Weekly D’var Torah

These scenarios are all pretty ridiculous, right? Technically, could all these folks get the job done? Sure, absolutely. However, it would take forever, and while they’re only able to take care of one customer a day, their competitors can look after far more clientele. Their methods can all be summed up with one word – “inefficiency” – and are a surefire way and textbook example of how to go out of business quickly.

These vignettes seem so absurd that they border on the verge of delusion. However, they are surprisingly close to one of the episodes found in this week’s parsha of Yitro (Exodus 18:1-20:23). In it, we find Moses acting as the sole arbiter and judge for 600,000 men (not including women and children)(Exodus 18:13). Upon observing this, Yitro (Jethro), Moses’s father-in-law, gives his son-in-law a much-needed heart-to-heart:

“What is this thing that you are doing to the people? Why do you act alone, while all the people stand about you from morning until evening? The thing you are doing is not right; you will surely wear yourself out, and these people as well. For the task is too heavy for you; you cannot do it alone. Now listen to me. I will give you counsel, and God be with you! You represent the people before God: you bring the disputes before God, and enjoin upon them the laws and the teachings, and make known to them the way they are to go and the practices they are to follow. You shall also seek out, from among all the people, those who are capable and who fear God—trustworthy ones who spurn ill-gotten gain. Set these over them as chiefs of thousands, hundreds, fifties, and tens, and let them judge the people at all times. Have them bring every major dispute to you, but let them decide every minor dispute themselves. Make it easier for yourself by letting them share the burden with you. If you do this—and God so commands you—you will be able to bear up; and all these people too will go home unwearied.” (*Exodus 18:14, 17-23)

Yitro’s lesson applies not just to the worlds of governance and business, but indeed every corner and facet of our lives.

When most people think of charity (tzedakah) and good deeds (ma’asim tovim) such as volunteering, traits and descriptors like kindness, grace, mercy, love, friendship, understanding, sympathy, selflessness, and sweetness immediately come to the forefront. Fair enough. I would argue that for most people, in the context of giving of themselves to others, two of the least associated words are “efficiency” and “effectiveness.”

If you were to ask people why they donate to charity, volunteer their time in community organizations, and give of themselves to noble causes, I’m sure one of the most common answers would be “I want to help people and make the world a better place.” After all, Tikkun Olam (repair of the world) is a central middah (value) in the life of the Jewish people.

However, this is where efficiency and effectiveness come in. There is a widely known parable: “Give a man a fish, he eats for the day; teach him how to fish and he eats for the rest of his days.” To this end, the Rambam taught, “The greatest level that has nothing above it is to strengthen the hand of a Jew who has become poor and give him a gift or loan or create a partnership with him or make up some work for him, so as strengthen his hand until he does not [any longer] need to ask others [for help]. And about this it is said (Leviticus 25:35), ‘and you shall strengthen the hand of a stranger and a resident and he shall live with you;’ meaning, strengthen him until he no [longer] falls and becomes needy.”[*1]

In other words, the Rambam is saying that the most effective AND most moral thing you can do is to get this person to a level of self-sufficiency and away from a life, in the words of Blanche DuBois, of “I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.” That should be our goal and the game plan from day one.

There are a myriad of wonderful charitable organizations out there that seek to do the right thing; however, many of them are far from efficient. There are also many of us who want to and seek to do good and make positive change in the world; however, many of those efforts and activities are far from effective.

Part of the process of doing and being good is taking time for self-reflection and asking ourselves some hard questions like, “Are the charitable organizations I’m supporting actually bringing about meaningful change?” as well as “Is what I’m doing truly making a palpable, tangible difference?”

Parsha Yitro is a holy challenge. Perhaps it’s telling us that it’s not enough to be good; we’re meant to be efficient and effective when it comes to being good.

Bizrat HaShem, may we all heed the words of Yitro and the Rambam and teach others how to fish.

I pray this finds you all well.

One of the most meaningful and heartfelt B’nai Mitzvah projects I ever witnessed took place when I was a student rabbi. At my student pulpit, one of my Bat Mitzvah students decided that she would make brown-bagged lunches for the homeless folks in her city. After preparing each lunch, the Bat Mitzvah student and her mom would drive around town and give them to the destitute who were begging for change on the side of the road.

