness, the Jews went into the Egyptian houses and searched to find out where they hide all of their riches. Then, when they were leaving Egypt, the Jews would go to the Egyptians and say, "Hey. What's up? Do you have anything expensive for me?" Egyptians would respond, "No, I'm sorry, we don't have anything." Jew - "Are you sure?" Egyptian - "Yeah, I'm so sorry that we can't help. But we'll miss you so so much. Please do come back!" Jew- "Oh, that's so sweet of you. I always had a dream that we would come back and have our kids play together in the town pyramidal parks. But before I go, are you sure you don't have a Rolex hidden between your two pillows, a 12-carrot diamond ring in the fourth drawer of your desk in the basement, and just a bar of gold sitting in the secret hiding spot behind the picture frame above your fireplace?" Egyptian - "Oooohhhhh! That's what you meant by riches. I thought you were talking about saddles for the camels, which I don't have. You should have been more specific! Gosh, of course I have those three things in those exact locations. I'll be back with them in a jiffy." Jew- "Oh yeah, give me your earrings, too. Thanks, love you!" And so it happened. The Jews became rich because when the Egyptians denied having anything expensive, the Jews told them that they knew exactly where the riches were, and so the Egyptians were forced to hand it over. (Note: Look at the beauty of the Jews. They could have just stolen everything. The Egyptians would not have been able to stop them, and they wouldn't even know who took it. But whether or not the Egyptians are watching, we understand that Hashem is watching, and we would never do something that is unjust.) In any event, what's the question that I have on this? Rashi asks on the ninth plague, "Why did He bring darkness on them?" Hello! Rashi, where were you for the first eight plagues? Why didn't you ask, "Why did he bring the plague of blood on them?...the plague of frogs?...lice?...wild animals?...etc..." Why wasn't Rashi bothered by any of the other plagues, but he is so curious as to why Hashem brought darkness on them?

(3) As a continuation to the last point, Rashi doesn't even answer the question! He asked, "Why did Hashem bring darkness on them - on the Egyptians? What did they do to receive such a punishment? What are the two answers? So that Jews can be buried, or so that Jews can get rich! That explains why the Jews had darkness. These two answers do not explain what the Egyptians did to receive darkness. What's going on here?

(4) I'm not sure where this is from, but if I'm not mistaken, there is a Midrash that explains that the ten plagues progressively became worse and harder to handle. The plague of blood was awful, but it got worse when the frogs came around. And even worse were the lice. And the wild animals were harsher. Pestilence - harder to deal with. You get the point. It all ultimately comes down to Makkat Bechorot, the plague of the firstborn, during which every household experienced death and mourning. That was the worst, beyond the shadow of a doubt. But let's go back to our ninth plague, darkness. Was it so bad? Does it deserve to be second to worst, falling short of first to the nation-wide mourning? If I had to pick one plague to experience, I would pick Darkness in a second. You don't even have to do anything! You just stay still for a week. They didn't even remember what happened! That can't be worse than not having any water to drink, or having boils on your skin, or having wild animals waiting outside your house to eat you for supper. In fact, it's a vacation. I think I can use a week off. Why not? It shouldn't be second to last! So why do we view it as such a harsh plague?

(5) In the beginning of Parashat Bo, when Pharaoh finally acquiesced to Moshe's request of letting the Jews go serve their G-d, there was a long dialogue between them. To simplify it, Pharaoh asked, "Who will be going to serve Hashem?" Moshe responded, "Everyone and everything. Men, women, boys, girls, grandpas, grandmas, sheep, cows. The whole mishpacha. We all need to go serve our G-d." Pharaoh responded, "Nope. Only the men are going. No one else. Just the MEN."
Question: What's this about? Was it just a mere negotiation? It was Moshe's job as the savior to take everyone and everything out of Egypt, and it was Pharaoh's job as the cruel adversary to hold on to as many slaves as he could? Or was there something deeper going on in this argument?

In summary:
(1) Why are the ten plagues split up into two parshiyot (seven and three)?
(2) Why does Rashi ask the reason for only one plague (i.e. Darkness)?
(3) Why does Rashi not answer the question he asked?
(4) Why was Darkness at the end if it wasn't even so bad?
(5) What's behind Moshe and Pharaoh's argument regarding who gets to leave Egypt?

All right. Here's the answer. Be'te'avon!

In Parashat Shemot (4:22-23), toward the end, Hashem tells Moshe to tell Pharaoh the following: "This is what Hashem said, 'Yisrael is My son, My firstborn. And I have said to you, send out My son and let him serve Me. If you refuse to send him (My nation), I will slay your firstborn son.'" Basically, Hashem says that as a punishment for enslaving the Jews, He will kill the firstborn of Pharaoh, and of all the Egyptians, as well. That's it. No Eser Makkot. No songs. No stories on Pesach night. Just one plague: Makkat Bechorot. So where do the other nine plagues come in? What is the reason for them? What did the Egyptians do to deserve the other nine?
When Moshe says this whole message to Pharaoh (first time he's seeing his grandpa), Pharaoh responds (5:2), "Who is this Hashem, that I should obey His voice, to let Yisrael go? I don't know Him. Furthermore, I will not let the Jews go." There are two things that Pharaoh says here, both of which are bad. First, he disgraces Hashem. He made it seem as though he had never even heard of Hashem. He took out his gods-encyclopedia and didn't find Hashem listed in it. Google search came back with nothing. He said that Hashem is not really a god and can't do anything. Second, he disgraced the Jews. It would be one thing if he said, "I don't know Hashem. Therefore, I will not send the Jews." But that's not what he said. He said, "Ve'gam - Furthermore, I will not send the Jews free," because they are a worthless people, and they deserve to be nothing more than slaves. They aren't a special nation, and therefore, even if I knew Who their G-d was, I still wouldn't let them go, because they're nothing special.
Whoa! He just shamed Hashem and His people. So he'll get what he deserves. The plague of the firstborn is a punishment for enslaving the Jews. Now, Hashem will punish Pharaoh for disgracing Him and His people. And all that begins in Parashat Va'era. Hashem starts by punishing him for saying, "I don't know of this Hashem you speak of." He starts with the plague of blood. Pharaoh doesn't apologize. Fine. Smite him with frogs. Still no apology. Next, lice. And so on, and so forth. After plague number seven - hail (9:27), Pharaoh calls to Moshe and Aharon and says, "I have sinned. Hashem is the righteous One. I and my people are the sinners." And there it is. Pharaoh, the very person who said he doesn't know Hashem, is now acknowledging Hashem's existence, and His superiority. Perfect. That's the end of that. END OF THE PARASHA! That's the end of Parashat Va'era. Parashat Va'era was speaking about the plagues Pharaoh received for not acknowledging Hashem's existence. Hashem performed miracle after miracle until he had no choice. And when that happened, the parasha is over. (If you are interested in the specificities of what each plague was corresponding to, many commentaries offer various explanations as to what the message was behind each and every plague. But overall, the main point was to make the Egyptians realize, "Who is this Hashem, that I should obey His voice, to let Yisrael go?") (Answer 1)
Although Pharaoh apologized about disgracing Hashem Himself, he's still guilty of shaming the Jews and not apologizing for it. He still feels that the Jews are worthless, and even though Hashem is Awesome, the Jews don't deserve to leave. And this entire idea manifests itself in the dialogue between Moshe and Pharaoh. The Jews are going to serve Hashem. And Pharaoh understands that. But who does the services? Who brings the sacrifices? Who takes care of the korbanot? Who is in charge of the prayers? Is it the children? Is it the elderly? Is it the women? Is it the cows or sheep? Of course not! It's just the men. And so Pharaoh realizes that they have to leave to serve this All-Powerful G-d of theirs, but only the men have to go. They alone will take care of the services, and then return. However, Moshe was trying to explain something deeper to Pharaoh. In Judaism, it's not just about who offers the cow as a korban, or who prayers for the congregation. Serving Hashem isn't bound to a couple minutes a day. OUR LIVES ARE FILLED WITH SERVING HASHEM. When the Egyptians eat, they eat to fill their stomachs. But when Jews it, it's not just something we do because we are hungry. We do it so that we will be fully nourished so that we will have the strength to serve Hashem. Eating food isn't about us. It's about Him. We need food to serve Him, so we eat. This is with everything. Egyptians exercise so that they will be strong so that they can make bigger buildings, or to impress each other. But Jews exercise to stay healthy to live longer, in order to serve Hashem longer. They sleep because they are tired. We sleep to get energy, in order to serve Him. Considering all this, are the services limited to the men? Of course not! The women are half the population. They are doing 50% of the services to Hashem. They eat, sleep, and exercise as well. They are serving Hashem the entire day long. How can the B'nei Yisrael leave without the women? Or the kids? They serve Hashem too! Or the elderly? Or the animals? We use the animals to travel or to eat, both of which we do for one reason...and I'm sure you can guess it - to serve Hashem! HOWEVER, Pharaoh couldn't understand this. He thought, "C'mon. The Jews stink. Whom are you kidding? They are worthless. They don't know how to serve anything. Send your men, let them do what they gotta do, and get back to work." (Answer 5)
And so the plagues begin again. In Parashat Bo, we have the eighth plague, locust. And after the eighth plague (10:16), Pharaoh says, "I have sinned to Hashem and to you (ve'lachem)." And there it is. He apologized to the Jews for shaming them. Now, he has a clean slate. He apologized for shaming Hashem. He apologized for shaming the Jews. The only punishment left is for enslaving the Jews, and that is Makkat Bechorot. But hold on a second. If Pharaoh apologized after the eighth plague, and the plague of the firstborns was the tenth plague, what is the ninth one (Darkness) for? Seemingly, it's extra! Where is it coming from? What did the Egyptians do to deserve this one? This explains why Rashi was only puzzled by this plague. This plague, and no other plague. Because this plague seems to have no reason behind it. (Answer 2)
So what is the answer? What did the Egyptians do to deserve Darkness? It wasn't for enslaving the Jews, nor was it for shaming Hashem or the Jews. So what's it for? What did Rashi say? Two answers: So that the Jews can bury their dead without causing a chillul Hashem or so that the Jews can get rich. What's the real answer? It's not a punishment! Darkness was not a punishment at all. It was a favor for the Jews. They were about to leave Egypt, and they had to prepare. Rashi's answer is saying that Hashem didn't really bring it as a punishment on the Egyptians. Instead, it is just a favor for the Jews. (Answer 3)
And this also explains our fourth question: All of the plagues would progressively get worse as they went along, but darkness wasn't a plague. Therefore, even though it was second to last, it wasn't that bad because it wasn't meant to be bad. (Answer 4)

