Parsha in 2

The True Meaning of Kindness

The Rambam teaches that three defining characteristics of the Jewish people are Baishanim, Rachmanim, and Gomlei Chasadim — humility, compassion, and acts of kindness. These qualities are deeply interconnected, beginning with sensitivity and humility in the soul, awakening compassion in the heart, and ultimately leading to genuine acts of kindness. But even sincere compassion can sometimes lead to a subtle feeling of superiority.

Why does the Gemara place compassion before humility? And what can we learn from a remarkable encounter between the Previous Rebbe and a doctor aboard a ship in 1929? Discover how true kindness is not simply about helping others, but about the humility and sensitivity with which we give — transforming an ordinary act of kindness into something truly meaningful.

לקו״ש ל-א

In Parshas Lech Lecha, Avraham Avinu builds three Mizbechos, each representing a different way of connecting to Hashem: gratitude for His blessings, seeking forgiveness through Teshuva, and serving Hashem out of pure love, without any personal benefit. These three forms of Avodah were later reflected in the Mizbeach of the Beis Hamikdash.

The teaching of Maasei Avos Siman LaBanim reveals a powerful lesson: our Avos didn’t merely set an example; they paved the way and gave us the strength to follow in their footsteps. Whether through Torah and Mitzvos, Teshuva, or complete Mesiras Nefesh, every Jew has the ability to grow spiritually and deepen their connection with Hashem.

לקו״ש ל-א

The seventh of Cheshvan marks the transition from the spiritual heights of Tishrei to the challenges of everyday life. After experiencing Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Sukkos, and Simchas Torah, we return to our homes, businesses, and responsibilities. Seemingly, this is a spiritual descent. Yet Chazal teach us Maalin Bakodesh — we must always ascend in holiness. How can ordinary life represent an even greater spiritual ascent?

The answer lies in the deeper purpose of our existence. Just as Hashem commanded Noach, “Tzei min hateivah” — leave the ark — we too must leave our spiritual comfort zones and engage the physical world. The ultimate purpose isn’t simply to experience holiness, but to bring that holiness into our everyday lives, transforming the world itself into a dwelling place for Hashem.

לקו״ש כה-ו חשון

Why can’t you fulfill the mitzvah with a borrowed lulav, while a borrowed sukkah is perfectly acceptable? The halachic difference reveals something much deeper about the meaning of Sukkos and the unique unity created by the sukkah.

The four species also represent unity, but each retains its individual identity. Sukkah takes us deeper: it surrounds us, strips away our differences, and reveals the core that all Jews share. After Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, Sukkos gives us eight days to realign ourselves with who we really are — one Am Yisrael.

לקו״ש י״ט-א

During the Aseres Yemei Teshuvah, Hashem is uniquely accessible to every Jew. The pasuk says, “Dirshu Hashem b’himatzeh, kera’uhu bihyoso karov” — seek Hashem when He can be found; call out to Him when He is close. These are not repetitive phrases, but two dimensions of our relationship with Hashem. Even when we feel unprepared or undeserving, Hashem is b’himatzeh — available to us like something already found. Like a father who never abandons his child, Hashem remains close regardless of where we may be holding.

But Hashem wants us to go further: “Kera’uhu bihyoso karov” — call out to Him and experience that closeness. This parallels the heaven and earth of Parshas Ha’azinu: Torah represents a connection to Hashem that we can understand and feel, while mitzvos connect us through action and submission to His will, even when we don’t feel the same inspiration. During these special days, Hashem is both found and close — giving each of us an extraordinary opportunity to seek Him, call out to Him, and deepen our connection.

לקו״ש לד עשרת ימי תשובה

What makes tefillah different from a bracha? A bracha draws down something that already exists Above, like water that is already in a pool and simply needs to be brought somewhere else. Tefillah can accomplish something far greater — “Yehi ratzon,” creating a new Divine will and changing a reality that seemed impossible. This is why Chana’s prayer teaches us the true meaning and power of tefillah.

