The Gemara in Masechet Megillah (12a) tells that the students of Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai asked him why the Jews at the time of Mordechai and Ester deserved the decree of annihilation. Rabbi Shimon challenged them to suggest their own answer. They proposed that the Jews deserved to be destroyed because they participated in Ahashverosh’s feast. Rabbi Shimon noted that if this were true, then only the Jews of Shushan deserved the decree, because the king’s feast was only for the city’s inhabitants. But what about the rest of the Jews? Why were they also condemned to annihilation? The answer, Rabbi Shimon said, is that השתחוו לצלם – the people had bowed to the statue of the Babylonian emperor Nevuchadnetzar. For this misdeed, G-d decreed that they should be killed. Rabbi Shimon’s students then asked him why the decree was ultimately rescinded. If they were indeed guilty of bowing to an idol, then why were they not destroyed? Rabbi Shimon answered, הם לא עשו אלא לפנים אף הקב"ה לא עשה עמהן אלא לפנים . This means that since they did not really intend to worship the idol, even though they appeared to, Hashem similarly made it appear that they would be annihilated, whereas they were in fact spared. What is this exchange all about? How does this discussion add to our understanding of the Purim story? The answer is found in a pasuk in the Book of Vayikra (16:16) that says about Hashem, השוכן אתם בתוך טומאתם – He resides among us even in our state of impurity. The Rabbis explain that no matter how low a Jew falls, he has a spark of sanctity within him that continues to burn. We have an element of kedushah (sanctity) inside us that remains even when we sin, even if we sin repeatedly, and even if we sin severely. This spark is like the pilot light of old gas stoves. Even if the burners were all turned off, they could be easily ignited because the pilot light always remained on. Similarly, even if we fall into a state of impurity, we can be “ignited” again because of the spark of spirituality within us. There is, however, one exception to this rule, one “Kryptonite” that can extinguish that inner spark. And that is false or distorted beliefs. If people act wrongly and fall into bad habits due to their normal human weaknesses, the “pilot light” will still burn. But once they subscribe to foreign ideologies, and reject Torah beliefs, that inner spark could, G-d forbid, be extinguished. This concept lies at the heart of the discussion regarding the Purim story. If the people were guilty of excessive or inappropriate indulgence, participating in Ahashverosh’s decadent feast, this would not extinguish their spark. Rabbi Shimon’s students understood that if this were the people’s sin, they could recover and have the decree rescinded because of the spark of kedushah that remained within them. But if their sin was idolatry, bowing to a statue, then how could they be forgiven? False beliefs and ideologies destroy everything. Why were the people saved? Rabbi Shimon answered that the Jews of that time did not actually embrace idolatrous beliefs. They bowed down to the idol due to the pressure applied by the people around them – which was wrong – but deep inside, the “pilot light” continued burning strong. This explains the time-honored custom to dress up in costumes on Purim. This is not just silliness. It contains a very profound message – that we are far more than what we outwardly appear to be. True, we are far from perfect, we often make mistakes, and we do things wrong from time to time. But all this is just a “costume.” Our true selves, concealed deep within our beings, are pure and sacred. Our failures don’t define who we are. Our true essence is holiness and spirituality. We are sometimes lured by external pressures and temptations, but deep inside, we are pure and righteous. This might also be the symbolism of the hamantaschen treat that we customarily eat on Purim. The outside is plain dough, but inside there is a sweet filling – because deep inside, we are all “sweet.” Our inner greatness and purity are often hidden – but on Purim, we remind ourselves that of who we really are. Purim assures us of our potential to be great, to shine, and to excel. We must not feel discouraged by our mistakes and failures, because they do not represent our true selves. We must always remember that our core essence is pure and sacred, that we have a spark that is waiting to be ignited into a giant, raging flame of spiritual greatness.

