Relevant weekly insights by Rabbi Eli Mansour - delivered directly to your computer and/or mobile device http://itorah.com/parasha-insight/search en-us Copyright 2026 iTorah.com Sun, 19 Apr 2026 00:01:11 GMT Sun, 19 Apr 2026 00:01:11 GMT http://blogs.law.harvard.edu/tech/rss itorahwebsite@gmail.com Rabbi Eli Mansour Relevant weekly insights by Rabbi Eli Mansour Insights into the weekly parasha or upcoming holiday by Rabbi Eli Mansour episodic Torah Learning Resources. itorahwebsite@gmail.com No 83faeda3-0c7f-7500-efb5-22319f3500e7 Much of Parashiyot Tazria-Mesora is devoted to the topic of Sara'at – the affliction that would befall a person on account of certain misdeeds, primarily, the grievous sin of Lashon Ha'ra, negative speech about other people. King David, in a famous verse in Tehillim (34:14), instructs us, "Nesor Leshoncha Me'ra" – "Guard your tongue from evil," urging us to refrain from Lashon Ha'ra. Curiously, this verse continues, "U'sfatecha Mi'daber Mirma" – "and your lips from speaking deceit." At first glance, this means that we are to refrain from both negative speech about other people, and also from misleading others through dishonesty. We must wonder, however, why the verse combines these two admonitions. Seemingly, these are two completely distinct ills – Lashon Ha'ra, and deceit. Why would David combine them into a single warning, urging us to restrain our mouths from both negative talk about people and from dishonesty? We might perhaps arrive at a new understanding of this verse by exploring the psychological underpinnings of the desire to speak Lashon Ha'ra, why we are so often and so naturally inclined to hear and share negative information about other people, and why we find it so difficult to refrain from such speech. The most common reason people enjoy speaking Lashon Ha'ra, I think, is to feel good about themselves. We are all human, and human beings, by definition, are flawed and imperfect. A person's flaws and imperfections make him uncomfortable, bringing feelings of shame, inadequacy and insecurity. Speaking of other people's failings works like a drug to alleviate this discomfort. Focusing one's attention on another person's inadequacies brings a sense of superiority, thereby allowing him to feel good about himself. This is the lure of Lashon Ha'ra, and why nearly every person feels tempted to speak negatively about others. Since every person has faults which make him uncomfortable, every person feels a natural impulse to alleviate this discomfort the easy way – by looking down on other people, by talking about what they do wrong. However, like with all "drugs," this is the wrong way to handle uncomfortable feelings. When the fleeting rush of excitement fades, the person is still left with his deficiencies, and thus with his feelings of insecurity. Looking down on other people temporarily blinds a person to his own faults, but those faults remain, and will continue to make him feel uneasy and insecure. This might be the meaning of the verse in Tehillim cited earlier. "Guard your tongue from evil, and your lips from speaking deceit." The "deceit" mentioned in this verse perhaps refers to the self-deception of Lashon Ha'ra. When one speaks Lashon Ha'ra, he deceives himself, pretending that he is more impressive and accomplished than he really is. Lashon Ha'ra is all about fooling oneself into thinking that he is great by pointing out the failings of other people. What, then, is the proper way to deal with our feelings of insecurity? How, as imperfect people, can we feel good about ourselves and our lives? The answer is found in the very next verse in Tehillim: "Sur Me'ra Va'aseh Tob" – "Turn away from evil, and do goodness." Quite simply, the way to feel good about ourselves is by trying to be better. Rather than deceiving ourselves, we should instead honestly acknowledge our faults, admit to ourselves that we – like all people – are imperfect and are meant to be imperfect, and try to be better. If we want to live in peace with ourselves, we need to stop fooling ourselves and to instead work hard to address our faults and improve. No, this will not bring the same excitement as hearing or sharing "juicy," unflattering gossip about the people around us. But it will have the long-term effect of making us feel good about ourselves, of bringing us peace of mind and real fulfillment, as we know that we are genuinely making an effort to live our best lives and be the best version of ourselves. Thu, 16 Apr 2026 00:01:11 GMT Rabbi Eli Mansour Rabbi Eli Mansour No Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Parasha, Parsha, Sedra, Chumash 90c6a0a2-557d-bb1d-cd46-a804e2d1732d The Torah in Parashat Shemini tells the tragic story of Nadab and Abihu – two of Aharon's sons, who perished on the very first day they began serving as Kohanim in the Mishkan. After a special series of sacrifices were offered, with Aharon's sons performing the service for the first time, a fire descended from the heavens onto the altar and consumed the sacrifices, signalling the arrival of the Shechina (divine presence) into the Mishkan. Thereafter, Nadab and Abihu brought an incense offering, whereupon a fire came and consumed them. Rashi (10:2) brings different opinions as to the precise sin committed by Aharon's sons. One view – which appears in the Gemara (Erubin 63a) – is that of Rabbi Eliezer, who explains that "Horu Halacha Bi'fneh Moshe Rabban" – Nadab and Abihu were guilty of determining the Halacha without consulting with their Rabbi, Moshe. They reasoned that although a supernatural fire came down onto the altar from the heavens, there was nevertheless a requirement for the Kohanim to kindle a fire of their own on the altar, and this is the reason why they brought their offering. In truth, this conclusion was correct; there was, in fact, such a requirement. Nevertheless, Nadab and Abihu committed a grave offense by acting independently on their line of reasoning without first receiving guidance from Moshe. In Moshe's presence, they did not have the authority to establish Halachic norms on their own. Therefore, although their reasoning was entirely correct, they were guilty of a grievous sin in that they did not submit to Moshe Rabbenu's authority. The Lebush Ha'ora (Rav Mordechai Yoffe, c. 1530-1612) noted that Rabbi Eliezer's understanding of this episode is rooted in a careful reading of the text. In telling of Nadab and Abihu's offering, the Torah writes that they offered an "Esh Zara Asher Lo Siva Otam" – "a foreign fire which He did not command them." If the problem with the Nadab and Abihu's act was the offering itself, then the Torah should have simply stated that they brought an "Esh Zara" – an offering that was foreign, that was unwarranted and hence forbidden. But the Torah added "Asher Lo Siva Otam" – that Nadab and Abihu did not receive the command to bring this offering, suggesting that this was the essence of their sin. Hashem had taught Moshe the rule that the Kohanim were to produce their own fire on the altar, but this information had not yet been communicated to Aharon's sons. Moshe had been commanded to place fire on the altar – but Nadab and Abihu's hadn't. And thus the Torah emphasizes that this was an offering about which Moshe was commanded, but they weren't – and they were therefore punished for acting independently. This tragedy presents us with a crucial lesson in humility. Namely, even when we are confident that we are correct, we must still consult with those wiser and more knowledgeable than us. We must have the humility to recognize our limits, to realize that even things which seem obvious and intuitive to us might not necessarily be correct. We need to acknowledge that there are people with greater knowledge and wisdom whose advice is valuable and even indispensable. We should never feel too confident to ask, to seek guidance, to double check, to consult, to request advice. Even when we are certain, we must humbly question our conclusion and receive instruction and insight from those who know more than we do. Fri, 10 Apr 2026 00:01:11 GMT Rabbi Eli Mansour Rabbi Eli Mansour No Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Parasha, Parsha, Sedra, Chumash e95a1e41-349c-d0ac-2aed-d1260860def2 Toward the end of the Maggid section, we read the famous teaching of Rabban Gamliel: "Whoever did not say the following three things on Pesach has not fulfilled his obligation: Pesach, Masa, and Marror." Rabban Gamliel then proceeds to explain the meaning and significance of these three Misvot. The Pesach sacrifice was offered in the times of the Bet Ha'mikdash to commemorate the miracle of the plague of the firstborn, when Hashem "skipped" ("Pasach") over Beneh Yisrael's homes on the night of the Exodus, protecting them from the plague. The Masa commemorates the fact that Beneh Yisrael left Egypt hastily, without having had time to prepare and to allow their dough to rise. And the Marror symbolizes the "bitterness" of slavery from which our ancestors were saved. At the Seder, we are obligated to discuss the meaning of these three Misvot. Many commentators noted that this passage is stated out of chronological