And so there it is. There is a whole different perspective on the reason for majority of the plagues. Unbelievable, no? Sorry if I didn't present it as eloquently as it deserves to be presented, and I appreciate it that you even got up to here. This is probably the longest email that I have ever written, ever. And so I hope you enjoy it. Please let me know what you think about it.

Take care!

Truly Yours,
Avraham Adam Sabzevari
Chag Kasher Ve'Sameach!

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For questions, comments, criticism, or suggestions, please email adamsabzevari@gmail.com. We are awaiting your feedback. :)

Parashat Tzav - Keep That Fire Burning

Hello Everyone,

In this week’s parasha, Parashat Tzav, there are several fundamental messages that I would like to mention. Being home from yeshiva, I apologize if the Divrei Torah are not up to par, but we’ll try. I’m also a little late, but in my defense, if I were in Israel, you’d be receiving this about seven hours ago.

The parasha starts by commanding that there must be a constant fire burning on the mizbe’ach (Alter). Furthermore, the Kohen must place a couple of pieces of wood on the mizbe’ach every morning as firewood. However, the amount of wood that he places is not nearly enough to fuel the fire. His couple of pieces would suffice to keep the fire burning for a couple of hours but not an entire day. A two-sided question arises. Does Hashem want to perform an open miracle? If so, why require the Kohen to put a couple of pieces of wood there? Hashem doesn’t need those pieces either. Just perform the miracle without any wood placed on the mizbe’ach. On the flipside, if Hashem doesn’t want to perform an overt miracle, then why doesn’t He require an ample amount of firewood to be placed on the mizbe’ach, enough to fuel a full day’s fire?

The answer is something that we all know. Hashem never wants to perform outright, open miracles. Doing so would strip us of our free will. When there is a Being Who manifestly performs blatant miracles, all will believe in Him. Hashem wants us to have a choice as to whether or not we believe in Him. He, therefore, acts in a hidden fashion. Hashem wants to perform this miracle of keeping the fire for an entire day. But it can’t be so explicit. He required the Kohen to put a couple pieces of wood on every day so that the deniers and cynics have something with which to justify this phenomenon.

It is for this very reason that when the sea split for the Jewish people as they were leaving Egypt, Hashem created an abnormal eastern wind. The nonbelievers had something with which to explain why the sea split, even though it is so obvious that it is all the Hand of Hashem.

Another miracle would occur constantly in the Beit Hamikdash. It would often rain on the unroofed mizbe’ach. Nevertheless, the rain would NEVER extinguish the fire. The fire would withstand the rain, even though that goes against nature. If what we just explained is true, that Hashem veers away from performing open miracles, why does Hashem perform this obvious miracle? There is an easier way of preventing the rain from extinguishing the fire. Don’t let it rain over the mizbe’ach! As we all know, it seldom rains in the Middle East. If it would never rain over the mizbe’ach, no one would think twice about it. There are many places in that area where it simply doesn’t rain. But why perform this outright miracle? Why have the fire continue burning, even through the rain?

There is an unbelievable message to take away from this. The fire on the mizbe’ach represents that which is in each and every one of us – the fire to serve Hashem. We all know about the fire that we have, to want to do what’s right, to want to do what our Creator wants of us. And truth be told, there are many things to deter us from the proper service. Be it out friends, colleagues, family members, events, or even the voice in our own heads. There are tough times for all of us. But you know what they say – “When the going gets tough, the tough get going.” You have to pick up the slack. Be a little stronger and withstand those people or events that rain on our fire. Hashem is showing us through this miracle that the fire never goes out, even when everything tells it to. Even when there are torrential downpours, the fire keeps on going. As do we. The fire inside our hearts continues burning through the tough times. When things aren’t all happy and rosy, then you plant your own roses. We don’t let thing depress us, chas ve’shalom.

Just one last thought. The last piece was explaining that we should continue going strong through all the tough times. One example – Others tell us NOT to serve Hashem. Even though we should not listen to them, that doesn’t mean we should, chas ve’shalom, be disrespectful to them in any which way or form. There are two types of korbanot, Korban Olah and Korban Chatat, that are brought in the same exact location in the Beit Hamikdash. The Korban Olah is a voluntary korban, and the Korban Chatat is what one brings after committing a certain type of sin. Why do they have to be brought in the same location? Very simple – Hashem doesn’t want to embarrass the sinners. If as soon as you entered the Beit Hamikdash, the kohanim would say, “Righteous people to the right, sinners to the left,” then religion would be looked down upon. Hashem demonstrates a lot of care and love towards those who sin against Him. So are we any better than G-d? Who are we to be disrespectful to anyone who says or does anything against Hashem? It doesn’t matter how serious the sin is. It’s not our places to judge people. All we should do is keep that fire burning within us, and Hashem will take care of the rest.

