Go to yourself. That’s a rough translation of the name of our Parsha. Rabbi Norman Lamm explains that this is a call to “return to your spiritual identity, climb up the ladder to spiritual heights, reach your own soul in ascent.” The Jew, according to Rabbi Lamm and others, must constantly be in flux, yearning to grow more and more each day. Rabbi Lipman Podolsky z”l, a beloved educator in Netiv Aryeh before my time there, yet one whose voice still reverberated through the halls of the yeshiva, likened our existence to being on an escalator. There is no inertia — either you’re going up, or going down. If we wish to ride our own coattails, rest on our laurels of previous accomplishments never seeking to delve deeper, in our service to those around us, God, at work, etc., what are we?

We must always be growing, yet talking about the importance of growth can make light of the Herculean task of actually growing. Our Torah portion immediately begins with Avram being commanded to leave his home and travel to a land that he will be shown only upon actually getting there. He is promised by Hashem that he’ll be made into a great nation and blessed tremendously. It almost seems as if we learn this information in the middle of the story line, yet we are not privy to significant details about who Avram even is or what made him so unique. Nevertheless, Avram, his wife, nephew, and the souls they encountered in Charan set off to their new land. Yet, just as soon as we read of the group on the move, they encounter hardship — a famine. This didn’t appear to be a minor hiccup. Avram was purported to be blessed! Great nation! This is a blessing? The pasuk states “Vayered Avraham Mitzraima”, that Avram went down to Egypt. Rabbi Lamm poignantly notes that Avram was history’s first oleh, and had now become history’s first yored. Even while in Egypt, the trials continue as Sara is taken by Paro.

Rabbi Lamm continues, and quotes the Lubavitcher Rebbe who mentions a familiar topic when it comes to growth. We refer to it as yeridah l’tzorech aliyah, descent for the ultimate purpose of ascent. He writes “Often, you must go down in order to go up to an even higher level than that at which you began. Some failures are merely temporary; that are the future successes in disguise. Sometimes the setback is instrumental to later success. Often you must retreat in order to move on, in which case the retreat is preparatory and part of progress and advance.” Yet, through the rest of the Parsha, as well as Sefer Bereishis, we will read about the life of Avraham and there are plenty of times in which this missive comes into play. Avraham Avinu is referred to as Av Hamon Goyim, the father of many nations. Looking back on his life, would anyone venture to say that he was not truly blessed?

In the grand scheme of our existence, we too encounter situations, albeit on a much smaller scale, where our path to something great is met with disappointment at various junctures. These hurdles may knock us out temporarily, or even force us into a deep yeridah. Living a life dedicated to Hashem is not necessarily one of ease. How many generations of Jews have uttered shver zol zayn a yid? Nevertheless, the growth and blessing that we so desperately seek is something that cannot be measured day by day. There are days in which we make tremendous strides in one direction, while other days see us going the opposite way. When a child says they want to be taller, we tell them to wait, because though they are small now, they will one day grow. It’s not always easy to accept the bumps in the road. What’s even more discouraging is that if we acquiesce that we must descend first, it’s may be even harder to pull ourselves out from that tailspin. Fostering lasting growth is hard enough to accomplish when we are on solid ground. When we are struggling, it can be even harder.

There are two suggestions that come to mind when pondering this conundrum over. First, one of my favorite points that I’ve mentioned before comes from Rabbi Moshe Weinberger’s commentary on Rav Kook’s Oros HaTeshuvah. In the times that seem darkest in our lives, those are the precise moments when we can create immense kedushah and meaning. Sometimes, through the pain that we feel, we can conjure up the strength to move mountains.

The second point is a notion based off “sheva yipol tzaddik vekam,” that a tzaddik falls seven times and gets up. This part of Mishlei doesn’t teach us that a righteous person never has shortcomings or frustrations in their life. It points out to us that they get up and continue to exist despite them. It could be 7 times, 70 times, or more. This growth that we seek in our own “Lech Lecha” moments will only exude through our own efforts, despite the roadblocks we may face. Hashem was true to His word, Avraham’s life was ultimately blessed, even in the face of immense challenges that could derail others. Hopefully our lives will be so blessed as well.