Parashat Vayakhel begins with Moshe Rabbenu assembling Beneh Yisrael to convey to them the commands for the building of the Mishkan . But before speaking about the Mishkan , Moshe first told the people that they must observe Shabbat each week. The Rabbis explained that the mitzvah of Shabbat is connected to the construction of the Mishkan because the 39 melachot , or categories of activity that are forbidden on Shabbat, are derived from the building of the Mishkan . The 39 types of work that were needed for the building of the Mishkan are the 39 types of work which are prohibited on Shabbat. We must ask, why is this the case? Why is it specifically these categories of work – the activities needed when the Mishkan was built – that the Torah forbids us to do on Shabbat? To understand this connection between Shabbat and the Mishkan , let us briefly look at a pasuk in last week’s parashah , Parashat Ki-Tisa, regarding the mitzvah of Shabbat observance: ושמרו בני ישראל את השבת, לעשות את השבת לדורותם – “ Beneh Yisrael shall observe Shabbat, to make Shabbat for all their generations” (31:16). It is significant that the Torah here describes Shabbat observance as an action, as something that we are to do, or produce – לעשות . We would have assumed that we observe Shabbat by not doing , by refraining from certain things, by not going to work, by not driving, by not turning on our phones, by not cooking, and so on. To our surprise, the Torah commands us to “make” Shabbat – לעשות את השבת . What does this mean? The answer is that we are to make Shabbat a special day, a sacred day, a day of spiritual elevation. Someone who thinks that all he needs to do on Shabbat is refrain from the activities that are forbidden will not properly observe Shabbat. It goes without saying that abstaining from these activities is crucially important. But that is not enough. We need to “make” Shabbat by utilizing it not just for physical rest, but for kedushah , for spirituality, to grow and to deepen our connection with Hashem. We might draw an analogy to a spouse who simply checks off everything on the list of obligations to the other spouse. Practically, the spouse does everything required, but he or she does not invest time or emotional energy into the relationship, and does not work to build an emotional connection. Nobody would consider this person a good spouse. Checking all the boxes isn’t enough. The couple is expected to build something far more special and far more meaningful than just a practical arrangement whereby each side fulfills certain responsibilities. The same is true of Shabbat. Even if we ensure to avoid doing everything that is forbidden on Shabbat, we haven’t properly observed Shabbat unless we “make” Shabbat, turning it into a special day, a day of kedushah . This explains the connection between Shabbat and the Mishkan . Shabbat is to time what the Mishkan is to space. Just as the Mishkan is a special place of sanctity, distinct from everywhere else, so must Shabbat be a special time of holiness that is completely different from every other day. Shabbat cannot be just a Sunday without driving and without phones. It must be a Mishkan , a time when we reconnect with our families, with Torah, and with Hashem. Not coincidentally, the Torah begins this parashah by telling us that Moshe assembled Beneh Yisrael : ויקהל משה את כל עדת בני ישראל , Since time immemorial, Shabbat has been a time of gathering, when Jews come together for prayer, for Torah learning, and for spiritual elevation. A key component of “making” Shabbat is ויקהל , coming to shul for prayer and attending Torah classes. This is one of the important ways we make a Shabbat a sacred day. A second way is indicated by Moshe’s instruction to the people in this parashah : לא תבערו אש בכל מושבותיכם ביום השבת – “You shall not kindle a fire in all your residences on the day of Shabbat” (35:3). Of all the many different Shabbat prohibitions, lighting a fire is the only one which is stated explicitly by the Torah. The explanation might be that the Torah here is teaching us to keep away the “fire” of stress and negativity on Shabbat. Throughout the week, we “light fire,” dealing with the stresses and struggles of life, and exposing ourselves to all the negativity in the media and social media. On Shabbat, all this needs to be kept out. If Shabbat is going to be our “ Mishkan ,” an experience of kedushah , we need to block out all the noise, all the tension, the controversies, the arguments, and the struggles. Shabbat must be a day of peace, joy and serenity, free of the “fire” of negativity. Let us make a commitment to not just keep Shabbat, but to “build” Shabbat like our ancestors built a Mishkan , making it a special day that uplifts us and rejuvenates both our bodies and our souls.