sequence. The "bitterness" of slavery, quite obviously, preceded the plague of the firstborn and Beneh Yisrael's frantic departure from Egypt. Yet, surprisingly, Rabban Gamliel first discusses the Pesach sacrifice and Masa – which commemorate the events of the Exodus – and only then mentions the Marror, which represents the slavery that our ancestors endured prior to their redemption. Why is the Marror mentioned last? Numerous answers have been given to this question, one of which emerges from a deeper understanding of Rabban Gamliel's teaching. Many years ago, as a young Rabbi, I was approached by a group of young men in the community who asked me to deliver a weekly class, which they would host on a rotational basis. These fellows were not particularly observant, and I was very pleased that they expressed interest in a weekly Shiur (Torah class). But when I showed up for the first class, I was aghast. The table was set up for a card game, with chips, cigarettes and beer bottles. I felt very uncomfortable, and I asked the host what this was all about. He explained that this group meets every week for a card game, so they figured they would begin the evening with a Torah class. After that first class, I consulted with a certain great Rabbi to receive guidance. I did not think it was appropriate for me to give a Shiur to these people under these conditions. I'll never forget what the Rabbi told me. "What they do after the Shiur is none of your business," he said. "Your job is to teach them Torah. And the light of Torah will change them." I accepted the advice, and he proved correct. Gradually, all these young men discontinued their improper behavior. It did not happen immediately, but it happened. On another occasion, I was asked to deliver a weekly Torah class to a group of men on Shabbat. Every week, the man who hosted the Shiur in his home would get up and leave in the middle. I later found out that he left for work. Once again, I consulted with a great Rabbi in the community, asking if it was appropriate for me to continue teaching a Torah class in the home of a Shabbat desecrator who gets up to leave in the middle to go to work. "Are you going to wait for him to stop working on Shabbat before teaching him Torah?" the Rabbi told me. Now this man is fully observant, learns Torah for two hours every day, and gives large amounts of money to Sedaka. Three times every weekday, in the Amida prayer, we ask Hashem to help us repent. We ask, "Hashibenu Abinu Le'Toratecha Ve'korbenu Malkenu La'abodatecha" – "Bring us back, our Father, to Your Torah, and draw us close, our King, to Your service." We ask that we be returned to Torah even before our service is complete. We do not wait until our behavior is perfect, until we have fully performed Teshuba, before learning Torah and trying to draw close to Hashem. To the contrary – we are to take the first steps even in our state of imperfection, as these steps will help us improve. This might be the deeper meaning of Rabban Gamliel's teaching about "Pesach, Masa, U'marror." The word "Pesach" means to skip. Rabban Gamliel is teaching us to "skip" right to the "Masa." In a different context, the Sages commented that the word "Masa" is associated with the word "Misva," for we must observe Misvot with zeal and alacrity just as the dough must be handled quickly and rigorously to avoid becoming Hametz. We are to skip to the stage of "Masa," of Misva observance, even before addressing the "Marror" – the "bitterness" of sin and religious failings. Theoretically, we should first cleanse ourselves of wrongdoing before coming to serve G-d. In practice, however, this does not work. If we refrain from Misvot until we fully repent from our misdeeds, we will likely never feel ready to begin our service of Hashem. Rabban Gamliel therefore urges us to skip the stage of "Marror," to begin performing Misvot even if our behavior is far from perfect – as the light of Misvot will help us improve. We begin the Seder with the words "Kadesh U'rhatz" – referring to Kiddush and hand-washing. The message here is that we should strive for "Kadesh" – for holiness, even before we have "washed" ourselves, before we are fully "cleansed" of wrongdoing. Hashem wants us to begin learning Torah and performing Misvot even if we are currently far from perfect, and to trust that the good habits we develop, and the spiritual power of Torah and Misva observance, will impact our souls and our behavior, and lead us to greater purity. Tue, 31 Mar 2026 00:01:11 GMT Rabbi Eli Mansour Rabbi Eli Mansour No Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Parasha, Parsha, Sedra, Chumash e97d85ac-c45d-801e-e118-af547f5ea6bc Several different explanations have been given for why the Shabbat preceding Pesach is given the name "Shabbat Ha'gadol" – literally, "the Great Shabbat." One of the lesser-known reasons is a fascinating connection between this Shabbat and Abraham Abinu. The Gemara in Masechet Rosh Hashanah (11) brings a debate between Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Yehoshua as to the month in which the Abot (patriarchs) passed away. Rabbi Yehoshua maintained that the three Abot – Abraham, Yishak and Yaakob – died during the month of Nissan, whereas Rabbi Eliezer was of the opinion that they passed away during Tishri. However, a different source – the Yalkut Reubeni (in Parashat Lech-Lecha) – states that Abraham Abinu died during the month of Tebet. This is alluded to in G-d's promise to Abraham, "Tikaber Be'seba Toba" – that he would be buried at an advanced age (Bereshit 15:15). The first letters of these three words (Tav, Bet, Tet) are the three letters of the word "Tebet," and the word "Toba" resembles "Tebet." This is mentioned also in the work Seder Ha'dorot (Rav Yehiel Heilprin, 1660-1746). The obvious question arises as to how to reconcile this theory with the Gemara, which indicates that Abraham died either in Nissan or in Tishri. The Hida (Rav Haim Yosef David Azulai, 1724-1806) answers this question by citing a Kabbalistic source about the unique nature of the month of Nissan. The Torah designates Nissan as the first month of the year, and according to the teachings of Kabbalah, this month contains within it an element of all other months. Each of the first days of Nissan corresponds to a different month of the year. Rosh Hodesh Nissan is associated with Nissan itself, whereas the 2 nd of Nissan is associated with Iyar, the 3 rd is connected to Sivan, the 4 th to Tammuz, and so on. Accordingly, the sources that say that Abraham died in Tebet could be understood to mean that he died on the day of Nissan – following Rabbi Yehoshua's opinion – corresponding to the month of Tebet. As Tebet is the tenth month, this would mean that Abraham Abinu died on the 10 th of Nissan. As we know, the 10 th of Nissan is a very significant date – as it was on this day when, just before the Exodus from Egypt, Beneh Yisrael prepared the sheep for the Pesach sacrifice which they offered on the afternoon of the 14 th of Nissan (Shemot 12:3) in preparation for their departure from Egypt. Now in the year of the Exodus, the 15 th of Nissan – the day Beneh Yisrael left Egypt – fell on Thursday, such that the 10 th of Nissan fell on Shabbat. It emerges, then, that Shabbat Ha'gadol marks the Yahrtzeit of Abraham Abinu. On this basis, it has been explained why this Shabbat is given the name "Shabbat Ha'gadol." A verse in the Book of Yehoshua (14:15) speaks of a great man – "Ha'adam Ha'gadol Ba'anakim" – who lived in Hebron, and our Sages teach that this refers to Abraham Abinu. As he is the "Ha'adam Ha'gadol," the Shabbat before Pesach, which commemorates his Yahrtzeit, is called "Shabbat Ha'gadol." Thu, 26 Mar 2026 00:01:11 GMT Rabbi Eli Mansour Rabbi Eli Mansour No Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Parasha, Parsha, Sedra, Chumash d76152a6-d1a1-fb32-98c5-a0ea7cb4f3da The Mishna in Pirkeh Abot (3:16) teaches: "The shop is open, the shopkeeper gives on credit, the ledger is open, the hand writes, and whoever wishes to borrow may come and borrow." Meaning, G-d invited us to come and enjoy the blessings of the world, "on credit," even before we deserve them, though with the expectation that repay our "debt" through the performance of Misvot. The Megaleh Amukot (Rav Natan Neta Spira, Poland, 1584-1633) offers a deeper explanation of the Mishna's teaching, noting that the word "Hanut" ("shop") may be read as an acrostic for "Hodesh Nissan Ve'hodesh Tishri" – "the month of Nissan and the month of Tishri." During these two months in particular we are invited to "borrow," to receive great blessings from the Almighty that we do not necessarily deserve. These two months – Tishri, when we observe the Yamim Noraim, and Nissan, when we observe Pesach – are especially auspicious times when we are able to turn to Hashem in sincere prayer and have our wishes fulfilled. This connection between the months of Nissan and Tishri is discussed also by Rav Baruch of Medzhybizh (1753–1811), in explaining a verse in Parashat Bo ( 13:5) regarding the Pesach sacrifice: "Ve'abateta Et Ha'aboda Ha'zot Ba'hodesh Ha'zeh" – "You shall perform this service