 

Noach is one of the most interesting, complex characters in the entire Torah. The end of Parshas Bereishis notes that Hashem was disheartened with the behavior of the people whom He had created, yet the final verse of the Parsha states that Noach, however, found favor in the eyes of Hashem. The next verse, the opening line of our Parsha, goes even further than that. “These are the generations of Noach, Noach was a righteous man he was perfect in his generations; Noach walked with God.” In addition to the praise previously offered, we see here that Noach seems to be regarded in very high esteem. If you look at the way he is described here, you won’t find many other individuals in the entire Torah who are levied with such praise. Furthermore, he’s given such accolades without even delineating what it was that classified him as a righteous and perfect person!

Yet, at the end of the parsha we see a different individual. The prior Noach is now drunk, naked, embarrassed, casting curses and relegated to an Ish HaAdama, a man of the soil. Rashi tells us even before we read this section of the Parsha that Noach was indeed righteous, but had he been alive in the time of Avraham Avinu, he wouldn’t have been considered important at all. After all, the verse says Noach walked with God. Rashi cites the Medrash Tanchuma that Noach relied on God to keep him on the path of tzidkus, while Avraham did not require this measure and was mechazek himself and ascended to righteousness on his own.

So which one is it?  Righteous or not righteous?

There is a great amount to unpack in reference to these statements of Rashi. These aren’t the mere musings of a random commentary. The words of Rashi carry significant weight. Is it really accurate to state that Noach was only righteous in his time? Even if it is, so what? What’s so nefarious in stating that Noach was only righteous in his generation and had he lived in the time of Avraham he wouldn’t have been regarded so loftily? If we, in 2017/5778 lived in the time of Avraham Avinu, would we have been considered tzaddikim? What indicators are there that the individuals we reflect upon with reverence today would be a blip on the righteousness radar in the times of Abraham?  Avraham pulled himself up by his bootstraps from the throes of idolatry and became a tzaddik. Noach relied on Hashem to support him. Who do we rely on today? We are living in an unparalleled period with more resources and access to scholars than ever before to help us on our journey to righteousness, certainly greater than those available to Noach in his generation, Avraham’s generation, and many that followed. Where exactly does that leave us?

Truth be told, it Rashi’s comment doesn’t bother me. Noach can still be a truly righteous person while also paling in comparison to Avraham. This idea can be applied in relation to sports players of different eras. There are players in every sport who are talented and great at what they do. However, no matter when they play their game, there will always be players before or after them who will have been better. Player X may be the best player in their league this year, but had they been playing in the time period of player Y, their athletic abilities may not have shone as brightly. They may have been a mediocre player on a good team, while a star player on an abysmal one. If one watches a sporting event with a old-time fan, they’ll tell you stories of the players they followed decades ago with great detail. Many times, one might be regaled with tales of how these players today have changed their sport, for better or for worse. This type of comparison talk has existed for centuries, from the time of Noach to this very day.

Are we to remember Noach as righteous for listening to God’s commandments in a time that was dominated by those who did not, or should Noach be remembered for all time as a drunkard who sought to jinx his own descendants? To me, the overwhelmingly obvious answer is the former. One need not be the most righteous person in the history of the world to be considered among the tzaddikim. Noach is no exception.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not so long from now we’ll be zoche to finish reading the entire Torah, and begin anew with Sefer Bereishis. Given the amount of things that I need to do in order to be ready for Chag, I will present a slightly truncated idea on Parshas Bereishis. I say truncated not because it will be short in length, but rather the Dvar Torah has a similar message to what we’ve discussed in an earlier post.

In this week’s Sedrah, we begin with the creation of the entire world by God. Have you ever taken a moment to reflect on just what that means? When we are young, we have a very cursory understanding of the work the Almighty had done. As we go on in age and understanding, our wisdom must get deeper as well. When we say that God created the animals, it’s not just that He made cats and dogs and goldfish. It’s that he imbued every single living thing with intricacies and nuances that are incomprehensible. Animals and plants have tiny, microscopic workings. He created them on their day, but he created the cells, hair follicles, etc. There is so much more to marvel at once you take a look below the surface.

