Parsha in 2

Matan Torah was not only the moment Hashem gave us the Torah with thunder, lightning, and overwhelming revelation — it was also the moment the Jewish people received it. There is Nesinas HaTorah, Hashem giving the Torah, but there is also Kabbalas HaTorah, our acceptance, connection, and joy in making Torah part of our lives. Torah was never meant to remain distant or forced upon us; it must become something we embrace willingly and personally, feeling that it truly belongs to us.

That is why Shavuos uniquely includes physical joy and celebration. Everyone agrees that Shavuos must also be “lachem” — an experience of personal participation and happiness — because receiving the Torah with simcha is part of the essence of the day. Even the korbanos reflected this idea, emphasizing the participation and connection of the Jewish people themselves. The message of Shavuos is not only that Hashem gave the Torah, but that every Jew must receive it again with joy, ownership, excitement, and deep inner connection.

לקו״ש כח

Are we shaped by who we truly are, or by the people surrounding us? The Torah’s description of the Jewish people encamping around the Mishkan teaches the enormous influence a neighbor and environment can have on a person. Chazal explain “oy l’rasha, oy l’scheino” — woe to the wicked and woe to his neighbor. Some opinions understand this influence as external, where people get swept into the atmosphere and actions around them, as happened with Shevet Reuven near Korach. Others explain that an environment can affect a person much more deeply, even transforming someone internally, while another view says it simply reveals qualities already hidden within.

Yet the Torah emphasizes that the influence of goodness is far stronger than the influence of negativity. “Tov l’tzadik, tov l’scheino” — good for the righteous and good for his neighbor. Because Yehudah, Yissachar, and Zevulun camped near Moshe and Aharon, they absorbed Torah, greatness, and holiness. Their closeness to Kedusha awakened the Tzadik already hidden inside them. This פרשה is always read before Shavuot, teaching that the greatest vessel for Torah is אהבת ישראל and strong connection among כלל ישראל. The people around us shape us profoundly, which is why a person must strive to surround himself with holy, uplifting people and especially a Tzadik, who can awaken the deepest goodness within the soul.

לקו״ש לג-ב

Not every question comes from rebellion or doubt. Sometimes, a person asks because he genuinely wants to understand and connect. After the Torah discusses Shemitah, Yovel, honesty in business, and blessings of success and security, it then asks: “What will we eat in the seventh year?” This shows the question is not coming from someone lacking אמונה, because if it were, he would challenge the mitzvah immediately. Rather, it comes from someone who believes fully in Hashem’s promise, yet wants to understand how such a blessing could exist when, logically, the land should be at its weakest point after six years of work. The fact that the sixth year produces enough for three years is not just above nature — it completely reverses nature itself.

On a deeper level, the six years represent the six thousand years of creation, while the seventh represents the era of גאולה. As the generations continue, the world appears darker and spiritually weaker, leading people to wonder how specifically our generation can bring Moshiach. Hashem’s answer is that this is exactly the greatness of our avodah. Even when godliness is hidden and connection is difficult, serving Hashem with mesiras nefesh and commitment draws down a blessing far beyond logic. The takeaway is that questions are not always signs of weakness; sometimes they reflect a sincere desire to connect more deeply. And specifically through remaining committed during the hardest times, we bring the גאולה.

לקו״ש כז-ב

When discussing all the Yomim Tovim throughout the year, the Torah presents them according to their specific times, and the Mishnah and Gemara follow that structure. However, Maimonides arranges time-sensitive mitzvos not by calendar, but by their importance to the person—the most essential come first. He introduces them with the verse, “Your Mitzvos are my inheritance forever,” raising the question: how can mitzvos tied to specific times be called “forever”? The answer is that there are two ways to view them—either as limited to their moment, or as a constant responsibility that only finds expression at certain times of the year.

Even though Shabbos and Yom Tov occur at set times, their preparation, anticipation, and mindset extend throughout the week, showing that their presence is constant. On a deeper level, the power of a mitzvah is that it transforms a moment into something eternal. Celebrating freedom on Pesach allows that sense of freedom to be felt all year, and receiving the Torah on Shavuos becomes a daily lived experience. A single mitzvah creates a lasting bond with Hashem—one that is not temporary, but remains with a person forever.

לקו״ש לב-א

The Torah in Leviticus teaches, “Before a blind person you shall not place a stumbling block,” which Rashi explains is not physical harm. Rather, it refers to someone who is “blind” in a situation—lacking clarity—and depends on others for guidance. Giving advice that is not truly in his best interest, even if it has some advantages, is considered placing a stumbling block, because you are causing him to make a misstep based on misplaced trust.