Shabbat Shalom! I hope you enjoyed the Divrei Torah, and I apologize if you didn’t.

Be in touch! Take care!

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For questions, comments, or criticisms, please email adamsabzevari@gmail.com. We are awaiting your feedback. :)

Korbanot - The Follow Up

Someone asked me a question this week. I figured I would share it with everyone and see if anyone had any other suggestions. I have, with his permission, copied his question and my response. Enjoy!

I had a question come to mind while I read this. I understand that we are performing the modern equivalent of korbanot when we do these acts, but I don’t really understand why we need to know the exact details of how they brought each of the korbanot. The only relevance the procedures in Parashat Vayikra have to our lives today is to prepare ourselves for the building of the Beit Hamikdash B"H in the near future and reinstating the korban services. Other than that, actually knowing how to bring korbanot doesn't seem to have relevance to us.

Just wanted to share my thoughts with you…

Thanks again for the email!

Hey,

Even though my point was that you can make korbanot very practical in our lives, you can't overlook the fact that at the end of the day, we are not bringing korbanot. All of those details, as you said, are very important in the actual services that YOU (a kohen, descendant of Aharon Hakohen, the man who started all these services) will be doing very soon. However, I spent a lot of time studying all the different types of korbanot. When do you have to bring which one? Which ones are for which sins? Which sins are grouped together? Why is this group of sins atoned through this type of korban, and other sins through other korbans? Which ones our brought when you are thankful? When you study the purpose of each korban, and how the purpose of the korban changes the details of each korban, you start understanding what those details symbolize. There are so many examples, and I don't even know half of them. But I'll give you one quick example. The Korban Mincha is when you take wheat flour, mix it with oil, and put frankincense (a really expensive, aromatic spice) on top of it. So as you said, these details seem irrelevant. But Rav Shimshon Rafael Hirsch explains it as follows. When you are bringing a korban to thank Hashem, you should have these three things in mind. (1) Wheat is the most basic food in this world. You use it to make bread. The first thing you should thank Hashem for is the bare necessities, the fact that you have food to eat, energy to live. Bringing wheat as part of the korban expresses that you understand that your very existence lies in the Hands of Hashem. (2) Next, you have the oil. When do you have oil? When you start getting a little more money. You don't just eat bread, but you have other stuff to make it taste better. Oil represents the comforts or luxuries in life. You are now thanking Hashem for the cars, the houses, the clothes, the money...everything more than just the bare necessities. (3) What happens when you smell a fragrant aroma? You feel good. You sorta get high. It's a feeling that even if you have all the money in the world, happiness doesn't just come with money. Many people are filthy rich, but they never feel happy, as though they are smelling an aromatic spice. You should thank Hashem for being happy as well.
So who cares about the details? They teach you so much. From this one korban, you learn that you must be appreciative of three specific things: (1) Being able to live, (2) having luxuries, and (3) being happy. When you are praying or eating, have these thoughts in mind.
This is ONE explanation of ONE korban. Just think about the depth to each and every korban. The details are very important. But you have to care to look into it enough so that it means something special to you.
There are so many sefarim to learn about these topics. I only know a couple. If you want some suggested reading, I'll let you know. But Baruch Hashem, a guy like you can probably figure a lot of the symbolism out yourself if you really spend some time thinking about it.

Take care, and thanks for the question.

Parashat Vayikra - Korbanot - A Thing of the Past...Or Not...

Shalom Alechem to all,

And so it is. I'm back in America. It's so funny how easy it is to forget how life was for the past 18 years. I'll say some differences. Tap water tastes expensive here. Better than bottled water in Israel. Speaking about bottles, I've gotten used to Israeli soda bottles. The bottles in America are short and fat. They are obese. I feel so wrong not having to "skwee-jee" the entire bathroom after taking a shower. For some reason, when your shower is enclosed by more than just a curtain, water doesn't get all over the place - amazing. The computer....I'm not typing this email on Microsoft Windows 95. The cold weather. And many more, feel free to ask me or any of the other hundreds of teens who came back this past week.
Quick thought on this week's parasha. I think it is beautiful and makes the discussion of korbanot a lot more practical into our daily lives. Don't get me wrong, there is no such thing as Torah that is impractical to us. By virtue of the fact that it is Torah, there is a purpose in learning it just for the sake of knowing the Torah.

Parashat Vayikra speaks about different korbanot (sacrifices/offerings - Rav Hirsch has this whole piece explaining that it is neither a sacrifice nor an offering, but for lack of a better term). So my question for you is, what does that have to do with our lives? Have any of you brought a goat to the Beit Hamikdash lately? What about pigeons? I got plenty of them outside my house here, but I don't really need them for sacrificial purposes any time soon. Maybe you mixed up some wheat flour with oil and frankincense and offered that in the Beit Hamikdash? Nope. So how do we relate to korbanot nowadays? How do we make it something that has to do with our everyday lives?

I'll give you three answers:

(1) Learning - There is a gemara in Masechet Megila (my beloved) which relates a dialogue between Avraham Avinu (A"H) and Hashem. Avraham asks Hashem, "In what zechut (merit) are the Jewish people going to be able to live in the land of Israel?" Hashem responds, "In merit of their sacrifices." Avraham asks, "What about after the time of the Beit Hamikdash?!?" [By the way, he was asking for our generation!] Hashem responded, "When they learn the portion about korbanot, I will view it as though they are bringing korbanot." Get that. When we learn about korbanot, it is as though we are actually bringing them. It actually is so much easier for us. Instead of spending $6,000 to buy a goat and shlep it to Yerushalayim, you can just learn in your living room. Take advantage.

(2) Praying - The Gemara in Berachot has the famous line, "Tefillot K'neged Korbanot Tiknum" - "Praying was established corresponding to korbanot." "U'neshalmah Parim Sefateinu" - "We substitute the cows with our lips." Every time you daven, it is as though you are bring a korban.

(3) Eating - There is a story recounted in Masechet Berachot. Elisha HaNavi was once at someone's house, and the hostess knew that he was a tzaddik. How did she know? One of the explanations in the gemara is that she saw that there were no flies at the table while he was eating. So what? Why does that make him a tzaddik?
There were many miracles that happened in the Beit Hamikdash on a daily basis. I forgot the exact number, I think it is ten. One of the daily miracles that occurred in the Beit Hamikdash is that there were never any flies there. Now, when there are animals being slaughtered left and right, and there is blood and meat all over, it is inevitable to have flies around. That is why it is an actually miracle that there were no flies present.
Our Sages tell us that a person's table on which he eats is like the mizbeach, the Alter on which korbanot were brought. In fact, if he has the right intentions, it will be considered as though he is eating from one the the holy korbanot. When a person concentrates and understands that he/she is eating in order to serve Hashem, to satiate and to nourish himself/herself to have what it takes to continue learning Torah, doing mitzvot, bestowing kindnesses to fellow Jews, when he/she has proper intent, his/her food will become consecrated and turn into a korban for Hashem.
When this woman saw Elisha eating and saw that there were no flies around his food, she realized that this was the same miracle that occurred in the Beit Hamikdash with the korbanot. That meant he knew how to sanctify his food, which set him above the rest. And he was eating from a korban.

My question was, how can korbanot be relevant to our lives? If every time that you pray, you are bringing a korban; every time you eat, you are bringing a korban; and every time you study about korbanot, you are bringing a korban; I think the better question is, can korbanot be any less relevant to our lives?

