Am Yisrael arrives in Kadesh, near the end of their 40-year journey. The final stretch before entering Eretz Yisrael.

וַתָּ֤מׇת שָׁם֙ מִרְיָ֔ם וַתִּקָּבֵ֖ר שָֽׁם׃

“Miryam died there and was buried there.”

(Bemidbar 20:1)

The Torah gives no hesped, no tears, no mourning.

Just a silence.

Then:

וְלֹא־הָיָ֥ה מַ֖יִם לָעֵדָ֑ה

“There was no water for the congregation.”

(20:2)

Chazal make the connection instantly.

📖 Ta’anit 9a teaches:

Three gifts sustained Israel in the midbar — the man, the ananei ha-kavod, and the well — in the merit of Moshe, Aharon, and Miryam.

When she died, the well stopped.

But why did water flow in her merit?

Hashem doesn’t just answer Korach once.

He responds three times, with three miracles:

1. The earth opens its mouth and swallows Korach and his household.

2. Fire from Heaven consumes the 250 men who bring unauthorized incense.

3. Aharon’s staff—a dry stick—miraculously buds, blossoms, and grows almonds.

Why three?

The Maharal explains:

Each punishment addressed a different level of rebellion—

—Against order,

—Against holiness,

—And against truth itself.

The Ari z”l adds something incredible.

He writes in Sha’ar HaGilgulim that Korach is a reincarnation of Kayin.

Just as Kayin couldn’t handle being surpassed by Hevel,

Korach couldn’t handle being surpassed by Aharon.

So this time, the ground doesn’t just swallow blood.

It opens its mouth, and swallows the man himself.

Blessing in the Home: The Role of the Wife

The Gemara in Bava Metzia 59a makes a bold statement:

“A person should always be careful to honor his wife, because blessing is only found in a man’s home on account of his wife.”

This is not mere sentiment—it’s Torah truth. The Gemara cites Avraham in Egypt: “And Avram was enriched… because of her,” referring to Sarah (Bereishit 12:16). From the outset, the Torah teaches that material blessing, like spiritual strength, flows through the woman of the home.

The Zohar (I:49b) goes further: The Shechinah itself rests upon a home only when there is harmony between husband and wife. She is called akeiret habayit—not just the “homemaker” in the modern sense, but the ikar, the essence of the Jewish home. She holds the key to its spiritual DNA.

But just as she can build, she can also destroy. And this week’s parashah, Korach, provides us with both extremes.

 Last April, I was walking down the street in Tel Aviv with my granddaughter Orly Adele. She was three years old at the time. Playful. Curious. Holding my hand. 

Suddenly she stopped and pointed at a corner and said: 'Grandpa, if the siren goes off while we are walking, we can go there… or there… but not there or there.' 

Three years old — and already calculating survival options. 

Cute? Yes. But chilling. 

You see, in Israel, childhood comes wrapped in barbed wire. In bunkers. In red alerts. It’s not just ma’aseh hayom — it’s the air they breathe. 

And now, a year later, the sirens haven’t stopped. If anything, they’ve multiplied. And the missiles? They’re not coming from Gaza anymore. They’re coming from Persia. From Iran.  

This week… we read a parashah that cuts deep. Parashat Shelach. The tragedy of the meraglim—the spies—echoes through every generation. 

 But maybe… just maybe… we’ve misunderstood the ending. 

 Maybe the story didn’t end in punishment… but in promise. 

 Because hidden in the rebuke, in the decree, in the wandering… is the whisper of eternity.  

 The Torah tells us: 

 “And the
children of Israel were in the wilderness, and they found a man gathering
sticks on the Sabbath day…” 

וַיִּהְיוּ בְנֵי־יִשְׂרָאֵל בַּמִּדְבָּר, וַיִּמְצְאוּ אִישׁ
מְקֹשֵׁשׁ עֵצִים, בְּיוֹם הַשַּׁבָּת (במדבר ט״ו:ל״ב) 

He is brought before Moshe. He is warned. And when he
refuses to stop, he is judged — and ultimately executed. 

 “And the
entire assembly removed him to the outside of the camp and stoned him with
stones, and he died, as Hashem had commanded Moshe.” 

וַיּוֹצִיאוּ אֹתוֹ כָּל־הָעֵדָה אֶל־מִחוּץ לַמַּחֲנֶה, וַיִּרְגְּמוּ
אֹתוֹ בָאֲבָנִים וַיָּמֹת, כַּאֲשֶׁר צִוָּה ה׳ אֶת־מֹשֶׁה (שם ט״ו:ל״ו) 

Immediately following this episode comes the mitzvah of
tzitzit: 

 “Speak to
the Children of Israel and say to them that they shall make for themselves
fringes on the corners of their garments…” 

דַּבֵּר אֶל־בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל וְאָמַרְתָּ אֲלֵהֶם, וְעָשׂוּ לָהֶם
צִיצִת עַל־כַּנְפֵי בִגְדֵיהֶם לְדֹרֹתָם… (שם ט״ו:ל״ח) 

Why this juxtaposition? 