I was reminded, and quite frankly inspired and humbled, by my bat mitzvah student’s selfless and caring act of chesed shel emet (an act of true loving kindness) when I sat down to write this homily. In this week’s parsha of Beshalach (Exodus 13:17-17:16), we read that after safely crossing the Sea of Reeds and arriving in the Wilderness, the people have no food and begin to speak out against Moses and Aaron (Exodus 16:2-3). God tells Moses, “I will rain down bread for you from the sky, and the people shall go out and gather each day that day’s portion..” (*Exodus 16:4). We are further told, “The house of Israel named it manna; it was like coriander seed, white, and it tasted like wafers in honey…And the Israelites ate manna forty years, until they came to a settled land; they ate the manna until they came to the border of the land of Canaan.” (*Exodus 16:31, 35)

I’ve always been fascinated by the sacred call to “walk in God’s ways” that is spelled out in Deuteronomy 19:9. It’s a beautiful petition, but I’ve always wondered how can we, mere mortals, despite all of our accomplishments, actually walk the walk of the Eternal- that which has no corporeal body, that which is not bound to mortality, form, or time, that which has known all, knows all, and will know all, that which is the author of life and death, that which is the knower of history and future, that which is the judge of the judges, that which is the kings of kings, and that which is the master of the universe?

Thus, I would argue that by giving food to the hungry, we are in fact walking the same holy path by which God sustained our ancestors with manna.

And here’s the beauty of giving food to the hungry. It’s not herculean- it’s not immense, it’s not like damming a raging river, tunneling through a mountain, or trying to reach the moon. In fact, it’s the result of each one of us doing our part in rather manageable, tangible, palpable, and doable ways. What does that mean? Perhaps it’s organizing a canned food drive at your synagogue, office, or civic club; participating in a community garden where the entire harvest goes to the needy; buying one- just one- extra item every time you go to the grocery store and taking it to the local food pantry; or like my bat mitzvah student and her mom, preparing bagged lunches for those begging on the side of the road.

When I’m reminded of such noble endeavors, I think of two powerful pieces of scripture. This first, near the end of the Torah proclaims: “It is not in the heavens, that you should say, ‘Who among us can go up to the heavens and get it for us and impart it to us, that we may observe it?’ Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say, ‘Who among us can cross to the other side of the sea and get it for us and impart it to us, that we may observe it?’ No, the thing is very close to you, in your mouth and in your heart, to observe it.” (*Deuteronomy 30:12-14). The second from the Talmud Yerushalmi declares, “anybody who preserves a single life, it is counted as if he preserved an entire world.” (*Sanhedrin 4:9)

Thus, every tomato from our garden, every tuna sandwich in that bagged lunch, and every can of soup that goes from our grocery cart to the food pantry is the equivalent of the life-saving manna that God used to preserve and sustain the lives of our people in the harshness and austerity of the Wilderness.

Bizrat HaShem, with God’s divine example, may we all be challenged and inspired to lead canned food drives, plant gardens, and perform acts of tzedakah (acts of charitable giving) wherever we live for those who are hungry.

Wishing you all a Good Shabbos and a great weekend.

For China, it’s most likely Peking Duck, which takes over 24 hours to prepare as the meat is hung after being covered in layered glazes of honey, soy sauce, and five-spice powder.

And for our good ‘Ol US of A, nothing says America more and nothing more proudly announces the 4th of July better than a good ‘ol fashioned backyard grilled cheeseburger, complemented by pickles, lettuce, tomatoes, and onions, enhanced with yellow mustard, mayo, and ketchup, seasoned with salt and pepper, and all sandwiched together by lightly toasted brioche buns.

Besides being visually stunning, absolutely delicious works of culinary art and tragically and heartbreakingly treyf (not kosher) (either because of their ingredients or in their preparation), what do all these savory delights have in common? They’re complex and they take time to prepare and make.

And what, drum roll, is the gourmet centerpiece of the Jewish people you might ask?

Simply put, I would argue, it’s matzah.

MATZAH?!?! MATZAH?!?! Are you out of your mind?

Unleavened bread?!?! You mean that simple, brittle, tasteless cracker that leaves both crumbs everywhere and our gut motility in disarray that we are forced to eat for 7-8 days days every spring, all while mournfully forgoing our heavenly favorites like fettuccine alfredo, french bread, lasagna, tortellini, pizza, linguine, penne, lo mein, udon noodles, and even cheerios, as our Christian friends and neighbors are feasting and rejoicing over their delicious and painstakingly prepared Easter hams? Yes, that matzah.

But what about challah, chumantashen, latkes, and sufganiyot, bagels, lox, and schmear, or perhaps even kugel? After all, they’re far more tasty. Matzah, however, I contend, goes to the heart of the Jewish experience.

In this week’s parsha of Bo (Exodus 10:1-13:16), we read: “And they [the Israelites] baked unleavened cakes of the dough that they had taken out of Egypt, for it was not leavened, since they had been driven out of Egypt and could not delay; nor had they prepared any provisions for themselves.” (*Exodus 12:39)

The description of what Matzah is meant to represent goes in many polar directions according to various sacred texts and noble teachers.