The Gemara (Gittin 56b) tells a mysterious story about Titus, the Roman general who destroyed the Bet Ha’mikdash . Titus was exceptionally arrogant, and boasted that he was far more powerful than the G-d of Israel. Hashem punished Titus by having a tiny mosquito fly into his nostril and up into his head. There it continually pecked, causing Titus extreme pain. Hashem showed Titus that he could be defeated by the tiniest of creatures. The Gemara concludes the story by telling that after Titus’ passing, his head was opened, and it was discovered that the minuscule mosquito had grown to the size of a very large bird. Much of this story, of course, is a mystery. But on the symbolic level, its message, I think, is very clear. The Gemara here is describing how very small, trivial things become very big things in our head. Something somebody said or did bothers us, and we turn it into a much bigger deal than it is. We have some small problem to deal with, and it becomes an enormous “bird” in our heads, causing us a great deal of anxiety, “pecking” away incessantly, preventing us from functioning normally. Often, this “bird” is something that another person has that we don’t. We see that person’s house, car, clothes or kids, and we are overcome by jealousy or resentment. We see somebody who excels or achieves in a way that we don’t, and it eats us up. It becomes a gigantic “bird” in our minds, incessantly “pecking” at our brains, not allowing us a moment of joy and contentment. The opening pesukim of Parashat Ki-Tisa perhaps teach us how to handle these feelings, how to get rid of this “bird” once and for all. These pesukim introduce the mitzvah of מחצית השקל – the half-shekel tax that every member of the nation would donate each year during the times of the Bet Ha’mikdash . The Torah commands that everybody must give this precise amount – half a shekel. Nobody was allowed to give more or less. Many have asked the question of why the Torah required specifically this amount – a half-shekel. Why shouldn’t the people be obligated, or at least allowed, to donate a full shekel? The answer might be that the Torah wants us all to acknowledge that we have only a “half,” that we are not “whole,” that we all have things which we think we need, things that we lack, things that bother us, things that make us upset. There is not a single person who is “whole,” whose life is perfect, who has everything he needs and wants. If we ever find ourselves feeling jealous or resentful of another person who has something that we don’t, we need to know a little secret: that person, and all people, are lacking something. They, too, have problems. They, too, are struggling and having a hard time with something. We are all just half a shekel. If we want to get rid of the “bird” in our heads, we need to recognize this reality of the מחצית השקל , that everyone has only “half,” only some of what they want. Nobody is whole. Hashem gives us all a מחצית , some of what we want, but not all, and we are to feel content with what He has given us. This perspective will prevent the “mosquito” from turning into a “bird.” It will help us to stop obsessing over the small problems and issues that we deal with, as we realize that Hashem gives everybody some – but not all – of what we want, because He, and only He, knows what we need to achieve and maximize our potential. As just one example, I will share a story that is, basically, true, with some of the details changed. Two sisters had a successful business, working together baking and selling cupcakes. Everything we going well until one sister decided to break away and start her own business, taking all the customers with her. The other sister was enraged. She was so angry that she nearly lost her mind, and could not function. I tried explaining to her that the real problem was not that her sister took away her customers, but rather that she was obsessing over it, that she was allowing this to become a “bird,” that this was causing her debilitating anger and resentment. If she could just get this “bird” out of her head, then she could focus on rebuilding her business. And the way to do this is through emunah , by realizing that Hashem has given her the מחצית that she needs. This has nothing to do with her sister. If her sister did something wrong, then this is Hashem’s business. Her job is to move on. Let us prevent the mosquito from becoming a bird. Let’s stop obsessing, worrying, resenting and feeling jealous, and always feel happy and content with the מחצית that Hashem has graciously given us, trusting that this is exactly what we need.

In Parashat Tetzaveh, the Torah elaborates at great length on the topic of the bigdeh kehuna , the special garments worn by the kohanim . Every kohen was to wear four special garments, and the kohen gadol wore an additional four garments. The Torah takes these garments very, very seriously. If a kohen performs the service in the Bet Ha’mikdash and is missing even one of the required garments, he is חייב מיתה בידי שמיים – liable to death at the hands of G-d. The Sefer Ha’hinuch explains the reason why the Torah was so strict in demanding that kohanim wear these special garments. Wearing this clothing, the Sefer Ha’hinuch writes, reminds the kohen of his unique status, of his distinguished position as a servant of Hashem in the Bet Ha’mikdash . There will be days when a kohen is not so focused, when he feels unmotivated, when he is simply “not in the mood” to do the work that he is required to do. When he puts on these special garments, this has an effect on his mentality. It makes him mindful of his importance, of the significance of his role, of the great responsibility that he bears. Underlying these comments of the Sefer Ha’hinuch is a general principle that our mindset is impacted by our actions. If we’re not in the mood to do something, the best solution is to get started, to take the first steps. If we feel incapable of change, if we feel stuck, the best advice is to take action, to make one small change. Even if we don’t feel connected to Hashem, and we feel unmotivated to perform the mitzvot , we should try to do something, to say one prayer, to attend one class, to do one mitzvah , and this will have the effect of slowly changing our mood and attitude. The concept of the bigdeh kehuna is directly relevant to each and every one of us in another way, as well. The Gemara teaches that Rabbi Yohanan would refer to his clothing as מכבדותי – “that which gives me dignity.” A person’s clothing gives him his respect and dignity. When we wear an old, worn-out t-shirt and walk around in our slippers, we do not take ourselves as seriously as we do when we’re dressed in fine, formal attire. Like the kohanim , we all have a job to do. We all have to serve Hashem, each person in his or her own capacity. And like the kohanim , we need to dress in a manner that suits our job. If we dress respectably, we are far more likely to take ourselves seriously, be mindful of our importance and worth, and do our job to the very best of our ability. Indeed, studies have shown that employers place a great deal of importance on a job candidate’s dress and appearance during the hiring process. A person who dresses in a respectable manner is more likely to do his or her job well. This message is important also for another reason. Many people feel that they do not receive respect from the people around them – from their spouse, from their children, from their peers, etc. The most important thing we can do to earn respect is to carry ourselves with respect and dignity. Children are unlikely to respect a parent who slouches, who walks around the house in old, worn-out clothes, and who does not speak in a dignified manner. When we carry ourselves with dignity, this will enhance our own sense of self-worth, and will, in turn, invite the respect of other people. Instead of complaining that we do not receive respect, we need simply to begin respecting ourselves – and this begins with dressing, speaking and acting in a dignified manner. If we conduct ourselves respectfully, we will respect ourselves – and we will then be respected by other people, too.

