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The commentators are perplexed. What was the point of the 72 bells handing from the hem of the High Priest’s coat, generating racket and rumpus commotion? Elijah perceived G-d in “the subtle, still voice;” why, then, did the Kohen Gadol constantly generate the loud rattling, clattering voice of seventy-two jingling bells hanging on the hem of his coat?

This class offers four divergent perspectives, and then offers a fifth perspective, which gets to the core of the human struggle to make peace with itself and with G-d. Do we experience truth in the silence of sound, or in the sound of silence?

This class, presented to women on Parshas Terumah 5768 (2008), explores a majopr debate about the Cherubs hver the Holy Ark.

Foremost among the commentaries compiled by our sages on the Torah are those by Rashi (Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki, 1040-1105) and Nachmanides (Rabbi Moshe ben Nachman, 1194-1270). Rashi defines his goal by stating: “I come only to explain the simple meaning of the verse.” On the other hand, Nachmanides, a noted mystic and kabbalist, often uncovers a “deeper” stratum of significance in the Torah’s words, exposing its students, as he puts it in his introduction to his commentary on Torah, to “delightful things, for those who know and understand the hidden wisdom.”

Rashi and Nachmanides often differ in their interpretation of a particular word or verse. One example of this is their different conceptions of the kapporet and the keruvim. Rashi sees the ark and the kapporet as two different objects. The Sanctuary contained various “vessels,” each with a designated function (e.g., the menorah, the altars); according to Rashi the ark and the kapporet are two different vessels—it is only that the designated place of the kapporet is atop the ark. Nachmanides, on the other hand, sees the kapporet as the cover of the ark (indeed, the word kapporet means “cover”)—as a component of the ark itself, rather than another of the Sanctuary’s vessels.

Another difference between the interpretations of Rashi and Nachmanides concerns the form of the keruvim. According to Rashi, these were two winged figures, each with the face of a child (a boy and a girl). Nachmanides is of the opinion that they were a representation of the celestial figures seen by the prophet Ezekiel in his vision of the divine “chariot.”

This class explores the underlying argument behind them, and their dramatic relevance to our lives today.

The Talmud relates a profoundly strange incident that occurred moments before the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple: “When the pagans entered the Holy Temple, they saw the cherubs (the two golden winged figures, one male and one female located in the "Holy of Holies") cleaving to each other. They took them out to the streets and said: ‘These Jews ... is this what they occupy themselves with?’ With this, they debased [the Jewish people], as it is written: ‘All who had honored her have despised her, for they have seen her nakedness.’”

This seems strange. The Talmud also teaches that when the relationship between G-d and Israel was sour, the two faces of the cherubs turned away from each other, as when spouses are angry with each other. When the relationship was healthy, the two faces of the cherubs would face each other.

Yet when the enemies of Israel invaded the Temple to destroy it, and the relationship between G-d and His people was at its lowest possible point, precisely at that moment the cherubs were intertwined, symbolizing the most profound relationship between G-d and Israel. How are we to understand this?

This class explores six different perspectives.

This class, presented to Jewish women in Monsey, NY, on Parshas Mishpatim 5776 (February 2, 2016), revisits the very meaning of "serving G-d."

Why should we enslave ourselves to a G-d? If G-d wants us to be free, why does He want us to serve Him? Is the service of G-d another form of slavery, or the ticket to emotional and psychological freedom?

An Eye for an Eye - Sunday Class - 1/31/2016

One of the first things we did together as a people was sing. But how exactly did three million people sing the same song? There are three Talmudic opinions: Rabbi Akiva, Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Nechmyah. According to the first, Moses sang the song himself, according to the second, the nation repeated Moses’ song, and according to the third, Moses only opened the song, and it was continued by the people. 

What is the logic behind this argument? It revolves around the question of what is the role of a leader? To inspire loyalty, to create followers, or to craft leaders?

The question is obvious: Why the change in the blessing before the tefilin we wrap on the arm and the one we place on our head? Why does the arm tefilin get the blessing “to put on tefilin,” and the head tefilin, “for the mitzvah of tefilin?” Both tefilins are put on, and both of them are a mitzvah! So why this distinction?

Rabbi Yosef Engel (1858-1920) and Rabbi Yosef Rozen (1858-1936), the Ragatchover Gaon, answer this question in a novel fashion. Take for example a bride getting dressed for her wedding. We all understand that the ultimate objective is not for her to put on the wedding gown; the objective is for her to be wearing the gown. It is just that in order to wear the gown, she needs to put it on. Is the same true about tefilin? Is the mitzvah to have the tefilin on you (if even for a short while), or perhaps the mitzvah is simply to put them on? Which part of the two components makes you fulfill the mitzvah? Which one of the two is the ultimate objective? Is it the act or the result of the act? Is it the act of wrapping tefilin on your arm and head, or is it the result of the wrapping, namely, that you are wrapped by tefilin? Rabbi Engel and Rabbi Rosen prove that in each one of the two boxes of tefilin, the definition of the mitzvah is completely different.