The beginning of the Parsha speaks of Hashem creating the two great luminaries: the great luminary to rule the day, and the small luminary to rule the night, and the stars. We would otherwise refer to them as the sun and moon. The sun and the moon are referred to as great, they both have significant power. Can you imagine living without the light of the sun? Can you picture a pitch black sky with no moon to light up the night? Rabbi Soloveitchik notes something interesting about the me’or hagadol and the me’or hakaton. While the sun gives off light, the moon has no light source of its own, and only reflects the light it receives (the overwhelming majority comes from the sun, but some light also stems from stars and Earth).  That is precisely the reason, explains the Rav, why the moon is referred to as the small luminary, the me’or hakaton while the sun is known as the great luminary, the me’or hagadol. A katan takes, while a gadol gives. Rav Soloveitchik continues that this is exactly why at a bris milah, we bless the newborn baby by saying “zeh katan vegadol yihiyeh”, that this child is now small, but they will ultimately grow. From the time the child is conceived until many years later, the child receives the benefits of those around them. It is our hope, our blessing, that they are set on the right path to ultimately shed this moniker and become a gadol, one who gives and always seeks to give.

There are people who are fully grown who have yet to understand this message. Anyone can be a gadol. May the Almighty continue to find ways to help us live great lives as gedolim who give to those around us.

The holiday of Sukkos is at the end of a marathon of yuntifs. It’s a unique holiday, being a part of the Shalosh Regalim with Pesach and Shavuos, and also being immediately following the Yamim Noraim. Although it’s a wonderful holiday, there seems to be something a bit off about this particular Chag. What is so special about Sukkos that we’re celebrating an entire holiday dedicated to the huts that the Jewish people lived in while traversing through the desert after they left Egypt? This is a question posed by many, including Rabbi Chaim HaKohen Fatchia, (the Chalban), who goes even further to say that it seems that there’s a “problem” with the nature of the holiday itself. He writes that Pesach and Shavuos commemorate clear events, seminal moments in the course of the Jewish people (the former being the Exodus from Egypt and the latter being Matan Torah). These were no ordinary days. The Chalban notes that the very verse in the Torah that alludes to this festival, is really pointing out that we are to sit in Sukkot for seven days, as a means of hearkening back to a singular part of yetzias Mitzrayim, a general time to which we have an entire holiday devoted. Furthermore, he continues, why is there no yuntif commemorating the mahn that descended from the sky, or for the water that came from the rock?

Rabbi Eliezer explains (Sukkah 11b) that the sukkah is an allusion to the Ananei HaKavod, the Clouds of Glory that were created by God to guide Bnai Yisrael as they wandered from Egypt through the desert. If we take this approach to heart, that the sukkah is zeicher l’Ananei HaKavod, we can come up with a similar question as we originally had. Do the Ananei HaKavod themselves merit an entire holiday?

Rav Asher Weiss (Minchas Asher Sichos al HaMoadim vol. 1) explains that although they may seem too trivial to be the source of a yuntif, the Ananei HaKavod were a true gift from Hashem. This matanah differed greatly from the mahn or the water from the rock because those, in essence, cannot be considered gifts. Food and water are absolute necessities for life, explains the Minchas Asher. God providing Bnai Yisrael with food and water, truly miraculous events, would not bring about a separate holiday. The Ananei HaKavod provided something for the Jewish people that they could have lived without, yet, Hashem gave them anyway to enhance their journey to the land of Israel. For this, says Rav Asher Weiss, we celebrate the Clouds of Glory by themselves with a separate holiday.