Parashat Teruma tells about the Mishkan , the portable sanctuary which Beneh Yisrael built at Mount Sinai, and which they took with them as they traveled through the wilderness and crossed into the Land of Israel. It was eventually replaced by the Bet Ha’mikdash in Jerusalem. The main area of the Mishkan featured three furnishings: 1) a menorah , which was kindled each evening; 2) a mizbe’ah (altar); 3) a shulhan (table), on which bread was displayed. The commentators explained that these three pieces of furniture in the Mishkan allude to the three ways in we are to turn our homes into “sanctuaries,” into places of holiness, worthy of Hashem’s presence. First, we need to have a menorah – the “light” of Torah. The pasuk in Mishleh (6:23) states, כי נר מצוה ותורה אור – Torah is likened to light, as it illuminates our path, showing us how to live our lives. The menorah is the symbol of Torah learning, and its presence in the Mishkan teaches us of the need to make our homes places of Torah study. Secondly, our homes need to feature a mizbe’ah – representing the service of Hashem. The offerings brought in the Bet Ha’mikdash are substituted today with prayer. This, too, must be a regular fixture in our home. If we want Hashem’s presence in our homes, we need to bring Him there by regularly calling to Him in prayer. The final piece of furniture in the main area of the Mishkan was the shulhan . The table, where we have our meals, represents hesed (kindness), using our “bread” – our livelihood – for dispensing kindness. This is the third thing we need to do so our homes become a sanctuary – make them places of hesed , where we give to other people. As the famous Mishna in the beginning of Pirkeh Avot teaches: על שלשה דברים העולם עומד – על התורה ועל העבודה ועל גמילות חסדים . The world rests on the three “pillars” of Torah learning, service of Hashem, and kindness. Correspondingly, we make our homes into places of kedushah (sanctity), worthy of Hashem’s presence, by using them for these three “pillars.” Many of us probably think that we already do this. They proudly display Torah books on the shelves, they make time for Torah classes, they pray, and they give charity. If we do this, does this mean that we’ve succeeded into making our homes into a Mishkan ? The story is told of a school which told its students before parent-teacher meetings to write on a piece of paper the most important rule in their homes. The school wanted that when the parents arrived for meetings that night, they would see what their children feel is the most important rule enforced in the home. The parents arrived, expecting to find notes such as, “Say a berachah before eating”; “No lashon ha’ra ”; “Say Shema before bedtime.” Instead, they found notes such as, “Don’t walk with shoes on the carpet”; “No hands on the shades.” These parents were shown that while they certainly paid lip service to Torah and mitzvot , the message they were giving their kids was that the house’s physical appearance was the most important thing. When parents speak to their children about their future, how much time do they spend talking about college and employment, and how much time do they spend talking about religious observance, about allocating significant time for Torah, and for praying with a minyan ? How much time is spent at the table talking about celebrities, such as sports players and politicians, and how much time is spent talking about great Rabbis and what we can learn from them? How much time is spent talking about sports and politics, and how much time is spent sharing divreh Torah ? There was one more piece of “furniture” in the Mishkan – the sacred aron (ark), which contained the tablets which Moshe Rabbenu brought from Mount Sinai, as well as the first Torah scroll. The aron was kept behind a curtain, and nobody ever went inside that section of the Mishkan , except the kohen gadol on Yom Kippur. The aron represents the essence of what the Mishkan was about. It wasn’t seen, but everyone was aware that this is what was kept inside the Mishkan , and it defined the building’s core identity. If our children would be asked, “What is the aron of your home? What is its core essence, its identity?” – what would they answer? In order to turn our homes into a Bet Ha’mikdash , we need to strive to ensure that “deep inside,” the thing that our homes are all about, is Hashem. Torah, prayer and hesed must not merely be things that we do from time to time, activities that we fit into our schedule. We need to make it clear to our children – and to ourselves – that these are the essence of the home, the “pillars,” the foundations upon which we build our homes. If we can do this, then we will turn our homes into a Mishkan , worthy of Hashem’s presence and Hashem’s endless blessings.