in this month." Rav Baruch explains that the word "Zot" ("this") refers to Yom Kippur, when the Kohen Gadol would perform the special Aboda (service) in the Bet Ha'mikdash, which the Torah describes with the word "Zot": "Be'zot Yabo Aharon El Ha'kodesh" ("With this shall Aharon enter the Sanctuary" – Vayikra 16:3). The word "Zeh" (the masculine form of "Zot"), Rav Baruch says, refers to the month of Nissan, of which G-d declared, "Ha'hodesh Ha'zeh Lachem Rosh Hodashim" – "This month is for you the first of the months" (Shemot 12:2). Hence, when the Torah tells us, "Ve'abateta Et Ha'aboda Ha'zot Ba'hodesh Ha'zeh," it means that we should perform the service of "Ha'zot" – of Yom Kippur – during "Ha'hodesh Ha'zeh" – the month of Nissan. Just as the period of the High Holidays is a time for repentance and spiritual growth, so is the month of Nissan. Rav Baruch adds that the difference between the words "Zot" and "Zeh" shows us the difference between the Teshuba (repentance) of Tishri and the Teshuba of Nissan. In Kabbalistic teaching, the feminine form is associated with passivity and timidness, whereas the masculine form connotes assertiveness. Tishri is referred to with the feminine form, "Zot," because this is a time of fear and intimidation, when we repent because we are being judged. Nissan, however, is a time for "Teshuba Me'ahaba" – repentance out of love. This is a joyous, vigorous Teshuba, when we seek to grow out of a sense of excitement and enthusiasm, out of deep love for Hashem and a desire to draw closer to Him. The Abneh Nezer (Rav Avraham Borenstein of Sochatchov, Poland, 1838-1910) writes that the days of Nissan are especially precious, and every hour during this month is as valuable as an entire day in a different month. This is a month in which we can achieve greatness, and it behooves to take full advantage of this opportunity, and utilize our time during Nissan for intensive Torah learning, prayer, and spiritual growth. Thu, 19 Mar 2026 00:01:11 GMT Rabbi Eli Mansour Rabbi Eli Mansour No Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Parasha, Parsha, Sedra, Chumash 250f3e4c-f4ee-3dc2-00fa-c49e4ab60a0e After describing in great detail the construction of the Mishkan and its furnishings, the Torah tells: "All the work for the Mishkan…was completed; Beneh Yisrael did in accordance with all that G-d had commanded Moshe; so did they do" (39:32). Rav Moshe Alshich (Safed, 1508-1593) observes that the sequence in this verse seems difficult. We would have expected the Torah to first tell us that Beneh Yisrael followed G-d's commands and built the Mishkan as He had instructed, and to then state that "the work…was completed." Instead, the Torah first writes that the work was completed, and then tells that Beneh Yisrael did as G-d had commanded them. Rav Moshe Alshich answers this question by postulating that in truth, the Mishkan was built miraculously. Beneh Yisrael, he explains, did not have the capabilities needed to complete such a large, complex project. However, when a person exerts maximum effort into the performance of a Misva, he is credited with the Misva's fulfillment regardless of the outcome. As long as a person does his best, he is credited with completing the job, even if the job was not actually completed. In the case of the Mishkan, then, the people were credited with building the Mishkan even though it was, in the end, built on its own, by Hashem. Since they exerted maximum effort in this undertaking, they are considered as though they actually built it – even though it was built by Hashem. The Alshich thus explains that the Torah first tells us, "All the work…was completed" – on its own, through Hashem's supernatural intervention. Nevertheless, "Beneh Yisrael did in accordance with all that G-d had commanded" – the people were credited with the fulfillment of Hashem's command to construct a Mishkan. The Alshich notes that the Torah here says that the people did not "Kol Asher Siva Hashem" – "all that G-d had commanded," but rather "Ke'chol Asher Siva Hashem," which could be read as, "similar to all that G-d had commanded." They did not actually perform what Hashem told them to do, because this was beyond their capabilities. But they were regarded as though they did, because they invested the greatest effort that they could, and therefore, "Ken Asu" – "so did they do," meaning, they were credited with the completion of the Mishkan. This insight denies us the ability to tell ourselves, "Why bother?" or "There's no point in even trying." Too often, people find Torah study and observance difficult, and so they just give up. They feel that since they can't do everything right, and since they've failed so many times, there's no point in trying. This is not true. The Torah was given to each and every one of us, with all our flaws and all our limitations, and we are each meant to do the best we can. We are not always going to succeed. We are going to make mistakes. We won't always get it right. But this reality does not in any way absolve us of the obligation to do the best we can, to make an effort to "build" the "Mishkan" within our beings. There is no excuse to stop trying. And the more we try, the more divine assistance we receive, and the greater success Hashem will grant us in all our spiritual endeavors. Thu, 12 Mar 2026 00:01:11 GMT Rabbi Eli Mansour Rabbi Eli Mansour No Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Parasha, Parsha, Sedra, Chumash dcf93446-388c-8804-8a16-ab4f5fe1442d Hashem commands in Parashat Ki-Tisa, "Ach Et Shabetotai Tishmoru" – "However, you shall observe my Shabbatot" (31:13). Rashi explains that after Hashem presented the commands regarding the construction of the Mishkan, He emphasized that the work on the Mishkan must be discontinued on Shabbat. The question arises, however, as to why Hashem here commands observing "Shabetotai" – His "Shabbatot." Instead of simply telling us to observe "Shabbat," He uses the plural form, referring to Shabbat as "Shabbatot." Why? A fascinating explanation is offered by the Ha'ketab Ve'ha'kabbala (Rav Yaakov Tzvi Mecklenberg, 1785-1865). He writes that etymologically, the word "Shabbat" has two meanings. First, it denotes "Shebita" – cessation from work. Additionally, the word "Shabbat" refers to "Yishub Ha'da'at" – peace of mind, and clarity. Ha'ketab Ve'ha'kabbala explains that we are commanded to "observe Shabbat" in two senses: by refraining from Melacha (forbidden activity), and by attaining "Yishub Ha'da'at" by experiencing he special Kedusha of Shabbat. The first Shabbat is intended to bring us to the second; we are to refrain from forbidden work for the purpose of reprogramming our minds, resetting our priorities, and refreshing our perspective on life. Throughout the week, we are busy tending to our needs, occupied with our careers, our businesses, and all the many other important things that we need to deal with. With all the frenzy of the workweek, we can so easily forget what this is all about, what the purpose of all this is. On Shabbat, there is an obligation of "Shebita" – to desist from Melacha – so that we can achieve "Yishub Ha'da'at," peace of mind, a clearer perspective on what life is all about, what our priorities ought to be. We spend more time in the synagogue, more time with our families, more time singing Pizmonim and learning Torah, so we can refresh our minds and remind ourselves of what's truly important. On this basis, Ha'ketab Ve'ha'kabbala suggests a novel reading of the Gemara's famous teaching (Shabbat 118b) that if the Jewish People would properly observe "Sheteh Shabbatot" – two Shabbatot – we would be worthy of redemption. This is commonly understood to mean that we would be redeemed if we all observe Shabbat for two weeks. Ha'ketab Ve'ha'kabbala, however, offers a different interpretation, explaining that the Gemara speaks of the two different dimensions of Shabbat observance. We become worthy of redemption if we not only refrain from the forbidden activities on Shabbat, but also experience the weekly "reset," gaining a new perspective on life by redirecting our focus onto spirituality and the service of Hashem. This concept might also shed light on a different teaching in the Gemara – that whoever enjoys delights on Shabbat, "the desires of his hearts are granted to him." At first glance, this means that by enjoying fine foods and delicacies on Shabbat, one guarantees that all his wishes are fulfilled. We might, however, understand this passage differently. If we observe Shabbat properly, then "Notenin Lo Mish'alot Libo" – he is given new wishes, new desires. Proper observance of Shabbat gives us a new perspective, and resets our priorities. Thus, if during the week our primary aspirations were about wealth and material luxuries, on Shabbat our aspirations are spiritual. Shabbat refreshes our perspective such that our primary goals are a greater connection with Hashem, more Torah knowledge, more Misvot, more religious engagement. The ultimate purpose of Shabbat is not the cessation of work itself – but rather the renewed perspective that this brings, which leads us to reset our priorities and redirect our