For instance, in the standard Haggadah, we are told to hold up a piece of matzah and declare at the Passover seder: “Lo! this is as the bread of affliction, which our ancestors ate in the land of Egypt”[*1]

On the other hand, in the Mishnah, Rabban Gamaliel says: “Whoever does not make mention of these three things on Pesachdoes not fulfill his duty. And these are they: the pesach, matzah, and bitter herbs. The pesach because the Omnipresent passed over the houses of our fathers in Egypt. The matzah because our fathers were redeemed from Egypt. The bitter herb because the Egyptians embittered the lives of our fathers in Egypt.” (*Mishnah Pesachim 10.a.5)

There it is…matzah is the symbol of both our affliction and our redemption! On the surface this seems like a contradiction. In reality though, matzah serves to remind us of the totality of the Jewish, and even the human, experience. As Jews, throughout our wonderings, we have experienced the ultimate triumphs (the blessing of Torah, the gift of Talmud, the numerous incredible Jewish luminaires who have made the world a better place, and the ingathering of the exiles) and the lowest of the lows (the destruction of the two temples, the expulsions, the inquisitions, the pogroms, the Holocaust, the intifadas, and October 7th). On a personal level, matzah can stress to us that life is neither all good nor all bad, but rather a God-given journey that takes us over mountain peaks and valley troughs, and everything in between.

Just as matzah acknowledges the totality of life, Bizrat HaShem, with God’s help, let us all seek to challenge ourselves to never shirk away, but rather embrace all that life is and all that life has to offer.

God says to Moses:

“I have now heard the moaning of the Israelites because the Egyptians are holding them in bondage, and I have remembered My covenant. Say, therefore, to the Israelite people: ‘I am Adonai. I will free you from the labors of the Egyptians and deliver you from their bondage. I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and through extraordinary chastisements. And I will take you to be My people, and I will be your God. And you shall know that I, Adonai, am your God who freed you from the labors of the Egyptians. I will bring you into the land which I swore to give to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and I will give it to you for a possession, I Adonai’(*Exodus 6:6-6:8).”

Imagine, for a moment, if God had freed our ancestors from Egyptian bondage and gotten them across the Red Sea only to then deposit them in the Wilderness with the parting adieu “good luck to ya.” Despite the rousing seder song Dayeinu where we proclaim that anything that God did for our people would have been more than enough, we know that if it not had been for God’s constant and direct involvement, divine intervention, protection, sustainment, education, and guidance during the forty years in the desert, the Jewish people would most likely have been swallowed up by the sand dunes and consigned to the forgotten and overlooked dust-filled shelves of yellow-tinged history books. Yet because of God’s continual love and attention, we are still here, living as a vibrant and proud people.

The Promises of Redemption are far more than a meta-level teaching. They are a model for how we are to conduct ourselves at work, in the community, and at home.

To this end, in Kiddushin of the Talmud, we are taught the following: “…A father is obligated in regards to his son…to teach him Torah…and to teach him a trade. And some say: ‘A father is also obligated to teach his son to swim…’”(Kiddushin 29a.10) Rabbi Yehuda drives home the point proclaiming: “Any father who does not teach his son a trade teaches him banditry(*Ibid).”

If we simply do the bare minimum, strive only to meet the standard but not go beyond it, and just check the boxes when it comes to being parents, spouses, siblings and children, clergy and laity, and all other places where we are stakeholders, we create a malaise where we all suffer. However, if we do more than what is required of us, just as God did with our people, then the return on our investment is infinite.

No matter how good a job we’re doing as husbands and wives, moms and dads, brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, employers and employees, and clergy and laity, parshat Va’eira and the Promises of Redemption therein present a challenge for each one of us – to step up our game, to do more than the minimum, to take our involvement to the next level, and to be fully involved and committed with the people and things we cherish and care about. Let us challenge ourselves to go above and beyond!

The 15 Victims of the Bondi Beach Massacre: Matilda (10 years old), Rabbi Eli Schlanger, Dan Elkayam, Holocaust survivor Alexander Kleytman, husband and wife Boris and Sofia Gurman, Peter Meagher, Reuven Morrison, Rabbi Yaakov Levitan, Tibor Weitzen, Marika Pogany, Edith Brutman, Boris Tetleroyd, and Adam Smyth

Those who made the ultimate sacrifice for our country while deployed to Syria: SGT Edgar Brian Torres-Tovar, 25, of Des Moines, Iowa, 1st Squadron, 113th Cavalry Regiment Iowa Army National Guard; SGT William Nathaniel Howard, 29, Marshalltown, Iowa 1st Squadron, 113th Cavalry Regiment Iowa Army National Guard; US Army civilian interpreter Ayad “Eddie” Mansoor Sakat, 54, a husband and father of four.