Many years ago, a father brought his son before his bar-mitzvah to meet a certain Hassidic Rebbe. The Rebbe, to the boy’s astonishment, turned to him and asked if he was a sports fan. “Sure,” the boy replied. “I follow baseball.” “What team do you root for?” the Rebbe asked. “The Brooklyn Dodgers.” The Rebbe then asked the boy if he ever attended a Dodgers game. “Of course,” the boy said. “Actually, my father took me to a game just a few days ago.” The Rebbe asked what happened in the game. “It was a terrible game,” the boy said. “By the seventh inning, the Dodgers were losing 10-0, so we just left. There was no reason to stay.” “I see,” the Rebbe said. “But what about the Dodgers players? Did they also leave?” The boy giggled. “Of course not. They need to stay and play the whole game. I’m just a fan, so I can leave whenever I want.” The Rebbe smiled. “You’re becoming a bar-mitzvah, which is very exciting,” the Rebbe explained. “Once you become a bar-mitzvah, you’re a member of the team. And you know what that means? It means that you can’t leave during a ‘bad game.’ “Every baseball player knows that not every game is going to be good. It’s not always going to go well. But he has to show up and play his hardest even when his team is losing 10-0 in the seventh inning. And the same is true about being a member of Am Yisrael ’s ‘team.’ We have to stick with it even it’s hard. We can’t just leave and give up when things get difficult or complicated.” Parashat Mishpatim continues the description of the events of Matan Torah , which began in last week’s parashah , Parashat Yitro. Surprisingly, the Torah interrupts the story of Matan Torah with a series of detailed and intricate laws, dealing mainly with situations of civil disputes. We find in this parashah laws regarding theft, damages, accidental murder, fights that break out between people, people who physically assault their parents, items that one borrowed or was asked to watch and which were lost, and helping one’s enemy who is struggling with his cargo. Why does this series of laws interrupt the exciting, dramatic narrative of Matan Torah ? The Rabbis teach that as Beneh Yisrael stood at Mount Sinai to receive the Torah, they were in a state of perfection. They had been fully cleansed of all spiritual impurities. Even physically, they were cured of all illnesses, and healed of all injuries. They were also completely unified, with no fighting or tension between the people. Hashem wanted to teach them that the Torah they were now receiving is binding not only in a state of perfection, but also in a state of imperfection. The Torah governs our lives even when our lives get very complicated and very difficult. It guides us even in unfortunate situations of theft, even when people are in a fight, when property gets damaged, when children rise up against their parents, when things go terribly wrong. I don’t know anyone who isn’t fighting a battle of some kind. Some deal with a medical issue. Some struggle with a child or several children. Some have difficulties in their marriage. Some can’t pay their bills. Some are in a fight with family members, neighbors, business associates, or others. And some are dealing with several of these kinds of problems simultaneously. It is for this reason that the story of Matan Torah is interrupted by the mishpatim , the section of civil laws. The complications of life are an integral part of Torah life. The Torah was not given only for a perfect reality. It was given to empower us to overcome even very imperfect realities, to grow and achieve even when we struggle and face difficult challenges. We must “play” every “inning” and every “game,” even the “games” that aren’t going well. We must never break down or despair when we face challenges. We must firmly believe that Hashem has sent us these challenges for us to overcome, and that He has given us the strength to overcome them. We are privileged to “play” on the greatest “team” in the world, and this requires us to keep going even on bad days. Let us respond to all our struggles with faith and conviction, realizing that Hashem has given us what it takes to meet every challenge that He sends our way.