Chana was barren, yet she prayed not only for a child, but for a child who would be a tzaddik — even though “Hakol bidei Shamayim chutz miyiras Shamayim.” Her tefillah broke through the barriers of nature and even the normal limitations of Torah. On Rosh Hashanah, when we ask Hashem to renew His Kingship and the world for another year, Chana teaches us how: through kavana, deep devotion, and bitul — opening ourselves completely to Hashem and bringing forth a new ratzon from Above.

לקו״ש כט

The Torah concludes with Hakhel and the mitzvah of writing a Sefer Torah because as the Jewish people prepared to leave the Midbar and continue without Moshe Rabbeinu, Hashem gave them the secret to keeping Yiddishkeit fresh and alive: constantly relive Matan Torah. Hakhel recreates the collective experience of standing together as one nation, while writing a Sefer Torah represents our personal experience of receiving the Torah directly from Hashem.

That message is just as powerful today. We can create our own “Hakhel” by bringing others together for Torah and inspiration, while surrounding ourselves with seforim and making Torah personally ours. The goal is not merely to observe Torah and mitzvos, but to experience them with freshness and excitement — as though Hashem is giving us the Torah today.

לקו״ש לד-א

Being kind and compassionate is not enough. The fascinating mitzvah of “V’halachta bidrachav” — walk in His ways teaches us that even our emotions need a higher foundation. We should be kind because Hashem is kind, compassionate because Hashem is compassionate, and caring because Hashem is caring. Human emotions, even with the best intentions, can sometimes become unbalanced and lead us in the wrong direction. Hashem’s ways provide the healthy anchor that keeps our kindness true, balanced, and genuine.

As we stand in Elul, reflecting on the past and preparing for the future, this mitzvah carries an especially empowering message. Regardless of how we view ourselves or our past, Hashem tells us that we have the capacity to walk in His ways—and He gives us the strength to do so. With that confidence, we can enter the new year with passion, happiness, and a renewed commitment to emulate Hashem, whose ways are always just, right, and true.

לקו״ש לד-ב

Just as the Torah allows a worker harvesting a field or orchard to eat from its produce while he works, we too are workers in Hashem’s world. Our ultimate reward is in Olam Haba, but while we are here doing Hashem’s work, He provides us with what we need to serve Him. There is the “grain-field Jew,” who struggles but faithfully does what is required; the “orchard Jew,” who finds pleasure and excitement in Torah and mitzvos and strives to do more; and the po’el, the worker whose entire existence and purpose is to serve Hashem.

Hashem responds middah k’neged middah: the more completely we devote ourselves to His service, the more completely He removes the obstacles and provides what we need—with abundance, peace, and tranquility. Yet Rashi teaches something beautiful: even the Jew struggling simply to fulfill his obligations is still called a po’el. Because deep down, every Jew’s true desire and entire essence is to serve Hashem. May Hashem remove every distraction and give us everything we need to serve Him completely, culminating in the peaceful and unlimited Divine service of the coming of Moshiach.

לקו״ש לד-ב

There is a fascinating law regarding capital punishment: although normally a majority of the Sanhedrin can convict, if every single judge finds the person guilty, the punishment is not carried out. On a deeper level, this reflects a fundamental truth. The Rambam teaches that every Jew, no matter his situation, truly wants to follow Hashem and come close to Him; it is only the Yetzer Hara that can conceal that desire. Therefore, if not even one judge can find a zechus, the Torah tells us that something is missing—because within every Jew there is always a point of goodness.

This gives us a powerful lesson in how to look at another Jew. No matter what we see on the outside, we must believe that there is a zechus and an inner desire for Hashem within him. Especially today, when so many Jews were never exposed to the beauty of Yiddishkeit, our job is to look deeper, recognize and speak about the good within them, and help bring it to the surface—helping every Jew reveal what he truly wants: to come closer to Hashem and closer to Yiddishkeit.

לקו״ש כט-ג