The victims of the Brown University and MIT shootings: Ella Cook, 19, of Birmingham, Alabama; Mukhammad Aziz Umurzokov, 18, of Midlothian, Virginia; Professor Nuno Loureiro, 47, of Portugal

May their memories and legacies burn as brightly as the Chanukiyah, and as we look into the flames, may be inspired to remember them and carry on their noble legacies.

This D’var is also dedicated in grateful appreciation and humble thanks to Mr. Ahmed al-Ahmed, a Muslim shopkeeper, who valiantly and selflessly disarmed one of the terrorist gunmen during the Bondi Beach Massacre. He is more than deserving of the title “Righteous Among the Nations.” His bravery is an inspiration to all of us.

Shabbat Shalom and Chag Urim Sameach- Happy Chanukah.

Despite all that is going on in the world, I pray this finds you all safe and well.

For me, one of the most powerful photographs in Jewish history was taken by Rebbetzin Rachel Posner, the wife of Dr. Rabbi Akiva Posner, in Kiel, Germany in 1931. On her window sill, she placed a simple menorah adorned with the Magen David, the Star of David, the symbol of the Jewish people. “So what?” you might ask. Well, across the street there was a large Swastika, the emblem of the Nazi Party, and of Germany itself during the rule of Adolf Hitler. By overtly and boldly placing the menorah in open view, she was not only following the rabbinic precept to display the chanukiyah (the Chanukah menorah) in plain view, but was also defying the Nazis and their disgusting ideology. A small, plain menorah it seemed, was standing up to the full might of the Nazis.

On the back of the photograph, the Rebbetzin wrote:

“‘Death to Judah’
So the flag says
‘Judah will live forever’
So the light answers.”[1]

What is terrorism?

My definition: intimidation, subversion, misinformation, coercion, threatening, stalking, shaming, harassment, vandalism, bullying, humiliation, silencing, isolating, ostracizing, doxxing, assault, and murder. These are the tools of terrorism and the weapons of the terrorist. The goal of the terrorist is simple: to silence anyone and everyone who opposes their agenda.

When the Antiochus IV Epiphanes of the Seleucid empire carried out his reign of terror in Judea in the middle of the 2nd century BCE he and his minions used everything they had in their arsenal to cow the Jewish people into submission and even turn them away from Torah and God. Whether it involved erecting a statue of Zeus or sacrificing a pig in the Temple in Jerusalem to the destruction of Torah scrolls, the prohibition of brit milah (circumcision), and the executions of Hannah and her seven sons for refusing to bow before him, the Seleucids attacked every meaningful facet of Jewish life.

Sadly, during the last few days, we, the Jewish people the world over, have borne witness to the fact that the vile antisemitism of Antiochus is unfortunately alive and well in our midst. Whether it was a man screaming vile curses into the ear of a Jewish woman at restaurant in downtown Manhattan, a passenger kicked off an international flight for threatening a Jewish passenger, a stranger on a Brooklyn subway grabbing a Chabad yeshiva student by the coat making a gun sign with his fingers, and threatening to kill him, a menorah vandalized in Queens, a Chabad at Michigan State University having its windows smashed and sprayed with Swastikas, and a Jewish man getting stabbing in the chest in Crown Heights, it’s been a very long, painful, heartbreaking season of antisemitism.[2] And then, to cap it all off, on the first day of Chanukah, 15 people, including a Holocaust survivor, two Rabbis, and a 10 year old girl, were butchered as they celebrated Chag Urim, the Festival of Lights, at Bondi Beach, Australia.

We have to remember that the savagery and ruthlessness of Antiochus is only the first part of the story of Chanukah. What makes Chanukah, well Chanukah, is that Judah Maccabeus and his brothers, inspired by their faith in God, their devotion to Judaism, and the example set by their late father Mattathias, launched a rebellion against Antiochus and the Seleucids. Though outnumbered and outmatched, a small light against an overwhelming dark, the Maccabees eventually prevailed, reclaiming their land, the Temple, and their freedom.

Just as the yoke of the Seleucids must have felt crushing and unbearable to the Maccabees, so too does the scourge of antisemitism feel overwhelming in our day.

What then are we supposed to do?

Simply put- be brave! We must be brave, brave the Maccabees who came before us and passed on a noble legacy to us. But how are we to be brave?