ממלכת כוהנים וגוי קדוש Parashat Yitro tells the story of מעמד הר סיני – Hashem’s revelation to Beneh Yisrael , when He presented them the Torah. Prior to this event, Hashem delivered a message to the people through Moshe Rabbenu, explaining to them the purpose of מעמד הר סיני , and, in essence, their mission as a nation. He declared that if they observe the commands of the Torah, then והייתם לי סגולה מכל העמים – “You shall be a treasure for Me, from among all the other nations” (Shemot 19:5). He then added: ואתם תהיו לי ממלכת כוהנים וגוי קדוש – “And you shall be for Me a kingdom of kohanim , and a sacred nation” (19:6). We need to understand the precise meaning of these three pronouncements – that we will be a סגולה , a ממלכת כוהנים , and a גוי קדוש . The Ketav Sofer explains that the first is a promise, and the next two are our mission. Hashem promises us that once we accept the Torah, if we make a sincere commitment to follow its laws, then forever more, we are a סגולה , His “treasure.” Even if we at times fail to comply, we are nevertheless His beloved nation. No matter how far we fall, we are guaranteed to be His סגולה , and thus capable of performing teshuvah and coming close to Him again. The next pasuk informs us of our two obligations as His nation. The first is to be a ממלכת כוהנים – to live elevated lives, lives of prayer, Torah study, Shabbat observance, and so on, dressing and conducting ourselves in a “regal” manner. The second obligation is to be a גוי קדוש – a “sacred nation.” The term קדושה is commonly associated with פרישות – “separation,” withdrawing from excessive indulgence, and avoiding inappropriate behaviors. Being a גוי קדוש means having the discipline to refrain from improper conduct, and the courage to act differently than people from other nations. I would posit that in our time, living as a ממלכת כוהנים is easier than it ever was, whereas living as a גוי קדוש is more difficult than it ever was. It is easier than ever to learn Torah, to become close to Rabbis, to observe Shabbat, to dress religiously, to pray in shul, to watch videos about emunah , and to generally “be religious.” But it is more difficult than ever to be קדוש , to be “separate,” to refrain from inappropriate behavior, to have the discipline and self-restraint to avoid doing things that we aren’t supposed to do. The Gemara in Masechet Nedarim (81a) makes a very famous – and startling – comment about the destruction of the Bet Ha’mikdash . It states that the reason why Hashem brought the hurban (destruction) is because the people did not recite the berachah before learning Torah. They made time to learn Torah – but they did not recite the berachah before learning, and for this reason, Yerushalayim was destroyed. Many Rabbis addressed the question of how this could be. Why would this be the reason for the destruction and the exile? Maybe we can offer an answer by looking at the text of the berachah recited before learning Torah. In this berachah we thank Hashem אשר בחר בנו מכל העמים ונתן לנו את תורתו – “who chose us from among all the nations, and gave us the Torah.” This berachah speaks about our being different, our having been selected from among all the other nations. Learning Torah is, of course, wonderful, and important. But it isn’t enough just to learn. Learning is part of the obligation of ממלכת כוהנים , but we cannot neglect the requirement to be a גוי קדוש , which means remembering that בחר בנו מכל העמים – that we must be different. We cannot learn the Torah which Hashem chose us to receive, study and observe, while still doing the same things that the nations around us do. We cannot learn Torah and talk the way other people talk, eat the way other people eat, watch what other people watch, and waste our time the way other people waste theirs. In order to live religious lives, we need to separate ourselves. We cannot continue doing what the people around us do. Living a Torah life, and growing in religion, is sometimes difficult. It requires making difficult decisions, and pulling away from things that we want. But I guarantee you that it is so worth it. There is no greater feeling than living as a ממלכת כוהנים וגוי קדוש , living a life of holiness, knowing that we are connected to Hashem. Let us strive to live a complete Torah life, fully committed to all its laws, values and guidelines, and we will then experience the unparalleled joy and satisfaction of kedushah and spiritual greatness.