Which brings us to the deeper question: Why this strange distinction mitzvah between the tefilin on the arm vs. the tefilin on the head? Why would G-d desire different things for the two tefilins we wear? Why two different objectives for the arm tefilin and head tefilin? It was the Lubavitcher Rebbe who explained the novel approach of the Ragatchover from a deeper psychological and spiritual perspective. Essentially the distinct definition of the mitzvah in each one of the tefilin boxes reflect the stunning path of Judaism toward living a serene, wholesome, happy and maximized life, in which we learn to create peace between the mind and the heart.

In the opening of this week’s portion, Vaeira, G-d tells Moses: "I, too, have heard the moans of the children of Israel, from the slavery that the Egyptians are enslaving them, and I remembered My covenant.”

The verse is raddled with questions. First, what is the meaning of the words “And I too have heard the moans?” Second, the words “from the slavery that the Egyptians are enslaving them” seem superfluous. Finally, we are puzzled by the final words of the verse, “and I remembered My covenant,” as though to say that if not for the outcry of the children of Israel He might have not remembered His covenant.

Today we will share an incredible insight by one of the greatest Kabbalists of all time, Rabbi Shimson of Astropole, murdered by the Cossacks in 1648.

Rabbi Yochanan, compiler of the Jerusalem Talmud, was one of the greatest teachers of the Talmudic era. Living an extraordinary long life, from 180 CE till 279 CE, one century after the destruction of the second Temple, his teachings are studied in depth to this very day, His life was also filled with enormous pain. His father died before his birth, and he was orphaned of his mother soon after. Tragedy would mark the rest of his years with the death of each of his ten children in his lifetime. And yet this great man never lost his equilibrium, his faith, optimism, joy and focus. He was a master, a teacher, a leader and a spiritual giant.

In one place in Talmud, Rabbi Yochanan discussed pain. And when such a man discusses pain, we ought to listen. Pain, he taught, elevated a human being to a unique plateau. People in pain live in a different realm. Their perspectives on life, death, love, meaning, truth, faith profess a depth and sensitivity of different proportions than the rest of humanity.

Yet, while Reb Yochanan compared pain to the tooth and eye of the slave, Reish Lakish compared pain to salt. The disagreement is profound. Pain transforms people forever. It takes them to places the rest of us never visit. But does this demand of them that the pain has a purpose? This was the great argument between the two Talmudic sages. In Egypt, G-d embraced one opinion. 

We often look at our generation and wonder how can Moshiach come to our generation, seemingly so lowly and distant? We fail to recognize, the incredible holiness embedded in our people as a result of all the pain our people has endured. We are ready and worthy of Moshiach.

“Now there arose a new king over Egypt,” the Torah states. It seems like a simple verse, but the Talmud and Rashi quote a debate: Rav and Shmuel differ. One explains: Actually a new king, and the other explains: He issued new decrees.

But why would they debate this issue? This class explores a common thread pervading many of the arguments between Rav and Shmuel throughout the Talmud. Do we give preference to our duties to G-d or our obligations to another human being?

This class was presented on 15 Teves, 5776, December 27, 2015, at Ohr Chaim shul in Monsey, NY.

The Midrash describes an odd detail in Greek persecution of the Jews during the time of the Chanukah story: The Jew’s were forced to write a renunciation of their faith on the ‘horn of an ox.’ What on earth did the poor ox have to do with this sorry chapter in Jewish history?

Kabbalistic and Chassidic thought offers a fascinating answer to this question by tying the story of Chanukah directly to the story of Joseph’s fierce dispute with his brothers. This dispute has lasted for thousands of years, with important implications today.

The children of Jacob were divided into two factions: on one side were ten of the twelve brothers, led by Judah; on the other, Joseph, whose differences with his brothers were the cause of much pain and strife in Jacob’s family. The conflict between Joseph and his brothers ran deeper than a multicolored coat or a favorite son’s share of his father’s affections. It was a conflict between two worldviews, between two approaches to life as a Jew in a pagan world.

We learn of the Greeks’ perversion of Joseph’s perspective on Judaism, the importance of oil this holiday, and how we set things right each Chanukah by sharing the light and the oil with the world around us.