May we all be zocheh to bring korbanot - now, when we don't have the Beit Hamikdash, by capitalizing in all three of the above mentioned avenues, and tomorrow, in the Beit Hamikdash itself, when Mashiach has come to bring bring us home.

With love,
Adam Sabzevari
Be in touch. Please.

Parashat Vayakhel - The Holy Sabbath

Hello Everybody,

This is the last Shabbat that I will be in Eretz Yisrael for about a month. I am glad to be going home to see the family and all, and at the same time, I don’t want to leave the home of the Jewish nation. Hopefully, we’ll all be here soon enough and we’ll all be calling it our home.

Parashat Vayakhel begins with the idea of Shabbat. I will be using that idea as a springboard for the following D’var Torah:

We all know that during the times of the Beit HaMikdash, if one were to desecrate Shabbat because he forgot it was Shabbat or because he forgot that what he was doing was prohibited, he would have to bring a korban (sacrifice/offering, if you will). If someone unintentionally breaks Shabbat, his atonement lies in offering a female goat on the mizbeach. The obvious question is, why does one have to bring a korban if he sinned unintentionally? Just because he forgot that what he was doing was prohibited, he requires atonement? It is understandable to require it by sinning intentionally. But unintentionally? Why is he held responsible?

There are four answers to this question: [Note: If you have no patience, skip to the fourth. That’s what I did. Sorry for not proofreading the first three. That’s a joke. Fortunately, this type of humor passes at Sha’alvim].

(1) (1) Abarbanel – It isn’t a punishment. Offering the she-goat is just a preventative measure. The Torah understands that if it requires you to go through an entire ordeal for sinning unintentionally, you would be more careful next time. But you don’t deserve a punishment. It’s just there to help you.

(2) (2) Rav Shimshon Rafael Hirsch (he’s so smart) – Ignorance does not exempt you. You are held accountable because you forgot. You should have been more aware. It is very easy to say, “It’s not my fault,” or “How was I supposed to know?” But you should take some responsibility onto yourself and understand that you should have known that it was wrong or you should have realized what day of the week it is. Just check you cell phone. (That was also a joke. Sorry.)

(3) (3)Ramban – Every physical action in the world has a spiritual effect on your soul. Granted that when you sin unintentionally, you did not disobey Hashem in this world; nevertheless, your soul is still left tainted and blemished due to the action. The korban will atone for your sin, hopefully.

(4) (4) Lubavitcher Rebbe – Hashem will only let you sin unintentionally if at some point you also sinned intentionally. By virtue of the fact that you desecrated Shabbat, albeit unintentionally, that sheds light to the fact that you have probably been lax in previous weeks. Therefore, you bring a korban for every time that you have been negligent in keeping Shabbat in the past.

There is a famous story that shows us the amount of love we should have toward our precious gift of Shabbat. The Vilna Gaon once desecrated Shabbat completely unintentionally. What was his reaction? He fainted. When his family members revived him and he realized what happened, he fainted a second time. [I don’t know if that part of the story is true, but it makes it more poignant – yeah, I haven’t forgotten English.] He understood that even though he was absolutely not at fault, Hashem would not have let him break Shabbat if he was completely perfect in his observance of Shabbat. [Editor’s Note: Hate to break it to you, but you’re not on the Vilna Gaon’s level, and you probably never will be. And don’t get all emotional – It’s not you, it’s him. So if you find yourself fainting on Shabbat, call a medic – if you are awake.]

What’s the point of this story? It’s not that we should become so over obsessive that we will actually faint and go unconscious – twice. We shouldn’t drive ourselves crazy and think Judaism is a bunch of crazy people doing meaningless things that, at first glance, make no difference. On the contrary, we should learn that our religion has so many opportunities for everyone, to each his own. Everyone can find so many things with which he or she can connect to Hashem. Take advantage. Find something that you hold valuable. For some, it may be taking Shabbat seriously. For others, it may be doing chessed and just giving themselves to anyone and everyone who requires their help. I can now list about 613 things to do. But I won’t. B/c I don’t want to. And also because I don’t know them all. But mainly because I don’t want to. Anyway, focus. There are so many things we can do. Hopefully, we will master not one, not two, but every single aspect of Judaism. Be’ezrat Hashem, we will all reach our potential and be all that we can be (registered Trademark of the US Army).

Love you all,

Adam (Greenfield) Sabzevari

Parashat Teruma - Result vs. Action

Greetings,

When looking for Divrei Torah, one usually starts at the beginning of the parasha, making his way through. If there is anything that grabs his attention, he will look into it. Due to the greatness of the Torah, one cannot get passed the first few passukim without finding something beautiful to say over. This week, I have become victim to this, and I will say over a thought I heard in the name of Rav Ganz, one of the rebbeim at Yeshivat Sha'alvim on the very beginning of the parasha.

In Parashat Terumah, Hashem starts off by commanding Moshe Rabbeinu to collect donations that would contribute to the funds of the Mishkan, the temporary Beit Hamikdash that they used in the desert. There are all types of collections: gold, silver, copper, different dyes of wool, wood, oil, spices, stones, etc. All of these contributions paid for one of three things: (1) the "adanim" - "sockets" - i.e. the actual construction of the mishkan building; (2) the animals that they brought for the communal sacrifices, that were offered on behalf of all of us; and (3) everything else they needed for the mishkan.

These are all different causes that have nothing to do with each other. Why does Hashem include them all in one statement? "They should take contributions for me" (Shemot 25:2). Shouldn't Hashem mention the different causes? From Hashem's command, it sounds as though He doesn't even care what our donations go toward. All we have to do is giving something. It doesn't even matter why we're giving, or what it will result to.

And just to help understand it better, we'll ask one more question. Hashem says that should donate with good intentions, with the intent that this is all going for Hashem. Why? If I hand $100 (or shekel) to a poor person, he would not care if I were giving it to him genuinely or for some other motive. He gets his money. If all we're trying to do is raise money for the house of Hashem, then why do those funds need to be handed over with intent that it is all for the sake of Hashem? Why are we focusing on the action as opposed to the result?

In truth, this is not like any other tzedaka to help a cause. This is NOT like supporting the needy. When giving money to the poor, your intentions are immaterial. All they need is your signature on a check, preferably a blank one. But when contributing to the house of Hashem, this is not so. Do you really think Hashem needs our money? I'm sure there were a couple of rich men that would be more than glad to basically pay for the entire thing, from beginning to end. After all, this is Hashem's house on this world. Why ask the masses to donate?

The reason is that these donations were not for Hashem, but for the masses. Hashem wants us to feel that we are a part of it. It's not about the money. It's about the action of giving. It's about feeling that we are part of something. If one were to sign a check and send it in without a genuine heart, that would defeat the whole purpose. Hashem wants us to feel that the mishkan belongs to us, to all of us. When everyone feels as though part of the mishkan belongs to him, it will be more near and dear to him. That's the only reason Hashem asks Moshe to collect money from the masses. Not for Him, but for them.

And it is for this very reason why Hashem doesn't even mention the causes but mentions it all in one very short statement. "They should take contributions for me" (Shemot 25:2). I don't even care what it goes for. It doesn't even matter. I just want them to give to feel that they are part of something larger than they. It doesn't even matter why or for what we're giving. It's not the result that matters; rather, its the actions that lead up to that result.

May we take this concept and apply it to life. Almost all of the time, the result is crucial and absolutely necessary. But that shouldn't be the only thing. Be'ezrat Hashem, we should all feel that we are part of something greater than we. When we are contributing to a shul, be it financially or by investing our time and energy into the synagogue's affairs, we should have that feeling that we are giving ourselves to Hashem. When we sit down to study some Torah, even if it just for five minutes a day, or even if it is just one D'var Torah that is emailed to you once every-other-week, you should feel in your heart that it's not only about learning and knowing what the Torah says (which is actually very important), but it's also to be doing what Hashem tells you to do and to devote yourself to something that you know is right. May we all continue to be inspired and feed off that inspiration in order to act.