In the beginning of Parashat Beshalah, the Torah informs us that as Beneh Yisrael left Egypt, Moshe ensured to bring with him the bones of Yosef, who had died many years earlier: ויקח משה את עצמות יוסף עמו (13:19). Moshe did this in fulfillment of Yosef’s command to his brothers before he died, that his remains should be brought out of Egypt and be buried in the Land of Israel. Why is it important for us to know? Why, amid all the drama of Yetziat Mitzrayim , did the Torah find it necessary to inform us that Yosef’s remains accompanied them as they went out into the desert? We can answer this question by taking a quick look at Yosef’s extraordinary life. When he was young, he enjoyed a wonderful life, as his father’s most beloved child, and receiving special gifts. But, on the other hand, his brothers despised him. His dreams of leadership could not be realized. It was only many years later, after being thrown into a pit, sold as a slave, and then imprisoned on false charges, that Yosef emerged as a leader. As long as his life was easy, he could not achieve greatness. It was by facing and overcoming adversity that Yosef actualized his full potential and fulfilled his mission. The opening pasuk of Parashat Beshalah tells us that Hashem specifically chose NOT to lead Beneh Yisrael along the direct route to Eretz Yisrael , and instead brought them through the desert. This was going to be a long, difficult, complicated process. But this was how they would become a great nation and fulfill the mission for which they were brought out of Egypt. This might be why this opening pasuk begins, ויהי בשלח פרעה את העם – referring to Beneh Yisrael as העם , “the nation,” and not as בני ישראל . It is only at the end of the next pasuk , after the Torah tells that Hashem decided to bring the people through the desert, that they are referred to by name – וחמושים עלו בני ישראל מארץ מצרים . Just leaving Egypt did not turn the people into בני ישראל , into a special nation with a special connection to Hashem. This happened only over the course of their difficult journey through the desert. It is by overcoming challenges that we attain greatness. This is the significance of Yosef’s bones accompanying Beneh Yisrael through the desert. They were reminded of Yosef’s story; they were shown that greatness is attained by enduring the “desert,” by facing challenging circumstances and overcoming them. The Mishnah in Pirkeh Avot (6:4) teaches: כך היא דרכה של תורה: פת במלח תאכל ומים במשורה תשתה ועל הארץ תישן וחיי צער תחיה ובתורה אתה עמל. This is the path of Torah: You eat bread with salt, you drink water in small quantities, you sleep on the floor, and you live uncomfortable lives – and you labor in Torah. This should not be understood to mean that living a Torah life requires suffering poverty. It does mean, however, that challenges and discomfort are part of the process of growth. If we always have everything we want, if life is always easy, simple and straightforward, then we are not going to grow and achieve greatness. Let us, then, embrace life’s challenges, rather than resent them. When we find ourselves in a “desert,” enduring some difficult circumstance, let us understand that this is an opportunity for us to grow, to realize our full potential, and become the great people that we are expected to become.

Immediately after Beneh Yisrael left Egypt, Hashem presented a number of commands that are intended to commemorate and memorialize this miraculous event. One of these mitzvot is pidyon ha’ben – the “redemption” of the firstborn. Hashem declared that on the night of Yetziat Mitzrayim , when He brought a plague that killed the firstborns of Egypt, but spared the firstborn of Beneh Yisrael , all bechorim (male firstborns) of Beneh Yisrael became holy. Forever more, every male firstborn in the Jewish Nation has a special status of kedushah (holiness), because the bechorim were miraculously saved from the plague in Egypt. In order for the boy to be able to live a normal life, he must be “redeemed.” This is done by the father giving a sum of money to a kohen , a mitzvah that applies even today. Interestingly, it is customary to make a festive celebration at the time of a pidyon ha’ben . The father does not just give money to a kohen – but he invites friends and family for a large meal, similar to the celebration of a berit milah . We might ask, why is this something celebrate? This infant was just “downgraded” from being consecrated for the service of Hashem, to the status of an ordinary person, who can live in an ordinary way. Why is this a cause for celebration? Shouldn’t this be a somber moment, as the child’s level of kedushah is lowered? One of the commentators explains that Judaism does not celebrate perfect, pristine holiness as an ideal. Some other religions believe that in order to live a spiritual life, one must disconnect entirely from physical life. We, however, believe in striving for kedushah from within our physical reality. This concept is expressed in the korbanot that were brought in the Bet Ha’mikdash . Non-Jews were allowed to offer sacrifices in the Bet Ha’mikdash – but only the korban olah , the sacrifice that was burned entirely on the mizbe’ah (altar). This is because the non-Jewish conception of kedushah is withdrawing from physical life. We, however, offer several different kinds of korbanot , including sacrifices that were eaten, some only by the kohanim , and some also by the person who brought the sacrifice. Because for us, eating is not contradictory to holiness. The Torah teaches us not to abstain from worldly enjoyment, but to uplift it, to elevate the mundane parts of life. This finds expression also in the observance of Shabbat. The Gemara (Betzah 16a) teaches that on Shabbat, we receive a נשמה יתירה – an “extra soul.” (This is why we smell besamim when Shabbat ends – to ease the distress of losing this “extra soul.”) Rashi explains, surprisingly enough, that this “extra soul” gives us an especially hearty appetite on Shabbat. We enjoy eating more on Shabbat because of our heightened level of kedushah . The Torah sees no contradiction whatsoever between spirituality and physical enjoyment. Kedushah means not that we abstain from physical enjoyment, but rather that we elevate it, by enjoying the world in a dignified, sanctified way. This is why we celebrate a pidyon ha’ben . Now that the child is “lowered” from his lofty status of kedushah , he is able to do the work that we Jews are supposed to do – living a physical life in a spiritual way, elevating the mundane aspects of our lives. This means that we cannot separate between our religious and mundane lives. Spirituality does not end when we leave shul, or when we go to work, or when we go on vacation. To the contrary, spirituality means that we go about our mundane lives in a holy way. It means ensuring to make time for tefilah and for Torah learning even when we’re away with the family on vacation, ensuring to recite all the berachot when we eat, and ensuring to conduct our business affairs honestly and respectably, as the Torah demands. Religion is not reserved for the shul, or for the yeshiva. It must inform every aspect of our lives, and elevate and enhance everything that we do throughout the day, each day of our lives.