 Shabbat, the Menorah, and the Awakening of a Nation 

Inspired by the Call of the Rishon LeTzion, Rav Shlomo Amar,
and Parshat Beha’alotcha 

This week’s Torah portion, Beha’alotcha, begins with a
command to Aharon HaKohen to light the Menorah — the eternal flame that
symbolizes divine wisdom, clarity, and spiritual illumination. And in a way
that only the Torah can, a deeper meaning flickers to life: 

בְּהַעֲלֹתְךָ אֶת הַנֵּרוֹת – 'When you kindle the
lamps...' (Bamidbar 8:2) 

Rashi explains: “This teaches that the flame should rise on
its own.” 

The Menorah was not just a ritual. It was a spiritual
ignition. The Kohen lit the wick — but the flame had to rise independently.
That’s the model of true spiritual awakening: you can inspire someone, but the
light has to catch on its own and illuminate the world. 

This week, that flame is rising again — in the streets, on
the front lines, in homes, in bunkers, in the hearts of a people who are waking
up. 

From the Darkness of Exile to the Dawn of Redemption 

In a powerful letter written for this Shabbat, Rav Shlomo
Moshe Amar, Rishon LeTzion and former Chief Rabbi of Israel, declares with
clarity: 

'The time has come and the voice of redemption is being
heard — a voice of joy, a voice of salvation.' 

He describes an awakening among Israeli soldiers — secular,
unaffiliated, often raised far from tradition — who are grabbing hold of
Tehillim, wrapping Tefillin, and choosing to keep Shabbat on the battlefield.
He calls it “a mighty spiritual awakening.” 

But this awakening is not only theirs — it must be ours. 

The Enemy that Attacks When We Are Weak 

Later in this parsha, we are told what happens when the
light of the Menorah is not protected — when achdut (unity) breaks, when
complaint and confusion enter the camp: 

וַיְהִי הָעָם כְּמִתְאֹנְנִים – 'The people were like
those who seek a pretext...' (Bamidbar 11:1) 

And soon after, we hear about external threats: 

וְכִי־תָבֹאוּ מִלְחָמָה בְאַרְצְכֶם עַל־הַצַּר הַצֹּרֵר אֶתְכֶם 

'When you go to war in your land against an enemy who
oppresses you…' (Bamidbar 10:9) 

The Torah instructs us: blow the trumpets. Sound the alarm.
But not just for defense. The pasuk continues: 

וְנִזְכַּרְתֶּם לִפְנֵי ה׳ אֱלֹקֵיכֶם – “And you shall be
remembered before Hashem your God.” 

War, in the Torah’s language, is never just physical. It is
spiritual warfare, demanding spiritual responses. Sounding the trumpet is a
call to Heaven, a cry for divine remembrance. And the Menorah? It is the
answer: the light that drives away the darkness. 

Two Shabbatot Can Bring the Geulah 

Rav Amar emphasizes a deep teaching from the Gemara: 

'If the Jewish people keep two Shabbatot properly, they
will be immediately redeemed.' (Shabbat 118b) 

Why Shabbat? Because Shabbat is the Menorah of the week. It
is when we illuminate our homes with kedushah, with Torah, with peace. It
reconnects us with our identity and with each other. 

Every candle we light on Erev Shabbat is another lamp on the
Menorah — a declaration that our homes are not dark. That Am Yisrael is still
burning with holiness. That we are not giving up. 

A Call to Action: Join the Awakening 

Rav Amar calls on every family, community, and shul: 

“With great emotion and with joy, I call upon all the people
of Israel to take part in this sacred endeavor — to uplift Shabbat in their
homes and communities, with honor and love.” 

And this Shabbat, let us join that call. Let us light our
Menorahs — our candles, our homes, our children’s neshamot — and let the light
rise on its own. 

Let’s speak to our children about the power of Shabbat.
Let’s sing together at the table, bless our children with full hearts, speak
words of Torah, and pray for our brothers and sisters on the front lines. 

A Final Blessing 

May Hashem heal the wounded. May He return the captives. May
He protect our soldiers and civilians. And may our light — the light of faith,
of mitzvot, of Shabbat — rise higher and higher. 

בְּהַעֲלֹתְךָ אֶת הַנֵּרוֹת — Light it… and let it rise. 

May we soon merit to see that great light — the rebuilding
of the Beit HaMikdash, the return of the Shechinah, and the arrival of the
final geulah, speedily in our days.