Sabbatical Salutations (or Shabbat Shalom - whichever you'd prefer),

Sincerely,

Adam Sabzevari

Be in touch. Please.

Parashat Yithro - True Kindness

Hey everyone!

I hope all is well. There was a lot of excitement here in Israel earlier this week. It will be interesting to see how everything unfolds. I've been trying to figure out how the whole political system works in Israel. It's complicated.

In any event, now to the more important stuff. I have a very quick, short D'var Torah with an unbelievable message.

We are first introduced to the Aseret HaDiberot (Ten Commanments) this week, in Parashat Yithro. The first commandment was, "Anochee Hashem Elokecha" - "I am Hashem, your G-d." The second commandment, "Lo yihye lecha elokim acherim..." - "You should not have any other gods." The first two commandments tell us that we must believe in Hashem, and not believe in any other god or deity.

I hate to get all grammatical, but these first two commandments were given in singular. "I am your G-d," and the word "your" was in singular, almost as though Hashem was only speaking to one person. Similarly, "You should not have any other gods," and the word "you" was in singular, almost as if Hashem were only conveying this message to an individual.

Chazal tell us that this was a way out, a get out of jail free card, a defense, when we sinned with the Golden Calf. As we all know, soon after hearing the Ten Commandments, we molded an idol out of gold in the shape of a calf. And we went against those first two commandments. We lost belief in Hashem, and we served another god. But what was our defense? We claimed that Hashem was only speaking with Moshe Rabbeinu, A"H. When Hashem spoke in singular form to Moshe, it seemed as though Moshe was the only one forbidden to serve another god. So the Jewish people couldn't be held responsible! They were never told that they cannot serve this idol. Although it sounds as though we were playing dumb, and we were, we were undoubtedly exonerated. (You might be wondering why we were punished. All of this shouldn't be taken at face value. Obviously, we were held accountable. But there is a message to learn from this when our Sages teach us something like this.)

Why did Hashem give over the commandments in singular form? Why did He speak to Moshe alone?

Imagine you were doing someone a favor. Imagine there was a very poor man, and he had no home or clothing. You bring him into your house, give him food, a shower, a place to sleep, give him some pocket money, and just give him everything you have to offer. And he takes the food and money that you offered him and just throws it away. He then turns around, spits in your face, and leaves. Would you be angry? Why? Why would you be offended? After all, if he doesn't want the favor, why does that upset you? He could continue living in poverty, but you will still take in personally. Who's the one losing out here? He is! So why are you angry?

The answer is obvious. When a person does an act of kindness for another, he invests himself into it. It gives him a sense of joy to feel that he is helping someone else. Someone can actually be very selfish when he is doing a seemingly selfless act. And if you don't want to accept his selfless gesture, then he will be offended, which manifests that it may have a small tinge of selfishness mixed in.

Not so with Hashem. He took us out of enslavement. Performed miracles left and right, for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Took care of everything for us. Sent us out with riches. Splits the sea, and annihilates the enemy before our very eyes. He then reveals Himself to us, in a revelation that He has never done before. Some act of kindness, no? But that's not what makes it special. What makes this a special act of kindness, a G-dly act of kindness, is that when revealing Himself to us and forbidding idolatry, He already gives us a way out. He wants us to be able to turn around, spit in His face, serve an idol, and be able to claim that we did absolutely nothing wrong. Hashem forbade serving idols to Moshe Rabbeinu alone because He was doing a completely selfless act. If we don't want the Torah, Hashem wouldn't be offended. There was no trace of selfishness in this act. There would be no personal joy or thrill when bestowing us with this benevolence. It was all for one reason - it was all for us. And if that meant that we would turn around and spit in His face, so be it. Hashem loves us that much that all he wants to do is to give, and that's all He does.

(It is interesting to note that the Torah calls burying someone "true kindness." It is for this very reason. He is not expecting anything in return because the recipient of his act of kindness in no longer in this world to repay him.)

Two things to think about: (1) Think about how much Hashem loves you. The only proof needed to know this fact is that you are living, not to mention all the times that He just gives to us, selflessly. (2) Think about what real kindness should be. Next time you offer to do someone a favor, try to take your self out of the picture and act completely out of your care for the receiving party. If he doesn't want it, you should in no way be offended, because that means that you were actually selfish all along.

Shabbat Shalom! Take care.

Adam Sabzevari

For questions, comments, criticism, or sponsoring information, please email adamsabzevari@gmail.com. We are awaiting your feedback.

Parashat Be'Shalach - Unity

Shalom Alechem Le'Kulchem,

I would love to share another D'var Torah with all of you. I guess I'm obsessed with Divrei Torah that span over multiple weeks. The following is a wonderful piece of Torah, based on a thought that I heard from Rabbi Alpert, and there was a message that I drew from it that I would also like to relate. You are invited to read this D'var Torah this week, next week, during Pesach time, or all of the above.

In this week's Parasha, Parashat Beshalach, the Torah says regarding the Egyptians, "Ve'hine Mitzrayim nose'a achare'hem" - "Behold, the Egyptians were coming after them (i.e. the Jews)" (Shemot 14:10). Even after the Jews have already left Egypt, the Egyptians were very stubborn and wanted the Jews back. Hence, they were coming after us. It is interesting to note that the Torah refers to the multitudes of Egyptians as a singular being when it says "nose'a achare'hem" - "they were coming after them." The Torah should have written, "nose'im achare'hem." "Nose'a" really means that one person was coming (he was coming after them). Why does the Torah do this? After all, we are speaking about the entire nation? Why refer to them as one individual?

Well, Rashi, quoting a Midrash, explains that the Egyptians were said to have been "coming after us" in singular because they were "Be'lev Echad, Ke'Ish Echad" - "With one heart, as one man." This simply means that the Egyptians were so unified, so together, so close to one another, that they can be referred to as one individual -- with one heart, like one man. The unity. It's just awesome, right? Right.

No, wait. Wrong! What are we doing? Did we forget what's going on here? You know, Jews - good guys. Egyptians - bad guys. Evil people who want to continue enslaving us and who couldn't care less about us or Hashem. And when Hashem does miracle after miracle, plague after plague, they still don't give up until the very end. They're chasing after us, for heaven's sake! Why are we praising them? Why are we praising their unity when it comes to pursuing the Jews? It's like, "Oh wow. Look at how that murderer pulls the trigger so nicely. It's beautiful." NO! It's not beautiful! Why does the Torah decide to start praising the wicked, wicked Egyptians as they are chasing after us. This nation has enslaved us for the past 210 years. I think we can do without the praise.

This question can be answered beautifully by next week's parasha, Parashat Yitro. Right before Matan Torah, right before Hashem blesses us with the precious gift of Torah on Mount Sinai, the Torah describes the Jews and writes "Vayichan sham Yisrael neged ha'har" - "The Jews camped there opposite the mountain" (Shemot 19:2). However, similar to as we saw before, the Torah writes the singular form of "camping" (Vayichan), as opposed to the plural form, "Vayachanu." Interesting. The Jewish people are also referred to as an individual. It says that we camped there, we slept there than night, in singular. Well, why does it do that? We are a huge nation. It should say that we slept in plural. Rashi, on the spot, explains very similar to how he explained previously. "Ke'Ish Echad, Be'lev Echad" - "As one man, with one heart." The Jews, like the Egyptians, were unified. And the Torah is praising us for our unity.