Rashi adds that the prohibition goes even further: even if the advice could benefit him somewhat, if you have any personal interest involved—such as wanting to acquire what he is selling—you may not advise him. Since he assumes you are acting solely for his benefit, any hidden motive turns your guidance into deception. The Torah’s message is clear: when giving advice, it must be completely pure, with no self-interest—only a sincere concern for the other person’s good.

לקו״ש כז-א

The Torah teaches that a Kohen must physically see a nega in order to declare a person impure. If he is blind in one eye or visually impaired, he cannot make that declaration. The discussion revolves around whether this is because proper sight is required to fully assess the affliction—just as a hidden nega does not create impurity—or because such a Kohen is considered a baal mum and therefore unfit for this role. Either way, the halachah remains: without proper vision, he cannot render someone impure.

On a deeper level, tzaraas—despite being a severe and isolating condition—affects only the external layer of a person. Internally, the individual remains whole and pure, still called an Adam, a term representing a high and elevated state. A blind person, described as a sagi nahor—“full of light”—reflects a deeper kind of vision, one that sees beyond surface flaws to the inner essence. The message is clear: true vision means looking past imperfections and recognizing the core goodness and potential within every person.

לקו״ש לב-ב

Shabbos Hagadol is called “great” because of a unique miracle that happened before Yetziyas Mitzrayim, when the Egyptian firstborn fought against their own people. Unlike other Yomim Tovim, which celebrate open miracles and are set by the lunar month, this miracle appeared natural on the surface and is therefore marked on Shabbos, representing nature. Its true greatness is that Hashem did not just break nature — He transformed it, causing the enemies themselves to carry out His will. The lesson is to recognize both open miracles and the hidden miracles within nature, and to be thankful for Hashem’s constant involvement in our lives.

לקו״ש לב

The Torah describes the korban brought for an unintentional sin by a כהן גדול and by the community. Although the korban process is essentially the same, the Torah presents them differently. By the כהן גדול the Torah uses the word “kodesh,” however, by the community it does not, as well it also omits some of the details. Rashi explains this with a mashal: when an entire city rebels, it shakes the whole kingdom, and therefore the word kodesh is omitted. However, being that when a king’s close confidant sins, the king tries to minimize the wrongdoing, and therefore by case of the community the Torah omits some of the details.

This idea reflects a deeper truth about how Jews relate to one another. Rabbi Yishmael once said he would want to be the one to bring another Jew’s kaparah simply out of love for him. He did not see another Jew as separate from himself, but as one with him. The same is true with Hashem, who looks at the Jewish people like a beloved child. From here we learn that loving another Jew means not only feeling connected to them, but recognizing that we are one: when another Jew needs help or is stuck in galus, it affects us as well, and by helping another Jew we ultimately help ourselves.

לקו״ש כז-ג

The Torah describes how the chachmei lev, the wise and skilled craftsmen, made not only the beautiful tapestries and curtains of the Mishkan but even the copper pegs and strings that held them down. Rashi explains that these pegs were necessary so the curtains would not be blown by the wind. This teaches a powerful lesson in teaching Torah: it is not enough to give over information; Torah must become anchored within a person so that it permeates their entire being. When Yiddishkeit truly takes root, like by Avraham Avinu whose very “heel” listened to Hashem, it cannot be blown away by life’s winds. Just as a mitzvah is only counted when completed, our generation—standing at the heels of Mashiach—has the special power of finishing the work and bringing it to fulfillment.

לקו״ש לא-א

When Hashem praised Moshe Rabbeinu for breaking the Luchos, it revealed a profound lesson about Torah. A mitzvah is about submission—doing Hashem’s will whether we understand it or not. Torah, however, requires understanding. To truly fulfill the mitzvah of learning Torah, a person must engage fully, using the mind deeply and becoming united with the Torah, like the letters engraved into the Luchos which were one with the stone.

Yet Torah is Divine wisdom, infinite and beyond human limits. Therefore, to connect to its essence we must also break our ego and develop humility. That is why we say in davening, “V’nafshi k’afar la’kol tihyeh,” only then asking Hashem to open our hearts to His Torah.

This is symbolized by the Aron, which contained both the whole and the broken Luchos. A Jew must be fully engaged and intellectually present in Torah, yet at the same time humble and broken. Just as the Aron both took up space and yet measured as if it did not, the essence of the neshamah allows us to hold these opposites together—being whole and broken at the same time—and through that connect to Torah on its deepest level.

לקו״ש כו-ג