focus onto that which really matters. Thu, 05 Mar 2026 00:01:11 GMT Rabbi Eli Mansour Rabbi Eli Mansour No Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Parasha, Parsha, Sedra, Chumash 53433bf3-8ccc-fa78-8099-ab2fb5b50abc Numerous sources point to a connection between the celebration of Purim and the story of Yosef. For example, Rav Levi Yishak of Berditchev (1740-1809) taught that each of the twelve months corresponds to one of the twelve sons of Yaakob Abinu, and the month of Adar – the month when Purim is celebrated – corresponds to Yosef. And already the Gemara (Megilla 16a-b) draws an association between the Purim story and the story of Yosef, explaining that Yosef gave Binyamin five changes of clothing (Bereshit 45:22) as an allusion to Binyamin's descendant, Mordechai, who received five royal garments upon being appointed Ahashverosh's vizier (Ester 8:15). Another early source for this connection sheds light on one of the fundamental lessons of the Purim miracle. The Midrash comments that the Jews were deserving of annihilation because of the sin of Mechirat Yosef – the sale of Yosef as a slave by his brothers. Right after the brothers thew Yosef into a pit, they sat down to eat a meal ("Va'yeshbu Le'echol Lehem" – Bereshit 37:25). G-d responded very harshly, the Midrash states, warning that in the future, Haman and Ahashverosh would sit down together for a banquet immediately after condemning the Jews to death ("Ve'ha'melech Ve'Haman Yashebu Li'shtot" – Ester 3:15). Just as the brothers callously ate after acting to kill Yosef, so did Ahashverosh and Haman enjoy a feast after issuing the edict ordering the murder of all the Jews in the kingdom. It seems that the plague of jealousy and strife that led the brothers to eliminate Yosef was prevalent also during the time of the Purim story. Then, too, the Jews were not getting along with one another. They envied, resented, competed with and fought with one another, rather than working together in harmony despite their differences. This is why Ester, after hearing of Haman's edict, instructed Mordechai, "Lech Kenos Et Kol Ha'Yehudim" – to bring all the Jews together (Ester 4:16). She understood full well the reason for this harsh decree – the fraternal strife among the Jews. In order to earn salvation, the Jews would need to cure this ill through Ahdut, unity, by joining together with mutual love, respect and concern. This is also why Mordechai and Ester later established that the commemoration of the Purim miracle must include efforts to strengthen the bonds between Jews. The Misva of Mishloah Manot requires sending gifts, and the obligation of Matanot La'ebyonim requires lending assistance to the needy. Moreover, the Purim feast is traditionally eaten in large gatherings, with friends and families coming together in love and joy, thereby increasing the Ahdut among the Jewish People. The celebration of the Purim miracle must include a reenactment of "Lech Kenos Et Kol Ha'Yehudim" – of the Jews' efforts to create greater unity and a greater sense of togetherness. This might explain an otherwise perplexing aspect of the story of Yosef and his brothers. When the brothers arrived in Egypt with Binyamin, Yosef had a feast prepared for them, and the Torah tells, "Va'yishtu Va'yishkeru Imo" – Yosef and brothers drank and even became inebriated (43:34). Why was this an occasion for drinking? The answer might be found in the previous words – which tell that Yosef gave Binyamin five times the amount of food that he gave the other brothers. Despite this display of favoritism, the other brothers felt no jealousy toward Binyamin. They were not bothered by the fact that he received special treatment. Years earlier, they resented their father's preferential treatment toward Yosef, to the extent that they drove Yosef from the family, but they had now rectified this failing. They had reached the point where they felt no jealousy toward one another. This feast, then, laid the foundations for the story of Purim, when the Jews rectified the ill of baseless hatred and petty jealousy, resulting in their salvation which is celebrated through festive drinking. One of the central, overarching obligations on this day is to work to strengthen our Ahdut, the unity among the Jewish People. And our models for this process are Yosef's brothers, who learned from their mistake and grew to the point where they no longer harbored feelings of resentment and jealousy toward each other. We need to follow their example, and make the decision to look lovingly at our fellow Jews, to stop feeling jealous of those who seem to have more, to stop resenting those who do things differently than we do, to stop disliking people for silly reasons. Purim is the time to rise above the pettiness, the childishness and the competitiveness, to see the good in our fellow Jews instead of looking for reasons to look down at them. We will then be worthy of great miracles like those performed for our ancestors in Persia, Amen. Thu, 26 Feb 2026 00:01:11 GMT Rabbi Eli Mansour Rabbi Eli Mansour No Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Parasha, Parsha, Sedra, Chumash 4f93b10c-a6b7-af00-6dd3-05a008ef1e7b Parashat Teruma begins with G-d's command, "Ve'yikhu Li Teruma" – that Beneh Yisrael should donate materials toward the construction of the Mishkan. Surprisingly, Hashem here commands that the people donate toward this project with the word "Ve'yikhu," which means "They shall take." Instead of saying that the people should give, that they should donate, Hashem commands them to "take" a donation. This highlights a basic truism about charity – that by giving, we receive. When we give charity, when we donate toward a worthy cause, we receive far more than we give. We lose nothing, and we gain an incalculable amount. The merits earned through charitable donations are worth far more, and are infinitely more secure, than any financial asset. The rewards are both inestimable and guaranteed. But this understanding of the word "Ve'yikhu" actually runs even deeper. The Gemara in Masechet Kiddushin speaks of an exceptional case where a bride can be betrothed by giving, instead of receiving. The Halachic mechanism of Kiddushin, whereby a woman becomes formally betrothed to a man, requires the man to give the woman something of value. Of course, this is commonly done by giving the bride a ring. Normally, Kiddushin cannot be effectuated in the opposite manner, through the bride giving something to the groom. If the bride wishes to give the groom a gift, this must not be done as part of the Huppa ceremony, because it must be perfectly clear that the betrothal takes effect through the groom giving the ring to the bride. However, the Gemara establishes that if the groom is a distinguished person, such as a member of the royal court, then his bride can become betrothed to him through her giving him a gift. The reason, the Gemara explains, is that when an ordinary person gives a gift to a person of distinction, the giver derives great benefit by the recipient's acceptance of the gift. The satisfaction that comes from the distinguished person's consent to receive the gift outweighs the value of the gift. Therefore, if the groom is a man of distinction, the bride can become betrothed through the benefit she receives by the groom's acceptance of her gift, because by giving, the bride is actually receiving. This Halacha sheds new light on the command "Ve'yikhu Li Teruma." When we donate for a Misva purpose, we are, in essence, donating to Hashem, as it were. We are so-to-speak giving something to Hashem. Whether it's assisting a family in need, contributing to a charity fund, or supporting a synagogue of yeshiva, we are giving a gift to Hashem – who is, quite obviously, far more "distinguished" than any dignitary or prominent figure. And in this sense, we receive when we give. Anytime we have the opportunity to donate, we are given the privilege of giving a gift to Hashem. This is a privilege we should celebrate – and an opportunity that we should eagerly and enthusiastically seize as often as we can. Thu, 19 Feb 2026 00:01:11 GMT Rabbi Eli Mansour Rabbi Eli Mansour No Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Parasha, Parsha, Sedra, Chumash 42df3ace-9c8c-78ff-f03f-c38b004bf87e Parashat Mishpatim is well known for its presentation of a series of civil laws. These laws govern interpersonal relations, mainly matters related to conflicts over money or property. Speaking to Moshe, Hashem introduces this series of laws by saying, "Ve'eleh Ha'mishpatim Asher Tasim Lifnehem" – "And these are the statutes that you shall place before them." Rashi, citing the Gemara, comments that the word "Lifnehem" ("before them") implies "Lifnehem Ve'lo Lifneh Goyim" – these laws were to be presented specifically to Beneh Yisrael, and not to other peoples. Of course, we know that all the Torah's laws were given specifically to Beneh Yisrael, and not to the other nations. It seems that Rashi seeks to emphasize the fundamental difference between the Torah's system of civil law and that of the other nations. Although all civilized societies devise and implement an effective