Like Rebbetzin Posner in 1931, we must place the menorah on the window sill for all the world to see. We must take the encouraging and loving words that President Trump gave to the American Jewish community to heart: “Celebrate proudly- be proud of who you are.”[3] And finally, we must answer the call of Rabbi Eli Schlanger (z”l)(al Kiddush HaShem), one of the victims of the Bondi Beach massacre, who, when asked how to combat rising antisemitism in Australia in the months before his untimely death said this: “be more Jewish, act more Jewish, and appear more Jewish.”[4]

Chanukah, like so much of Judaism, is meant to be celebrated and honored in the public place. The second we withdraw into the dark and retreat into the silence, the terrorists have won. When they dictate our lives to us, they’ve accomplished their malicious agenda.

In this trying season, may Aveinu Malkeinu HaKadosh Barch Hu, God imbue each and every one of us with the same resiliency, grit, determination, and bravery as our Maccabean ancestors, Rebbetzin Posner, and Rabbi Schlanger to honor, uphold, and carry forth our beloved Jewish faith.

Wishing you all every bracha for a peaceful Shabbat and Chanukah Sameach.

A second story: a young man who is always glued to his phone is on a cross-country business trip when he gets a flat tire. There’s no cell service, no WiFi…nothing. He’s never done anything remotely mechanical in his life, but without any other option, he opens the car manual and proceeds to put on a spare.

A final story: a young woman is also on a cross-country business trip when her cars break down similarly in the middle of nowhere with a blizzard on the way. With no cell service, she walks to the closest farmhouse. She is hesitant to knock on the door given the fact that there are crosses on the front lawn, as well as political flags on the porch and religious iconography in the windows with which she vehemently disagrees, but with the snow and howling winds closing in and no other viable alternatives, she knocks on the door. The elderly husband and wife that open their home to her treat her like one of the family, so much so in fact, that she is reluctant to leave when the storm passes.

Months later, at a young professionals gathering at their shul, the four tell the Rabbi of their adventures…except, well… they kvetch (complain). “Oy, that fakata pipe”; “Can you believe I had to change a tire in the middle of nowhere”; and “that blizzard was horrific, it could have killed me.” The Rabbi counsels them: “Because of that burst pipe, you two put aside your differences and are now closer as a couple; because of that flat tire, you put down your phone and discovered the value of working with your hands; and because you were stranded in the middle of nowhere, you saw the graciousness and humanity of those with whom you disagree.”

Too often, when confronted with a challenge, a disappointment or setback, or an obstacle, we see it for that and that alone. In this week’s parsha of Vayigash (Genesis 44:18-47:27), however, we are taught that crucibles can in fact bring about brachot (blessings) or be brachas in and of themselves.

When Joseph reveals himself to siblings, they are in fear, believing that after 22 years [1] since they sold him into slavery, he is going to exact a merciless revenge on them for their treachery. Instead he comforts them:

“…do not be distressed or reproach yourselves because you sold me hither; it was to save life that God sent me ahead of you. It is now two years that there has been famine in the land, and there are still five years to come in which there shall be no yield from tilling. God has sent me ahead of you to ensure your survival on earth, and to save your lives in an extraordinary deliverance…” [*Genesis 45:5-7]

In other words, if they not had not acted duplicitously and malevolently, Joseph would never have ended up in a position of power where he could aid his family.

Many years ago, while I was in rabbinical school, I completed a summer unit of Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE) at the Louisville VA. At the door of the VA’s chapel, there was a poem by an unknown soldier from the Civil War. The short poem read as follows:

I asked God for strength, that I might achieve . . .
I was made weak, that I might learn humbly to obey.
I asked for health, that I might do greater things . . .
I was given infirmity, that I might do better things.
I asked for riches, that I might be happy . . .
I was given poverty, that I might be wise.
I asked for power, that I might have the praise of men . . .
I was given weakness, that I might feel the need of God.
I asked for all things, that I might enjoy life . . .
I was given life, that I might enjoy all things.
I got nothing that I asked for—but everything I had hoped for.
Almost despite myself, my unspoken prayers were answered.
I am among all men, most richly blessed![2]

This poem has stayed with me since I first read it, serving as a reminder to always look for a silver lining and grow from all moments in life.

Perhaps, Rebbetzin Dena Weinberg (z”l) of Aish HaTorah put it most succinctly: “There are no problems, only opportunities for growth.”

In a few days it will be 2026. In this new year, Bizrat HaShem, with God’s help, may we resolve and challenge ourselves to look at situations, and indeed life itself, more positively, to find silver linings no matter how dark the storm clouds, and to seek out opportunities for growth.