Parashat Vaera begins in the middle of a difficult exchange between Hashem and Moshe Rabbenu. To briefly review, Hashem had sent Moshe to come before Pharaoh and demand that he release Beneh Yisrael . Moshe did as he was told, and Pharaoh not only refused, but increased the people’s workload, significantly intensifying their suffering. Moshe then turned to Hashem and asked, “Why have You done evil to Your people? Why did you send me?” Hashem reassured Moshe that He would force Pharaoh to let Beneh Yisrael go. In the beginning of Parashat Vaera, Hashem continues His response to Moshe, telling him, “I am Hashem; and I appeared to Avraham, Yitzhak and Yaakov with [the Name] ‘Kel Sha-ddai’.” The commentators explain this to mean that Hashem made promises to the Avot (patriarchs), but did not show them the fulfillment of these promises. He promised to produce from them a large nation that would inhabit the Land of Israel, but they never lived to see these promises realized. Nevertheless, they did not complain or protest, as Moshe did when G-d’s promise to free Beneh Yisrael was not immediately fulfilled. It goes without saying that Moshe had perfect faith in Hashem. At no point did he doubt that Hashem would fulfill His promise to free Beneh Yisrael . Rather, as Seforno (5:22) explains, Moshe was asking why he was part of this. “Why did you send me?” He of course realized that Hashem had his reasons for making Beneh Yisrael ’s conditions worse. But he felt like a failure. He did what Hashem sent him to do, and he failed. His efforts had the precise opposite effect of what he was supposed to achieve. This is what troubled him – that his work and efforts were futile. Hashem responded by pointing to the example of Avraham, Yitzhak and Yaakov. They never felt like failures, even though they never saw the realization of their mission. Each time they heard Hashem’s promise of a great nation, they encountered hardships. Avraham had no children, and had to leave the land because of a famine. Yitzhak had to struggle with the Pelishtim who chased him away and then stole his wells. Yaakov received Hashem’s promise, and then had to deal with Lavan and Esav. Later, his daughter was abducted, and his sons sold their brother as a slave. But the Avot did not feel like failures. They recognized their greatness and importance, and the great value of their efforts, and trusted that Hashem will eventually fulfill His promises. As mentioned, Parashat Vaera begins with Hashem telling Moshe, “I appeared to Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov…” Rashi makes a very unusual remark on this verse. Commenting on the word “Vaera” (“I appeared”), Rashi writes, “El Ha’avot” – “to the patriarchs.” For some reason, Rashi found it necessary to clarify that Avraham, Yitzhak and Yaakov were the “Avot,” our nation’s founding fathers. Aren’t we already well aware of this? Do we not already know who Avraham, Yitzhak and Yaakov were? The answer might be that Rashi here is teaching us what a parent’s role is, what makes someone into an “Av,” a father or mother. A parent’s primary job is to model for his or her children this quality mentioned here in this pasuk – the quality of resilience in times of failure and disappointment. Avraham, Yitzhak and Yaakov are our “fathers” because they showed us how to remain confident, strong and determined even when things do not work out, even when the chips are down, even when our efforts do not succeed. They continued believing in Hashem, and – no less importantly – believing in themselves ,even in times of crisis and hardship. At no point did they see themselves as failures, as hopeless, or as unimportant, even when their efforts did not yield the results they wanted. And this is what makes them our “fathers.” Our generation suffers from a lack of self-confidence and self-esteem. Youngsters today see other people’s success and achievements and feel unimportant and insignificant, like failures. The most critical job that parents have, especially in our generation, is to instill within their children a keen sense of their importance and worth, to assure them of their potential for greatness, to make them realize how much they can accomplish, and how much they matter. Children should never see themselves as failures, regardless of their grades, social standing, or any other factor. They need to know that they have the potential for greatness, that they have so much to contribute to the world, even if they have met with disappointment and failure. If we can do this, then we are doing our job as parents, following the example of our saintly Avot.