judicial system, there is something distinct about our system of law, and this is the implication of the word "Lifnehem" – that the special code of law presented in this Parasha is unique to the Jewish People. Among the unique features of the Torah legal system is the standardization and uniformity of its penal code. In other systems, the judge is authorized to determine the punishment for a convicted offender, and to take into account the offender's condition and the circumstances surrounding his crime. Thus, for example, if an impoverished man who had been out of work for years was caught stealing, the judge will issue a much lighter sentence than he would if a multimillionaire stole the same amount. When a person commits an offense, there might be mitigating circumstances that lessen its severity, or circumstances that make the act especially cruel. Most legal systems empower the judge to take all these factors into account when deciding the appropriate punishment. The Torah, however, establishes punishments that must be administered equally to all people convicted of the given crime. The financial condition of neither the perpetrator nor the victim affects the sentencing. The punishments assigned by the Torah for particular crimes are applied without considering the broader context of the act. The reason is that no human being can truly determine the severity of another person's behavior. Even if we know the background, the context, and the circumstances surrounding the incident, there is so much more that we do not know. We will never know what kind of pressures and lures contributed to an offender's decision to commit the act, nor can we know the full scope of a criminal's malicious intent. Only Hashem can determine the true extent of a crime, and the precise punishment that the offender deserves. For this reason, the verse says in Tehillim (82:1), "Elokim Nisav Ba'adat Kel, Be'kereb Elohim Yishpot" – Hashem is present in the courtroom when the judges try a case. Hashem is present because He is needed to determine what the judges are incapable of determining. The Torah establishes guidelines for the judges to follow, but we know that their decision will not necessarily result in the defendant receiving precisely what he deserves. Hashem's presence assures that He will make this happen, that He will do what the judges cannot do, that after the judges rule in accordance with Torah law, Hashem will see to it that justice is flawlessly and perfectly served. We must always remember how limited our vision and knowledge are, how little we know about other people. We might think we have the "whole story," but the truth is that we always know a very small part of the story. It is therefore foolish – not to mention unproductive – to cast judgment and reach conclusions about other people's conduct. This should be left to G-d, while we devote our attention to our own behavior, constantly striving to grow and improve. Thu, 12 Feb 2026 00:01:11 GMT Rabbi Eli Mansour Rabbi Eli Mansour No Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Parasha, Parsha, Sedra, Chumash 411a19c2-6bff-7999-43ec-fda4a16c6dfa The opening verses of Parashat Yitro tell of Yitro's arrival at Beneh Yisrael's camp. Yitro, Moshe's father-in-law, had been a pagan priest, but then recognized the truth of monotheism. He now took the next step, and joined Beneh Yisrael as they encamped at the foot of Mount Sinai. Rashi comments that Yitro was motivated to join the nation upon hearing of two events: Keri'at Yam Suf (the splitting of the sea), and the war against Amalek. It seems difficult to understand why the war with Amalek contributed to Yitro's decision. The splitting of the sea was, of course, an extraordinary miracle, an event that was heard throughout the ancient world and led all the nations to look at Beneh Yisrael with awe. It is understandable that this miracle inspired Yitro to come and join Beneh Yisrael. But how did the war against Amalek have this kind of effect? What about this event inspired Yitro? One answer is that Yitro was struck by the drastic decline that Beneh Yisrael experienced from the event of Keri'at Yan Suf to the war against Amalek. The Sages teach that at the time of Keri'a Yam Suf, every member of the nation, even the most unlearned among them, reached a certain level of prophecy. The nation at that moment rose to the greatest heights. Just several weeks later, however, when they found themselves without water, their faith was shaken, and they started asking, "Is G-d in our midst or not?" (Shemot 17:7). It was in response to this lack of faith that Hashem led Amalek to attack Beneh Yisrael. Yitro saw how the people so quickly fell from the stature of prophets to the point where they could actually question whether Hashem was with them. This rapid decline is what prompted Yitro to join Beneh Yisrael. The Gemara teaches that Torah is the "antidote" to the Yeser Ha'ra (evil inclination). Sinful tendencies are part of the human condition; as long as a person is alive, he is going to tempted by some lure, by some human weakness, by one or several of the many negative traits with which people are created. And in order to withstand these inclinations, we need to immerse ourselves in Torah. Therefore, when Yitro saw how fast people are capable of falling, he made the decision to join Beneh Yisrael, so he can access the Torah, the "antidote" to the Yeser Ha'ra and protect himself from spiritual decline. Rav Yosef Salant (Jerusalem, 1885-1981) offers a different explanation of Rashi's comment. He writes that after the miracle of the sea, many people throughout the world attributed this event to Moshe Rabbenu. Rather than recognize the existence of a single, omnipotent Creator, they instead concluded that Moshe was a superior sorcerer who succeeded in defeating the Egyptians through his magical prowess. Yitro, who was well-versed in all the various forms of ancient paganism, including sorcery, likewise suspected that it was Moshe who split the sea by lifting his staff over the water. Beneh Yisrael's miraculous victory against Amalek, however, was clearly not brought about by Moshe. At the time of the battle, Moshe stood at a distance, on a hill overlooking the battlefield. And when the people looked heavenward, they received Hashem's assistance and defeated the Amalekites. This event showed that the splitting of the sea was wrought not by Moshe, but by an all-powerful G-d, and this motivated Yitro to come join Beneh Yisrael. There might also be a third interpretation. In the Book of Debarim (25:18), Moshe describes Amalek's attack with the word "Karecha." The Sages explained this term as a derivative of the word "Kar" – "cool." After the miracle of the sea, Beneh Yisrael were feared throughout the world. The Rabbis drew a comparison to a tub filled with scalding hot water, that nobody dared touch. When Amalek launched their attack, they were like a person who jumped into the tub of boiling hot water – he suffered bad burns, but cooled the water for anyone else who wished to bathe afterward. Amalek was defeated, but this battle had the effect of "cooling" Beneh Yisrael, of exposing their vulnerability. Beneh Yisrael now appeared far less fearsome, and no longer seemed invincible. Yitro saw the grave Hillul Hashem – defamation of Hashem's Name – caused by Amalek's attack. The awe and admiration that the world felt toward Beneh Yisrael after the splitting of the sea were now gone. And Yitro understood that the only way to rectify a Hillul Hashem is by creating a Kiddush Hashem – a glorification of Hashem's Name. He therefore decided to join Beneh Yisrael. As a respected and wealthy public figure, his arrival would "make the news," and become widely known. People all over would hear that a prominent former pagan cleric had recognized the truth of the Jewish faith and decided to join Beneh Yisrael's ranks. This would repair, at least somewhat, the damage caused by Amalek's attack. And thus Yitro's decision was driven by these two events – the splitting of the sea and Amalek's attack, as he sought to restore the respect for Beneh Yisrael that was achieved by the miracle of Keri'at Yam Suf. Thu, 05 Feb 2026 00:01:11 GMT Rabbi Eli Mansour Rabbi Eli Mansour No Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Parasha, Parsha, Sedra, Chumash a691d467-50ff-d935-fc48-2e2d31b4baa6 REM-SS85-08 The Torah tells that as Beneh Yisrael stood at the shores of the sea, and they saw the Egyptian army pursuing them, they cried out to G-d – "Va'yis'aku Beneh Yisrael El Hashem" (14:10). Rashi comments: "Tafesu Umanut Abotam" – "They took hold of their forefathers' craft." Meaning, Beneh Yisrael here followed the example set for them by the patriarchs, who likewise prayed to G-d. Rashi then proceeds to cite verses from the Book of Bereshit showing that the three patriarchs – Abraham, Yishak and Yaakob – prayed. When reading Rashi's brief remark, we must wonder what point he wishes to make, which difficulty in the text he is trying to resolve. Why must we be informed that Beneh Yisrael's prayers at the shores of the sea followed the patriarchs' example? How does this enhance