Rav Avraham Schorr (HaLekach VeHalibuv Sukkos) adds an exclamation point to the significance of the Ananei HaKavod. The holiday itself was not just commemorating the existence of the Clouds of Glory, but the fact that they returned within Bnai Yisrael on the 15th of Tishrei, the first day of Sukkos. Rav Schorr, in longer essay, writes that the entire holiday of Sukkos is a tikkun for cheit ha’eigel. He quotes the Gr”a on Shir HaShirim who writes that at the time of the sin of the golden calf, the Clouds of Glory completely disappeared from Bnai Yisrael. Moshe Rabbeinu descended from Har Sinai with the second set of luchos on Yom Kippur, and on the next day, the 11th of Tishrei, gave the command to the Jewish people that they were to build the Mishkan. For the next two days (Tishrei 12 and 13), the people brought the items needed to construct the Tabernacle which they had just been commanded to build. This continued on the 14th day of Tishrei when the Chachmei Lev took stock of all that had been donated. Finally, on the 15th day of Tishrei, the construction began, and it was then that the Ananei HaKavod came back to the Israelite camp.

It’s interesting to note that even after Moshe beseeches God to take Bnai Yisrael back into His good graces, in addition to forgiving them for their egregious sin, the Ananei HaKavod only reappeared when the Jewish people took tangible steps toward mending their relationship with the Almighty.

Chag Sameach!

This past May, a man by the name of Stanislav Petrov passed away. For some people, myself included, this event passed by without a degree of fanfare. But for others, hearing of his demise brought to mind someone they may not have thought about since 1983. Stanislav Petrov as coined by some as “the man who saved the world.”

His Wikipedia biography will tell you:

On September 26, 1983, Stanislav Petrov, a lieutenant colonel in the Soviet Air Defense Forces, was the officer on duty at the Serpukhov-15 bunker near Moscow which housed the command center of the Soviet early warning satellites, code-named Oko. Petrov’s responsibilities included observing the satellite early warning network and notifying his superiors of any impending nuclear missile attack against the Soviet Union. If notification was received from the early warning systems that inbound missiles had been detected, the Soviet Union’s strategy was an immediate and compulsory nuclear counter-attack against the United States (launch on warning), specified in the doctrine of mutual assured destruction.

The Cold War was waging. Just a few short weeks after the Soviet military had shot down a Korean Air Lines flight, while on patrol, the system reported that a missile had been launched from the United States, followed by up to five more. Petrov saw the alerts, and in an instant knew that this would be no ordinary day on the job. He sat down not knowing what to do. Is this real? Is the US attacking, prompting what would be the start of World War III?

After a few minutes that seemed like an eternity, Petrov judged the reports to be a false alarm, and to not begin a retaliatory onslaught. This decision is credited with having prevented an erroneous nuclear attack on the United States and its NATO allies that could have resulted in large-scale nuclear war. Upon investigation, it was later confirmed that the Soviet satellite warning system that Petrov was monitoring had indeed malfunctioned. 

This decision of Petrov to not fight back against what appeared to be five or more missiles from the United States was truly unbelievable. It’s hard to imagine what someone would do in that type of situation. But what made him so sure that it was a false alarm, and that there in fact no missiles flying overhead toward him? In an interview given much later, Petrov opened up about that fateful day. He explained that something seemed off about the presence of only a small amount of missiles. Petrov noted that if the United States was going to attack, it would most likely be by sending over a large barrage of weaponry. “You’re not starting a war with only 5 missiles.”

Hearing this story made me think about an attitude toward Neilah on Yom Kippur. Although it’s later in the day, and it’s the point when we are groggy from fasting, Neilah is the crescendo, the most powerful point of Yom HaKippurim. It’s our final chance to take the messages of the past 40 days, from Rosh Chodesh Elul until this very tefillah, and make our final push for a favorable judgement being sealed in the book of life. It’s our time to fire our “missiles” toward Shamayim, beseeching God to remember us for good. He is sitting at His post, waiting for our united front of teshuvah. The revolution we want won’t happen with only five missiles, as Petrov noted in his situation. But if my five, and your five, connect with the teshuvah of the rest of Klal Yisrael, we will hopefully merit to be sealed b’Sefer HaChaim.