Except, as you have probably already noticed, there is one minor difference in Rashi's comments on these two passages. Regarding the Egyptians, he wrote that they were, "Be'lev Echad, Ke'Ish Echad" - "With one heart, as one man." And regarding the Jews, he wrote that we were, "Ke'Ish Echad, Be'lev Echad" - "As one man, with one heart." Why the change in the order? Why are the Egyptians referred to as having one heart, as one man does, whereas the Jews are referred to as being like one man, with one heart.

To answer this question, let us explain what the human heart represents. Man's goals and aspirations are generated in his heart. You listen to your heart because it tells you what you want. You follow your heart because it is where your dreams stem from.

How can we describe the analogy to a man? A man has many different parts. His legs, arms, head, fingers, kidneys, and lungs are all very different from each other, but they come together. They all unite to create a larger being, the man. A man is made up of many different things, but all parts are dependent on the others. They are all very different, but come together nevertheless.

What did we say about Egyptians? We said that they were, "Be'lev Echad, Ke'Ish Echad" - "With one heart, as one man." We asked, why are we going out of our way to praise them? The answer is, THIS ISN'T A PRAISE. The Egyptians had one common goal: Kill the Jews. They all had the same dreams, the same aspirations, the same heart. Once they all had the same heart, consequently, they all came together, as though they were one man. But where did this unity generate from? Not love. But hatred. Not out of love for each other, but out of hatred for the Jews.

On the total opposite end of the spectrum, you have the B'nei Yisrael. We are all at Har Sinai. We know it's only a matter of hours before we receive the Torah. And we are all encamping at there, anxiously awaiting what we love so dearly even until today. And in truth, we don't all agree with each other. We don't all have the same hashkafot, same philosophies in life. We don't have a common enemy that is drawing us closer to one another. There is only one reason we are united: we love each other. We make ourselves as one man is, with many different parts. "Ke'Ish Echad" comes first. There are so many different types of Jews: religious, irreligious, Sefaradi, Asheknazi, Chassidish, Litvish, (I really wish I knew all the different types so I can make this list very very long. But I don't. Sorry. But you get the point), etc. Nevertheless, we unify. We come together because we see passed those differences. And, when we look beyond those differences and unite, as one man, we begin to care about each other so much that we start caring about each other's desires, as well. Our unity causes us to eventually have the same heart. "Ke'Ish Echad, Be'lev Echad" - "As one man, with one heart." We come together, irrespective of whether or not we have the same goals. When you care about other Jews, you care about what he cares about. That will ultimately cause us to have the same goals.

What's the message to learn from here? There are plenty, and each can extrapolate his own. But there is one thing about this D'var Torah that really hit home for me. What unites our enemies? The fact that they hate the Jew. You know, there is this guy in my yeshiva - 22 years old. Last week, he came back from fighting in Gaza as part of one of the ground forces. To make a long story short, he had three bullets shot at him - one of them when between his legs. Baruch Hashem, none actually hit him, but all were within a foot of him. When this guy was shooting at him, he probably had one thing in mind - "Jew."

The Jewish people always have enemies. That's just something that we are very good at (along with making money). When there is a Jew somewhere, you can bet that there is someone there who wants his blood. We have no trouble in gaining enemies.

The question is, when there are so many people who hate us, why would we ever, for a second, hate one another? How can one Jew ever call his fellow Jew an enemy? Does it make any sense? We are one nation, and no matter what our wishes or ideals are, we are still one nation. Differences in our hearts should not keep us apart from each other. We shouldn't have to have a common goal with one another, as the Egyptians needed, to want to unite with our brothers and sisters.

Look, it may be hard to love every Jew. You don't even know every Jew, so it's impossible. But to hate? Can't be. If you have ill-feelings toward someone, get rid of them. Fix the problem. That doesn't mean you have to be best friends with him/her. You don't even have to speak so often. But you should never - NEVER - have any hatred in you heart toward a fellow Jew. It is simply unacceptable.

May we all grow closer to one another. May we try to be more considerate and sensitive to each other's feelings. May we know how to complement each other's voids. And may we make an effort to come together, "Ke'Ish Echad" - "As one man," so much so that we will consequently come to having similar goals as well, "Ke'Ish Echad, Be'lev Echad" - "As one man, with one heart." And in the zechut of our achdut (unity), may Hashem see how his children are living harmoniously together and send His mashiach so that we can leave harmoniously with Him, as well.

Sorry for boring all those whom I've bored, but you didn't have to read up to here, so I'm not sooo sorry.

The days are coming, the days going...we aren't completely united. Get to work. Think of three people with whom you have a poor relationship and fix it up.

My Best Regards,

Avraham Adam Sabzevari

Parashat Va'era - Pesach Fever

Hello Everyone!

For this week's D'var Torah, I would like to share something that Rabbi Chesir shared with us in tenth grade, in the name of Rav Avraham Y. Bick, in the year 1983. It is simply amazing, it answers up a lot of questions, and it helps understand the entire story on a whole different level. You can't just read it in two minutes. And the D'var Torah really spans over three weeks, so you can read it for last week, this week, next week, for Pesach, or just whenever you want to be enthralled by Torah.
And feel free to forward this to anyone you'd like.
First, I will pose some questions, and then offer his explanation, which is simply beautiful.

(1) In Parashat Va'era, the ten plagues begin. Hashem starts smiting the Egyptians for the cruelty they carried out. One after another, plague after plague. However, in this week's parasha, the ten plagues don't end. We are learn about seven of them this week. The final three are in next week's parasha, Parashat Bo. Why? Why would Hashem separate the Eser Makkot into two different parashiyot? Why not have one parasha covering the theme of the ten plagues? Is it just by chance that this is the way they were broken up, or is there a more fundamental reason? Perhaps the first seven occurred for one reason, and the final three came for another reason? (Foreshadowing...)

(2) In his commentary regarding the ninth plague (i.e. darkness), Rashi (quoting a Midrash) asks, "Why did he bring darkness on [the Egyptians]?" What did they do to receive such an punishment? Two answers. One, there were evil people among the Jews in that generation who didn't want to leave Egypt, and they died out during those days of darkness so that the Egyptians will not see their demise. The Egyptians would think that Hashem was killing everyone: Jews and Egyptians alike. Imagine the chilul Hashem (desecration to Hashem's name). Therefore, Hashem brought the plague of darkness so that 80% of the Jewish population can pass away and have the burial processions, and the Egyptians would never even know about it. Second answer, it would be a way for the Jews to get rich. What do I mean? During the darkness, the Jews went into the Egyptian houses and searched to find out where they hide all of their riches. Then, when they were leaving Egypt, the Jews would go to the Egyptians and say, "Hey. What's up? Do you have anything expensive for me?" Egyptians would respond, "No, I'm sorry, we don't have anything." Jew - "Are you sure?" Egyptian - "Yeah, I'm so sorry that we can't help. But we'll miss you so so much. Please do come back!" Jew- "Oh, that's so sweet of you. I always had a dream that we would come back and have our kids play together in the town pyramidal parks. But before I go, are you sure you don't have a Rolex hidden between yours two pillows, a 12-carrot diamond ring in the fourth drawer of your desk in the basement, and just a bar of gold sitting in the secret hiding spot behind the picture frame above your fireplace?" Egyptian - "Oooohhhhh! That's what you meant by riches. I thought you were talking about saddles for the camels, which I don't have. You should have been more specific! Gosh, of course I have those three things in those exact locations. I'll be back with them in a jiffy." Jew- "Oh yeah, give me your earrings, too. Thanks, love you!" And so it happened. The Jews became rich because when the Egyptians denied having anything expensive things, the Jews told them that they knew exactly where the riches were, and so the Egyptians were forced to hand it over. (Note: Look at the beauty of the Jews. They could have just stolen everything. The Egyptians would not be able to stop them, and they wouldn't even know who took it. But whether or not the Egyptians are watching, we understand that Hashem is watching, and we would never do something that is unjust.) In any event, what's the question that I have on this? Rashi asks on the ninth plague, "Why did He bring darkness on them?" Hello! Rashi, where were you for the first eight plagues? Why didn't you ask, "Why did he bring the plague of blood on them?...the plague of frogs?...lice?...wild animals?...etc..." Why wasn't Rashi bothered by any of the other plagues, but he is so curious as to why Hashem brought darkness on them?