our understanding of the text? Probing a bit deeper, Rashi's comments become even more perplexing. As mentioned, Rashi cites verses that speak of the patriarchs praying. Surprisingly, however, Rashi specifically does not cite the more obvious sources of the patriarchs' prayers. Instead of pointing to Abraham's prayer on behalf of the city of Sedom, Rashi instead brings the verse that tells of Abraham returning the next day to the spot where he had prayed for Sedom (Bereshit 19:27). Instead of noting Yishak's prayer for a child, Rashi instead cites the Torah's vague description of Yishak "conversing" in the field (Bereshit 24:63), which the Sages interpret as a reference to prayer. And instead of mentioning Yaakob's plea for help when Esav was approaching with an army, Rashi brings the verse that tells of Yaakob's evening "encounter" ("Va'yifga" – 28:11), which is understood to mean that he prayed. Why did Rashi not cite the clearest references to the patriarchs' prayers? More generally, why did Rashi need to bring textual proof to the fact that our righteous Abot (patriarchs) prayed? Do we not already know this? The Lubavitcher Rebbe (Rav Menachem Mendel Schneerson, 1902-1994) answered all these questions by establishing that Beneh Yisrael's cries were not actual cries for help. We must remember that these events transpired after G-d had brought the powerful Egyptian Empire to its knees with ten miraculous plagues, after Moshe had informed the people that G-d was bringing them to their homeland, and after they had taken the Egyptians' possessions with them to bring to the Holy Land. They knew that G-d would help them and save them from the pursuing Egyptian army. They did not have a doubt. (Although the Torah relates that the people turned to Moshe in panic, asking why he had taken them out of Egypt to perish, Rashi explains that this was a different group than the group who responded by praying.) They had complete faith in G-d. This was the point that Rashi wished to clarify – that the people prayed even though they were confident that they would be saved. These prayers were not a prayer for help, for rather "Umanut Abotam" – the "craft" taught to them by their forebears. A person with a profession goes to work every day. He doesn't show up only when he runs out of money; he knows that he needs to tend to his profession consistently. The same is true of our connection to Hashem. We cannot build this connection only by turning to him when we face some kind of problem. We need to practice the "craft," or "profession," of prayer each and every day, even when we have no particular, pressing issue that concerns us. This is what Rashi is teaching us. Beneh Yisrael turned to Hashem in prayer not because they were frightened, but rather because prayer was an "Umanut" – a "profession," something that they knew they must consistently do. And they learned this "profession" from the patriarchs. Abraham prayed even after Sedom was destroyed, when he could no longer save the city. Yishak prayed in the field regularly. And Yaakob prayed before going to sleep. These weren't prayers for help, but rather part of the Abot's ongoing, persistent efforts to build their relationship with Hashem. This is the "profession" that they taught us, and that we must follow. The Lubavitcher Rebbe applied this idea to the Misva of Torah study. This obligation is not limited to practical knowledge. It goes without saying that in order to practice Judaism properly, we must learn and familiarize ourselves with Halacha, and practical Halacha must certainly take priority in our Torah curricula. However, this is not the sole objective of Torah study. We are required to learn as much as we can even about subjects that are not practically applicable. Torah learning is not only about knowledge, but also about our connection to Hashem who gave us the Torah. When we pray and learn Torah not only in moments of need, but with constancy and devotion, we cultivate a living, daily bond with Hashem – and this is the lifelong, sacred "profession" which we've inherited from our righteous forebears. Thu, 29 Jan 2026 00:01:11 GMT Rabbi Eli Mansour Rabbi Eli Mansour No Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Parasha, Parsha, Sedra, Chumash 3201d896-4b22-9537-0caf-ef9886c71c61 The Torah in Parashat Bo (12:40) states that Beneh Yisrael spent a total of 430 years in Egypt. Already Rashi notes the seeming contradiction between this verse and G-d's prophecy to Abraham Abinu that his descendants would endure a 400-year period of exile and oppression (Bereshit 15:13). Why did G-d predict a period of 400 years, if Beneh Yisrael were going to spend 430 years in exile? Rashi explains that the number depends on the starting point. The period from the birth of Yishak until the Exodus was 400 years, but Abraham received this prophecy thirty years prior to Yishak's birth, for a total of 430 years. The Shela Ha'kadosh (Rav Yeshaya Horowitz, d. 1630) offered a different answer, boldly asserting that G-d added thirty years to the period of exile. G-d informed Abraham that his descendants would live as foreigners for 400 years – but as a result of Mechirat Yosef, the sale of Yosef as a slave by his brothers, thirty years were added. The Shela explains that Yosef was brought out of the dungeon in Egypt and appointed the country's vizier at the age of thirty (Bereshit 41:46). In a sense, then, his first thirty years were stolen from him because of his brothers' cruelty. Therefore, it was decreed that Beneh Yisrael would endure an additional thirty years of oppression. The Shela's theory sheds light on the Gemara's comments in Masechet Sanhedrin (92) regarding the mistake made by the tribe of Efrayim. The Gemara says about the people of Efrayim, "Manu Le'ketz Ve'ta'u" – they miscalculated the end of the Egyptian exile. When they erroneously thought that the time for redemption had arrived, they left Egypt. But when they reached the Philistine region of Gat, they were attacked by the Philistines, and many were killed, while some managed to escape back to Egypt. The Gemara says that the remains of those people from Efrayim were the "dry bones" that were miraculously brought back to life in Yehezkel's famous prophecy. On the basis of the Shela's analysis, we can understand more clearly why the tribe of Efrayim made this mistake. If, indeed, an extra thirty years were added on account of the sin of Mechirat Yosef, then it stands to reason that the tribe of Efrayim – who descended from Yosef – assumed that they did not need to wait the additional thirty years. Since this period was a punishment for the crime committed against Yosef, they figured, it did not affect them, the descendants of Yosef. They therefore left Egypt thirty years early, at the end of the period of exile that was initially decreed. The question then becomes, why were the people of Efrayim wrong? Why were they killed for leaving Egypt early? The answer emerges from a passage in the Zohar regarding another consequence of Mechirat Yosef. Each year, on Tisha B'Ab, we recite a special Kinna (dirge) about the "Asara Harugeh Malchut" – the ten great Rabbis who were brutally murdered by the Romans. The Zohar teaches that these great Rabbis were Gilgulim (reincarnations) of the brothers, and they were killed to atone for the sin of Mechirat Yosef. Now in truth, only nine of the twelve brothers participated in Mechirat Yosef: Yosef, of course, was the victim; Binyamin, the youngest, was home and not involved; and Reuben was not present when the other brothers decided to sell Yosef, and in fact tried to rescue him. Why, then, were ten Rabbis killed to atone for the sin committed by only nine brothers? The answer is that Yosef himself bore a degree of guilt. While his brothers of course acted wrongly by selling him as a slave, he was partially responsible for their hostility. He reported to Yaakob about their alleged wrongdoing, and provoked them, arousing their hatred. Therefore, he, too, was accountable. This, then, was the tribe of Efrayim's mistake. The additional thirty years were decreed also for them, the descendants of Yosef, because he was partially responsible for what happened. Their decision to leave Egypt was thus a mistake, as they, too, were required to spend an additional thirty years in Egypt. Thu, 22 Jan 2026 00:01:11 GMT Rabbi Eli Mansour Rabbi Eli Mansour No Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Parasha, Parsha, Sedra, Chumash b96e3389-69cc-d06f-dca5-b73434e2e40f The Torah in Parashat Vaera traces the lineage of Moshe Rabbenu, informing us that he was son of Amram and Yochebed. Amram was a grandson of Yakaob Abinu's third son, Levi – specifically, he was the son of Levi's son, Kehat. Astonishingly, the Torah relates, Yochebed was Amram's aunt – she was the daughter of Levi, the sister of Kehat. The commentaries explain that Yochebed and Kehat had different mothers, and thus they were half-siblings. As such, the marriage between Amram and Yochebed was not forbidden by the Noachide laws, which apply to all mankind. These laws forbid marrying one's parent's full sister, but not a parent's half-sister. This union