We are now a well into the month of Elul, the time on the Jewish calendar associated with readying ourselves for the Yamim Noraim. We are to have taken these weeks preceding the High Holidays as a time for soul-searching and reflection. Although we are not excused from doing so throughout the year, the teshuvah process is kicked into high gear when the month of Elul arrives, much like the time preceding April 15th for those preparing their taxes. The “deadline” so to speak is fast approaching.

Rabbi Moshe Weinberger, in his commentary on Rabbi Avraham Yitzchak HaKohen Kook’s Oros HaTeshuvah, beautifully expounds on ideas pertaining to teshuvah which I found significantly meaningful. In relation to a comment by Rav Kook in chapter four of Oros HaTeshuvah. Rav Kook writes there that throughout the teshuvah process, there will be things that remove one from being close to God. To the baal teshuvah, one who is engaged in teshuvah, there will be great pain in recalling these events. Yet, Rav Kook maintains it will be accompanied by a calmness that will overcome them in their effort to mend their ways. Rabbi Weinberger comments here that a baal teshuvah must not destroy their past, but uplift it.

In the process of our lives, we live in moments. Some moments make us proud of who we are and what we’ve accomplished. Conversely, some moments render us dejected, forcing us to wallow in our own sadness until, through our own actions or the actions of others, we can shake our morose state of being. Each individual has moments like this in their life. No two individuals have the same ones. The positive moments that evoke pride and happiness serve as the benchmark for what we hope to achieve. The negative moments that make us cringe uncomfortably serve as the catalyst for our growth. Many times, we seek to eradicate any memory of such shortcomings. As Rabbi Weinberger says, we must uplift the past. We must take that zeal, that alacrity exhibited as we ran to perform the actions of our lowest points and employ it in our new endeavors to better ourselves. Reminiscent of the hadran prayer recited when one makes a siyum, we must be among those who run toward Olam Haba. And in seeking to do teshuvah for moments past when we ran the other direction, we must muster up the ability to take that excitement and energy exuded then and propel us forward into repentance.

 

On August 16, 2005 (11 Av 5765), the Balk family witnessed the hand of God, as my mother A”H received a new liver. Through her illness, we became even stronger supporters of organ donation.

This is a story with spindles reaching back about 50 years. In 1969, Congregation Bnai Amoona hired a new cantor. His name was Leon Lissek. For nearly the next 5 decades, the Balk and Lissek families have been very closely intertwined. He was, and still is, revered in my house, as well as the homes of my grandparents and aunts and uncles. Much of my father and uncle’s cantorial knowledge and repertoire has been gleaned from him. My sister and I grew up listening to Chazzan Lissek’s music among the other chazzanus selections on our family car rides. Only one of us may have gained an appreciation for it to date. He and his wife have celebrated with us and mourned with us as well. I remember at my Bar Mitzvah when my father asked Chazzan Lissek to recite kiddush for everyone at the luncheon after davening. His voice filled the entire massive room. I was no less surprised at my aufruf at Bnai Yeshurun in Teaneck, only a stone’s throw from his home, when we gave him the Levi aliyah. I left the room to grab a tissue as he ascended the bima for the bracha, and I thought that someone had clandestinely placed a microphone under the table so that the sound would transmit his booming voice out into the hallway. Nobody did. That’s just Chazzan Lissek.

When my father told me that the Chazzan was in need of a kidney, I was floored. Yet, the octogenarian Holocaust survivor takes better care of himself than someone a fraction his age and wasn’t even on dialysis! It was due to this self-care that he got the okay to be put on a transplant list. Renewal, an unbelievable “kidney shadchanus” organization, was on the case in order to find him a suitable donor. It was amazing to see that there was an awareness event at Bnai Amoona in St. Louis, where if the walls could talk (even in the new building), they would tell you of the liturgy that Chazzan Lissek chanted so beautifully. While this was going on, many people sought to see if they were a match. One such individual who wanted to help out was Rabbi Shelley Kniaz, a friend of the Lissek family. Although she was not a match for the Chazzan, she was a match for someone else! She donated a kidney to someone in need just a few weeks ago. (You can read about her story here and here). Rabbi Kniaz was my wife’s boss when she worked at her synagogue’s Hebrew school. She, like Chazzan Lissek, were both at our wedding.