(3) As a continuation to the last point, Rashi doesn't even answer the question! He asked, "Why did Hashem bring darkness on them - on the Egyptians? What did they do to receive such a punishment? What are the two answers? So that Jews can get buried, or so that Jews can get rich! That explains why the JEWS had darkness. These two answers do not explain what the Egyptians did to receive darkness. What's going on here?

(4) I'm not sure where this is from, but if I'm not mistaken, there is a Midrash that explains that the ten plagues progressively become worse and harder to handle. The plague of blood was awful, but it got worse when the frogs came around. And even worse were the lice. And the wild animals were harsher. Pestilence - harder to deal with. You get the point. It all ultimately comes down to Makkot Bechorot, the plague of the firstborn, during which every household experienced a death and was mourning. That was worst, beyond the shadow of a doubt. But let's go back to our ninth plague, darkness. Was it so bad? Does it deserve to be second to worst, falling short of first to the nation-wide mourning? If I had to pick one plague to experience, I would pick Darkness in a second. You don't even have to do anything! You just stay still for a week. Like, they didn't even remember what happened. That can't be worse than not having any water to drink, or having boils on your skin, or having wild animals waiting outside your house to eat you for supper. In fact, it's a vacation. Like I think I can use a week off. Why not? It shouldn't be second to last! So why do we view it as such a harsh plague?

(5) In the beginning of Parashat Bo, when Pharaoh finally acquiesced to Moshe's request of letting the Jews go serve their G-d, there was a long dialogue between between them. To simplify it, Pharaoh asked, "Who will be going to serve Hashem?" Moshe responded, "Everyone and everything. Men, women, boys, girls, grandpas, grandmas, sheep, cows. The whole mishpacha. We all need to go serve our G-d." Pharaoh responded, "Nope. Only the men are going. No one else. Just the MEN."
Question: What's this about? Was is just a mere negotiation? It was Moshe's job as the savior to take everyone and everything out of Egypt, and it was Pharaoh's job as the cruel adversary to hold on to as many slaves as he can? Or was there something deeper going on in this argument?

(1) Why are the ten plagues split up into two parshiyot (seven and three)?
(2) Why does Rashi ask the reason for only one plague (i.e. Darkness)?
(3) Why does Rashi not answer the question he asked?
(4) Why was Darkness at the end if it wasn't even so bad?
(5) What's behind Moshe and Pharaoh's argument regarding who gets to leave Egypt?

Alright. Here's the answer. Be'te'avon!

In Parashat Shemot (4:22-23), toward the end, Hashem tells Moshe to tell Pharaoh the following: "This is what Hashem said, 'Yisrael is My son, My firstborn. And I have said to you, send out My son and let him serve Me. If you refuse to send him, I will slay your firstborn son.'" Basically, Hashem says that as a punishment for enslaving the Jews, He will kill the firstborn of Pharaoh, and of all the Egyptians, as well. That's it. No Eser Makkot. No songs. No stories on Pesach night. Just one plague: Makkat Bechorot. So where do the other nine plagues come in? What is the reason for them? What did the Egyptians do to deserve the other nine?
When Moshe says this whole message to Pharaoh (first time he's seeing his grandpa), Pharaoh responds (5:2), "Who is this Hashem, that I should obey His voice, to let Yisrael go? I don't know Him. Furthermore, I will not let the Jews go." There are two things that Pharaoh says here, both of which are bad. First, he disgraces Hashem. He made it seem as though he had never even heard of Hashem. He took out his gods-encyclopedia and didn't find Hashem listed in it. He said that Hashem is not really a god and can't do anything. Second, he disgraced the Jews. It would be one thing if he said, "I don't know Hashem. Therefore, I will not send the Jews." But that's not what he said. He said, "Ve'gam - Furthermore, I will not send the Jews free," because they are a worthless people, and they deserve to be nothing more than slaves. They aren't a special nation, and therefore, even if I knew Who their G-d was, I still wouldn't let them go, because they're nothing special.
Woah! He just shamed Hashem and His people. So he'll get what he deserves. The plague of the firstborn is a punishment for enslaving the Jews. Now, Hashem will punish Pharaoh for disgracing Him and His people. And all that begins in Parashat Va'era. Hashem starts by punishing him for saying, "I don't know of this Hashem you speak of." He starts with the plague of blood. Pharaoh doesn't apologize. Fine. Smite him with frogs. Still no apology. Next, lice. And so on, and so forth. After plague number seven - hail (9:27), Pharaoh calls to Moshe and Aharon and says, "I have sinned. Hashem is the righteous One. I and my people are the sinners." And there it is. Pharaoh, the very person who said he doesn't know Hashem, is now acknowledging Hashem's existence, and His superiority. Perfect. That's the end of that. END OF THE PARASHA! That's the end of Parashat Va'era. Parashat Va'era was speaking about the plagues Pharaoh received for not acknowledging Hashem's existence. Hashem performed miracle after miracle until he had no choice. And when that happened, the parasha is over. (If you are interested in the specific things each plague was corresponding to, there are many commentaries who offer various explanations as to what the message was behind each and every plague. But overall, the main point was to make the Egyptians realize, "Who is this Hashem, that I should obey His voice, to let Yisrael go?") (Answer 1)
Although Pharaoh apologized about disgracing Hashem Himself, he's still guilty of shaming the Jews and not apologizing for it. He still feels that the Jews are worthless, and even though Hashem is Awesome, the Jews don't deserve to leave. And this entire idea manifests itself in the dialogue between Moshe and Pharaoh. The Jews are going to serve Hashem. And Pharaoh understand that. But who does the services? Who brings the sacrifices? Who takes care of the korbanot? Who is in charge of the prayers? Is it the children? Is it the elderly? Is it the women? Is it the cows or sheep? Of course not! It's just the men. And so Pharaoh realizes that they have to leave to serve this All-Powerful G-d of theirs, but only the men have to go. They will take care of the services, and then return. But Moshe was trying to explain something deeper to Pharaoh. In Judaism, it's not just about who offers the cow as a korban, or who prayers for the congregation. Serving Hashem isn't bound to a couple minutes a day. OUR LIVES ARE FILLED WITH SERVING HASHEM. When the Egyptians eat, they eat to fill their stomachs. But when Jews it, it's not just something we do because we are hungry. We do it so that we will be fully nourished so that we will have the strength to serve Hashem. Eating food isn't about us. It's about Him. We need food to serve Him, so we eat. This is with everything. Egyptians exercise so that they will be strong so that they can make bigger buildings, or to impress each other. But Jews exercise to stay healthy to live longer, in order to serve Hashem longer. They sleep because they are tired. We sleep to get energy, in order to serve Him. Considering all this, are the services limited to the men? Of course not! The women are half the population. They are doing 50% of the services to Hashem. They eat, sleep, and exercise as well. They are serving Hashem the entire day long. How can the B'nei Yisrael leave without the women? Or the kids? They serve Hashem too! Or the elderly? Or the animals? We use the animals to travel or to eat, both of which we do for one reason...and I'm sure you can guess it - to serve Hashem! HOWEVER, Pharaoh couldn't understand this. He thought, "C'mon. The Jews stink. Who are you kidding? They're worthless. They don't know how to serve anything. Send your men, let them do what they gotta do, and get back to work." (Answer 5)
And so the plagues begin again. In Parashat Bo, we have the eighth plague, locust. And after the eighth plague (10:16), Pharaoh says, "I have sinned to Hashem and to you (ve'lachem)." And there it is. He apologized to the Jews for shaming them. Now, he has a clean slate. He apologized for shaming Hashem. He apologized for shaming the Jews. The only punishment left is for enslaving the Jews, and that is Makkat Bechorot. But hold on a second. If Pharaoh apologized after the eighth plague, and the plague of the firstborns was the tenth plague, what is the ninth one (Darkness) for? Seemingly, it's extra! Where is it coming from? What did the Egyptians do to deserve this one? And this explains why Rashi was only puzzled by this plague. This plague, and no other plague. Because this plague seems to have no reason behind it. (Answer 2)
So what is the answer? What did the Egyptians do to deserve Darkness? It wasn't for enslaving the Jews, nor was it for shaming Hashem or the Jews. So what's it for? What did Rashi say? Two answers: So that the Jews can bury their dead without causing a chillul Hashem or so that the Jews can get rich. What's the real answer? It's not a punishment! Darkness was not a punishment at all. It was a favor for the Jews. They were about to leave Egypt, and they had to prepare. Rashi's answer is saying that Hashem didn't really bring it as a punishment on the Egyptians. Instead, it is just a favor for the Jews. (Answer 3)
And this also explains our fourth question: All of the plagues would progressively get worse as they went along, but darkness wasn't a plague. Therefore, even though it was second to last, it wasn't that bad because it wasn't meant to be bad. (Answer 4)