A few weeks ago, my father called me after 10:00 PM, something that doesn’t usually occur unless there is news. I asked what was wrong and he assured me everything was fine, and that Chazzan Lissek had found a kidney! Estee and I were ecstatic, but when he told us who the donor would be, we were shocked: my Aunt Lynnsie. My Aunt Lynnsie who was raised in the sanctuary and hallways of Bnai Amoona, when the Chazzan’s voice still permeated the building. The same Bnai Amoona where her own children were raised. My Aunt came in to visit my cousin, while clandestinely undergoing more testing. Everything looked great, and she was cleared for surgery, which took place today. She told us that she was donating her kidney in honor of my mother, not in memory of her. Thank God, both she and Chazzan Lissek are recovering nicely, and we could not be more proud.

There is plenty more to say about this amazing story. It’s hard to know what our lives have in store for us, or how the people in our lives from various points will make their mark on us, or in us for that matter. Who would’ve imagined that two families, close for decades, could be brought even closer together through something as magical as this. We always knew that part of Bnai Amoona was inside of the entire Balk family. It’s touching to see that part of our family, literally, is inside of part of the Bnai Amoona extended family as well.

Please continue to daven for the continued refuah sheleima of Miriam bat Rachel and Aryeh Shimon HaLevi ben Chana. We look forward to sharing many more happy occasions together!

The Torah tells us that Aharon HaKohen died on the first day of the fifth month, which corresponds to Rosh Chodesh Av. Our sages explain that what occurs on a Rosh Chodesh sets the tone for the entire month. Rabbi Tzvi Meir Zilberberg of Yerushalaim, among others, writes that the power of the month of Av lies within the various kochos of Aharon HaKohen.

What exactly does that mean?

Hillel says in Pirkei Avos that we are to be like the students of Aharon, a lover and pursuer of peace, one who loves people, and strives to bring them closer to Torah. We can gain much from implementing these ideas into our lives. One koach here is taking action. Everyone in their right mind should be a lover of peace. We are not born into the world with a lust for war and violence. The message of Aharon HaKohen is to not be comfortable with the idea of peace, but one must actually be a rodef, one who chases peace. When there is strife in our midst, it should bother us until it is ultimately rectified. If we can help serve as the catalyst for Shalom, even better.

We are to love those around us. God put everything on earth in its specific purpose for a unique reason. This fact remains true althoguh we’re not always privy to the blueprints or details as to why. We are to be loving because Hakadosh Baruch Hu is a loving God and we strive to emulate him. Furthermore, an ideal promulgated by Aharon is to bring them closer to God and His Torah. I once heard from Rabbi Shaul Alter, head of the Sfas Emes Yeshiva in Yerushalaim and son of the previous Gerrer Rebbe, that although we’re not Chabad emissaries, we are all on shlichus. We Jews are to serve as aids and resources for those around us in relation to Torah. It doesn’t matter how much we know or don’t know, or how involved or uninvolved we are.

These messages of Aharon can serve as our springboard for remediating our situation today of living without a Beis HaMikdash. Had the Jewish people so many years ago clung to the ideas of Aharon HaKohen the landscape of world Jewry could be vastly different.

May we be successful in implementing the goals of loving and pursuing peace, loving the creations of God, and bringing them closer to His Torah in our own lives.

As we begin the nine days from Rosh Chodesh until the 9th of Av, it’s important to reflect and try and put ourselves in the right frame of mind in regard to the calamity that befell the Jewish people. This Shabbos, Parshas Devarim, we will be reading the final of the three haftoros of affliction. It’s taken from the first chapter of Yeshayahu and it’s fascinating. When we look back at Tisha B’Av, we often will recall the various destructive events that occurred during the timeline of Jewish history and how each nation would rise against us. While it may be easy to play the victim card and rush to castigate the gentile world for all the terror they’ve unleashed upon us, one cannot disregard the fact that the missteps of Bnai Yisrael have unfortunately played a large part in the original destruction associated with Tisha B’Av.

Rav Mendel Hirsch, the 19th century scholar and son of Rav Shamshon Raphael Hirsch, explains that when reading through the beginning of the book of Isaiah, the text itself describes the tremendous foibles and shortcomings that ultimately caused such great suffering and sorrow. In the third pasuk of the first perek, Yeshayahu makes it very clear how great our sin was. “An ox knows his owner and a donkey his master’s crib; Israel does not know, my people does not comprehend.” Rashi has astute comments here, asserting that An ox recognizes his owner and his fear is upon him, and the beast does not turn to its master and say “I won’t be plowing the fields today.” Similarly, the donkey will not respond to its owner “Today I won’t be saddled with your loads.” But Israel? They do not know their Master, nor do they comprehend. They do not comprehend that they have deviated so greatly away from the Almighty. They do not comprehend that they the very commandments they ignored were instituted “letovascha, u’lehanascha,” to better and and benefit us. Even sadder, Israel does not comprehend the significance of their betrayal. Livestock can decipher who their owners are, masters who are mere mortals and inferior in every conceivable way to God. Yet, Bnai Yisrael, more intellectually competent beings are not following the will of their own master. It’s tragic and damning. These words were written at a time when prophecy still existed. The word of God was being broadcast by the Navi, and even then the nation was still subject to wanton acts of sin. Today, due to these unfortunate acts, we no longer have a Temple or prophets or nevuah. Having known what it was like to have lost one Beis Hamikdash, hindsight would scream out to us that there was no way we could let something like that occur once more. And yet, “Yisrael lo yada”, Israel did not comprehend, and occur it did.

We live in a time where we too do not fully understand what’s missing, how it was lost, or even why we are mourning. We walk into shul on Tisha B’Av and sit low on the floor in darkness and in silence, yet many times, we don’t even know what we’re there for. I heard a rav once explain that you can’t just come into shul on the 9th of Av and expect to “feel” the significance of the day. Like many times on our calendar, it takes preparation and introspection because we are so far removed.

It’s true, that at the time of the Navi, Israel did not comprehend. It’s vital that over the next nine days that we make an effort to, even if only a little bit.

In the second of the parshios read this week, Mas’ei, the borders of Israel are delineated, which will ultimately shape the landscape of the land allotted to each of the Shvatim. On the surface, this passage doesn’t necessarily seem like the most exciting or meaningful event. Yet, Rav Elchanan Wasserman has a fascinating insight about parts of the border that are listed, and his comments are something that one might not expect to realize at first glance.

Two of the bodies of water listed in the parsha are Yam Kinneret and Yam HaMelach, also known as the Sea of Galilee and the Dead Sea. Rav Wasserman explains that, as is known, the Kinneret is where all of the waters flow from, while the Dead Sea is where the waters empty into. One would think that a sea where water flows to would be a thriving body of water rich with marine life. Yet, the Dead Sea is salty and barren (it’s not called the Dead Sea for nothing). Furthermore, if one were to place a plant or animal in the Yam HaMelach, even though there are none native to it, they would not be able to survive. The sea that “gives”, the Kinneret, is brimming with aquatic life and drinkable water, while the sea that “takes” is the one that we’ve labeled as “dead.”

This is a tremendous mashal for all of us. The Jewish people are a giving people. When the Torah writes about a poor person in our midst, they’re listed as “achicha ha’evyon”, your poor brother. We are commanded against charging interest to Jews because who are we to say to a crestfallen member of our tribe that we’ll help them, but at a cost? The entire notion of Rav Wasserman’s statement runs counter to everything that makes sense. If I had 10 apples, and gave you 5 of them, I’d have given you half of my bounty. Yet, we see through the Kinneret that when we give of what is ours, whether it was something that was gifted to us or we worked hard to obtain it, we will continue to be blessed. There are individuals in my life that I know to give until it hurts, and I find myself gaining exponentially from them. When you forego utilizing what you have for yourself, you gain so much more. When you constantly seek to take and amass from every possible source, what are you?

May we be zoche to give what we have, and, in doing so, be blessed with even more to give in return.