And so there it is. There is a whole different perspective on the reason for majority of the plagues. Sorry if I didn't present it as eloquently as it deserves to be presented, and I appreciate it that you even got up to here. This is probably the longest email that I have ever written, ever. And so I hope you enjoy it. Please let me know what you think about it.

Take care of yourself.

Truly Yours,
Now and Forever,
Avraham Adam Sabzevari

Parashat Vayigash - Your Love

Shalom to all,

First, I would like to apologize for not having sent out an email is a while. There's no excuse. Other than that I'm a lazy bum.

I hope all is going well with everyone. As you all know, the situation in Israel is very tense right now. We should all have the safety of our country and of our brethren in mind. With our tefillot, extra efforts, and the help of Hashem, Hashem will take care of us.

At the end of this week's parasha, Yaakov Avinua and Yosef HaTzadik are reunited, after 22 years of being apart. This is what the Torah says regarding their reunion: "Yosef went up to greet his father...When he appreared before him, he fell on his shoulder, and cried for a very long time." There are various interpretations for this passuk. One of the most common interpretations is that Yosef started crying on Yaakov's shoulder. Yaakov then says that he can now die, after seeing that Yosef is alive.

There is one obvious, glaring question. Yaakov has been mourning for the past 22 years. No one could console him. Yosef was his favorite son, the one whom he invested so much love in. The Chachamim tell us that Yaakov didn't have any prophecies during these 22 years because Hashem doesn't speak to people when they are depressed, and Yaakov was exactly that -- depressed. So after 22 years, you finally see him. Where are the emotions?!? Your son is crying! Why aren't you crying, Yaakov?

What makes this question even stronger is that the Midrash explains that Yaakov wasn't crying because he was busy saying Keriyat Shema. You know, Shema Yisrael. He was saying that now, so he didn't really have time for Yosef this minute. What's going on? Why was Yaakov interrupting this moment with Shema?

Well, I didn't really hear a shiur or anything on this, so if anyone has a response, I would love to hear it. Please send it to me.

But i looked up a couple sefarim, and I found a couple answers, and naturally, I've saved what I thought was the more powerful one for last.

(1) Right now was the time in the morning to say Shema, and righteous people will do a mitzvah immediately, as soon as they have the opportunity. So Yaakov has to say Shema right now. If that's true, why wasn't Yosef saying Shema? That's because according to halacha, there are certain situations when you can interrupt your recital of Shema, namely when greeting your father. Therefore, Yosef didn't have to say Shema, but Yaakov did. This answers the question, but perhaps there is more to this.

(2) In Shema, we proclaim that Hashem is ONE. He was, is, and always will be the same Hashem. He never changes. He doesn't fluctuate between being nice and being mean. Yaakov had a hard time during the past 22 years. He didn't understand why Hashem would put him through that pain. He always knew that what Hashem was doing was for the best, but he never truly felt it. This is evident from the fact that he just simply could not be consoled. He didn't understand that it was for the best. However, at this very moment, when he sees Yosef for the first time in 22 years, he has this understanding that Hashem is awesome, and that everything He does is just perfect. He was very happy to see his son. He said to himself, "Just as I think this moment is perfect, the past 22 years were perfect as well, because it is all just ONE HASHEM, ONE G-D, Hashem Elokeinu Hashem ECHAD. He doesn't change." Everything He does is always for the best, whether I realize is or not. And I want to fully internalize that right now.

(3) There is another aspect to Shema. How does the first paragraph of Shema begin? "Ve'ahavta et Hashem Elokecha" - "You should love Hashem, your G-d, with all your heart, soul, and possessions." We are all commanded to love Hashem, as much as we possibly can - with all our hearts. This is a very difficult level to reach. Just think about it. Think about every person you love in this world. Every hobby you have. Anything that ever made you happy. Combine all of those moments of love, and you have to love Hashem more than that. It's a very hard task to achieve. Yaakov Avinu also understood that it was very hard to love Hashem with all his heart. When he finally saw his son after thinking that he was brutally torn apart by wild beasts, there was so much love. Uncontainable love. His heart was burning with an uncontrollable love toward Yosef. Yaakov never felt anything like this before. The emotions were flying. And then it hit him -- "This is the way I should be loving Hashem." And so he did. At the climax of his happiness, at the happiest moment of his life, he forgot about himself, and immediately accepted the Heavenly Yoke upon himself, expressing his loyalty and love to Hashem. It's almost as though he said, "Dear Hashem. Right now is the happiest moment in my life. And it is in that very moment that I will declare that You are my G-d, and that I love you. This is the most I will ever be able to love anyone, ever, and I am channeling all of that love - every last bit of it - to You." And it is for this very reason that Yaakov then says that He is ready to die now. He has now reached the highest level he will ever reach, and he feels that he has completed his service, and that he can now leave this world having accomplished the highest connection and closest to Hashem possible.

I'm not sure if that was clear, so for a one sentence summary: Since there were so many emotions flying around and so much love at this moment of reunion, he wanted to direct all that love toward Hashem, and did so by reciting Shema at that moment.

May we all reach this level. May we all have a burning love for Hashem. There are many ways to reach that level. One way, as we have learned from Yaakov Avinua A"H is to take the love that we have for our families, spouses, and friends, and try to channel that love to Hashem. When we have real examples of what it means to love Hashem, we should use that.

Another very simple way to attain complete love for Hashem is by knowing how much Hashem loves you. By counting our blessings and seeing how many things we have, from the basic abilites of eating, walking, and seeing, to the more explicit miracles (we can all think of our own examples), it can be fairly easy to be deeply in love with Him, when all He does is give.

Shabbat Shalom!

My love to all of you,

But all of my love to the Big Man Upstairs...

and this is what has become of my humor....

Adam