would, however, be proscribed by the Torah given to Beneh Yisrael. It turns out, then, that Moshe – the greatest leader and prophet in our nation's history, who brought us the Torah – was the product of a marriage that Torah law forbids. Moshe is not the only great leader with less-than-pristine origins. The Davidic line, which began with David and Shlomo and will – we pray very soon – culminate with Mashiah, also has its origins in problematic relationships. David descended from Peretz – the product of the relationship between Yehuda and his daughter-in-law, Tamar. David's great-grandmother was Rut, a convert from the nation of Moab, and although it was ultimately concluded that this marriage was permissible, there was considerable controversy as to whether a man may marry a woman from Moab. And the founder of the nation of Moab, Rut's ancestor, was conceived when Lot's daughter gave her father wine and had a relationship with him, thinking they this was needed in order to maintain the earth's population. Rav Menahem Recanti (Italy, 1223-1290) offers an explanation for this phenomenon, for why the great leaders emerged from less-than-ideal origins. The Satan, he writes, is always seeking to sabotage the rise of these righteous figures, to block these holy souls from descending into the world. Moshe brought us the Torah, which is the "antidote" to the Yeser Ha'ra (evil inclination), the greatest weapon we have in our struggle to overcome the Satan's efforts to lure us away from the service of G-d. And the Gemara teaches that when Mashiah arrives, he will destroy the Satan so it could no longer hurt the Jewish People. Therefore, the Satan will do everything in its power to obstruct the transmission of Torah, and to prevent the arrival of Mashiah. For this reason, Hashem arranged that Moshe and David would be produced from unions that the Satan would never bother to disrupt. The Satan welcomes problematic relationships such as those of Lot and his daughters, Yehuda and Tamar, and Amram and Yochebed. He would never try to interfere with them, because this is precisely what he wants – relationships that are from the Torah's ideal marriage. Moshe and David needed to be produced this way for the purpose of avoiding the Satan's interference. This reminds us never to be discouraged by the challenges that we face in the pursuit of greatness. Whenever we try to achieve something significant, we are going to confront obstacles. Whether it's in the process of finding a spouse and raising a family, the process of learning Torah and spiritual growth, starting a new organization or project – the Satan is always going to try to interfere. Rather than be surprised and discouraged by the problems that arise, we should expect them, stay strong, and proceed with confidence, trusting that Hashem is always helping us in our efforts to defeat the Satan and achieve to the very best of our ability. Thu, 15 Jan 2026 00:01:11 GMT Rabbi Eli Mansour Rabbi Eli Mansour No Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Parasha, Parsha, Sedra, Chumash 83fe34f1-97f3-6260-0bd7-4279c73552c2 Parashat Shemot tells about the enslavement of Beneh Yisrael in Egypt, a policy enacted by the king about whom the Torah writes: "A new king arose in Egypt, who did not know Yosef" (1:8). Rashi brings a debate among the Amoraim regarding this verse. One view accepts the simple meaning, that a new king came to power. According to the other view, however, this Pharaoh who decided to persecute Beneh Yisrael was the same king who ruled Egypt previously, but he is called "new" because "Nit'hadeshu Gezerotav" – he issued new decrees. This second opinion cited by Rashi requires some explanation. The phrase "Nit'hadeshu Gezerotav" does not actually denote "new" decrees. Its precise translation is "his decrees were renewed." There is, of course, a significant difference between a "new" decree and a "renewed" decree. A "new" decree is one which never existed before, whereas a "renewed decree" is a policy that was once in place and is now restored. We must ask, then, which old policy did Pharaoh "renew" in Egypt? Rav Yosef Salant (Jerusalem, 1885-1981), in his Be'er Yosef, answers this question by examining Onkelos' translation of this verse, which concludes: "De'la Mekayem Gezerat Yosef" – "who did not uphold Yosef's decree." According to Onkelos, Pharaoh annulled the policy that Yosef had put into place. This likely refers to the measures Yosef had enacted in order to feed the population of Egypt during the famine. As we read toward the end of Parashat Vayigash, once the famine struck, Yosef began selling the vast quantities of grain that had been stored during the seven years of surplus. At first, he sold grain to the people in exchange for money, and then, after they had spent all their money, he sold them grain in exchange for their animals and their land. Eventually, the people were left with nothing with which to purchase grain. Yosef therefore turned the entire population into Pharaoh's servants, giving them land to till, in exchange for which they gave Pharaoh a percentage of their crops. The Torah writes that the Egyptians were happy with this arrangement, as it ensured their survival during the devastating famine that ravaged the country. Many years later, Rav Salant explains, Pharaoh changed this policy and brought back the conditions that had been in place before Yosef came along. And thus he "renewed" the old decrees. Rav Salant writes that once the famine ended, Pharaoh used the arrangement established by Yosef as a means of provoking resentment and hostility toward Beneh Yisrael. As politicians often do, Pharaoh sought to win the people's support by convincing them that they were victims of an evil scheme from which he would heroically rescue them. He thus charged that Beneh Yisrael – who were living comfortably in the Goshen region – were responsible for the Egyptian people's lack of freedom, for their status as Pharaoh's servants, because it was Yosef who enacted this policy. And thus the arrangement that saved Egypt from widespread starvation was turned into an evil, malicious scheme to subjugate the people. The Egyptians who were previously grateful for this arrangement now resented it, blaming Yosef – and, by extension, all Beneh Yisrael – for the injustice that they were told they now experienced. One contemporary Rabbi added that this might shed light on Rav Yosef's comment in the Gemara (Pesahim 68b) expressing the great importance of the holiday of Shabuot. Rav Yosef remarked that if not for the event of Matan Torah, which is celebrated on Shabuot, "Kama Yosef Ika Be'shuka" – "There are several 'Yosef's' in the marketplace. Meaning, it is only because of the Torah that Rav Yosef was able to achieve and to distinguish himself through his outstanding scholarship. On a deeper level, however, Rav Yosef was perhaps lamenting the fact that the phenomenon of Yosef, of a Jew who was unfairly maligned and scapegoated after having helped and contributed to a country – has recurred many times. There are, unfortunately, many examples of "Yosef," occasions when Jews were viewed with suspicion and treated with hostility despite their having been hard-working, law-abiding, contributing members of society. This observation is, on the one hand, sobering, but on the other hand, it should give us hope and encouragement at this time of rising antisemitism. This phenomenon is upsetting, but not new. It has happened before – and, each time, we've prevailed. Hashem has always helped us in the past, and he will help us now, as well. We will continue to proudly carry the legacy of Yosef Ha'sadik, passionately adhering to our values and traditions while contributing to the society around us, and placing our trust in Hashem at all times. Thu, 08 Jan 2026 00:01:11 GMT Rabbi Eli Mansour Rabbi Eli Mansour No Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Parasha, Parsha, Sedra, Chumash cc85546e-24ee-14c9-4f66-6600f3ff418b Rashi opens his commentary to Parashat Vayehi with an observation about the "formatting" of this text in the Torah scroll. He notes that the text of Parashat Vayehi begins immediately after the text of the previous Parasha, with no space in between. Normally, the Torah indicates the beginning of a new section with empty space. Sometimes a new section begins on the next line ("Parasha Petuha"), and sometimes a new section begins nine empty spaces (meaning, the space needed to write nine letters) after the end of the previous section ("Parasha Setuma"). Parashat Vayehi, however, begins with no empty space at all separating it from the previous Parasha, appearing as though this is not actually a new Parasha at all. We know that the division of the Torah into Parashiyot was established by Ezra based on an oral tradition. The question thus arises as to why Parashat Vayehi is written immediately after the previous Parasha, without any empty space to indicate that a new Parasha begins. Rashi explains that this "closed" formatting symbolizes the fact that "once Yaakob died, the eyes and hearts of Israel were 'closed' from the distress of bondage, as they [the Egyptians] began to enslave them." The "closed" Parasha expresses the "closing" that occurred due to the slavery that began to unfold after Yaakob Abinu's passing, which the Torah tells about in this Parasha. We must ask, what exactly does Rashi mean when he speaks of the people's eyes and hearts "closing"? Additionally, tradition teaches that the Egyptians did not enslave Beneh Yisrael until all of Yaakob's sons passed away. As long as even one of the Yaakob's sons was alive, the period of slavery did not begin. How, then, can Rashi say that the Egyptians began enslaving Beneh Yisrael after Yaakob Abinu's death? One explanation I saw is that Rashi refers not to the bondage itself, but rather to the early warning signs. Even before Beneh Yisrael were enslaved, there were indications of hostility toward them. Unfortunately, the people's "eyes and hearts" were "closed," they were blinded, and failed to see what was happening before to was too late. When we learn Jewish history, and hear about the tragically numerous incidents of persecution that our nation has suffered, we often find ourselves wondering why the Jews did not just leave, why they did not see the proverbial "writing on the wall" ahead of time and escape before it was too late. The answer is found in Rashi's comments. The Jews' eyes were often closed, unable – or unwilling – to objectively assess the situation, to see where developments were leading. They dismissed hostility as a limited phenomenon, the attitudes of a negligible fringe element. Or, they would see it as a passing phase that would soon end. If a discriminatory law was passed, or a discriminatory policy decision was made, the Jews would assure themselves that it could be repealed, that a different politician will soon come in and implement a different policy, or that they would just lobby government officials. Rashi is telling us that our ancestors in Egypt made this same mistake. Their eyes and minds were "closed," unable to see what was really happening. We must always keep our eyes and minds open, and honestly acknowledge what is happening even when these truths are uncomfortable. And we must never delude ourselves into assuming that the kind of hostility that our nation has experienced in other countries cannot surface here, too. As we continue hoping and praying to Hashem to protect us wherever we are, we must, at the same time, keep our hand on the pulse of the society in which we live and keep our eyes open to potential threats to our future. Thu, 01 Jan 2026 00:01:11 GMT Rabbi Eli Mansour Rabbi Eli Mansour No Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Parasha, Parsha, Sedra, Chumash b910956d-2ad7-e31d-ac75-df40a6d14494 The Torah in Parashat Vayigash lists the names of the members of Yaakob Abinu's family who moved with him from Canaan to Egypt. These include his granddaughter, Serah, the daughter of Asher (46:17). Targum Yonatan Ben Uziel tells us something fascinating about Serah – she was one of the very few people in world history who never died, and instead went into Gan Eden alive. Serah received this special reward because she was the one who informed Yaakob Abinu that Yosef was still alive. Yaakob had mourned and grieved for twenty-two years, thinking that Yosef, his beloved son, was devoured by an animal. When Yosef's brothers returned from Egypt with the news that Yosef was actually alive, and had risen to the position of vizier of Egypt, they were unsure how to communicate this information to Yaakob. He was an elderly, shattered man, and they needed to share with him this news in a gentle, delicate manner that wouldn't cause him shock. They turned to Serah, Asher's daughter, who was a talented musician. She took an instrument and sang beautifully to Yaakob the words that Yosef was alive. In reward for this act, Serah earned eternal life. It is not difficult to see the principle of "Midda Ke'negged Midda" – how actions are repaid "measure for measure" – at work in this story. Serah effectively restored Yaakb Abinu's soul, bringing him back to life. Throughout the twenty-two years of mourning, Yaakob was lifeless – without joy, without vitality. Serah restored Yaakob's life – and so she was rewarded with eternal life. The Zohar teaches that anytime a person shares good news with somebody, the spirit of Eliyahu Ha'nabi enters his being. Eliyahu is the one who will inform us of Mashiah's imminent arrival. In fact, Ashkenazim have the practice of adding a brief prayer to Birkat Ha'mazon asking Hashem to send us Eliyahu Ha'nabi "so that he will bring us good news, salvations and consolations." Eliyahu is the ultimate bearer of good tidings – and he is the most famous person who never died, who lives eternally, who went straight into Gan Eden without experiencing death. By sharing good news with people, we attain an element of Eliyahu Ha'nabi's eternal quality. When we tell good news, we make people happier, we revitalize them, we encourage them, we bring them more "liveliness." We are thus worthy of eternity. I recall that after my first child was born, I went from the hospital to a job I had at the time tutoring a young man in preparation for his Bar-Misva. When I came in, his mother said hello and asked how I was doing. I said I was fine, without informing her that my wife delivered a baby boy. I felt I would come across as self-absorbed by telling her about the birth. Later, the father came in and said hello, and once again I just responded to the greeting without informing him about the birth of my son. Not long after I left, both parents heard that my wife had given birth to a boy. They both called me and asked in bewilderment why I hadn't said anything about it. I acted incorrectly that day. I didn't realize at that time how important it is to share good news, as much and as often as possible. People love hearing good news. It gets them excited, it injects them with optimism and encouragement. It gives them a better feeling about the world. It reminds them that beautiful things are happening all around them, that Hashem does so many wonderful things. Sharing good news has the effect of lifting people's spirits and energizing them. This is especially important in today's day and age. The device we carry in our pocket is constantly bringing us bad news. We are greeted all day by distressing news, by all that is wrong in the world. The news feeds never tell us about couples getting engaged and married, about people working hard, accomplishing, and earning a respectable livelihood, about happy families enjoying dinner or an outing, about people doing Misvot and learning Torah. This is not reported as news because it's uninteresting. News feeds instead tell us as much negative information as it can – crime, corruption, ugly politics, "juicy" gossip about public personalities and celebrities, etc. Every piece of news we consume makes the world seem darker. The cumulative effect of news consumption is chronic negativity, and even anxiety, as we feel that everything about the world is wrong. The antidote to this gloom is positivity. We should be making a point of being as positive and upbeat as possible. We should be seizing every opportunity we have to share happy news, to point out the good things that are happening, to compliment, to praise, to express admiration and gratitude. There is more than enough negativity in our lives – and we must therefore avoid adding further negativity. Instead, let's spread positivity, talking as much as we can about all the good we see around us. Thu, 25 Dec 2025 00:01:11 GMT Rabbi Eli Mansour Rabbi Eli Mansour No Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Parasha, Parsha, Sedra, Chumash 96a6d711-d5d2-ebd1-7e9e-51111464b769 Parashat Miketz begins with the famous story of Yosef being brought from the Egyptian prison to interpret Pharaoh's unusual dreams. Yosef informed Pharoh that his visions of seven lean cows devouring seven large cows, and seven lean sheaves devouring seven large sheaves, foretold a seven-year period of agricultural surplus that would be immediately followed by seven years of harsh famine. After explaining the meaning of Pharaoh's dreams, Yosef proceeded to urge the king to appoint somebody to oversee the storage of grain during the next seven years to prepare for the drought years which would follow. Pharaoh promptly assigned Yosef to this role. Yosef adds a curious phrase in his remarks to Pharaoh, one which is often overlooked. In urging the king to set up a mechanism for the storage of grain, Yosef says, "Ya'aseh Pharaoh Ve'yafked Pekidim Al Ha'aretz" – "Pharaoh shall act and appoint officers over the land" (41:34). Yosef does not just advise Pharaoh to appoint officials – he says, "Ya'aseh Pharaoh," that "Pharaoh shall act." What is meant by these words? Why did Yosef emphasize that Pharaoh should "act"? Some suggest that Yosef here expressed a fundamental principle of leadership and education – the importance of setting a personal example. Yosef anticipated that there would be opposition among the Egyptian population to his plan to store large amounts of grain. During years of economic prosperity, few people have the foresight to consider the possibility of a shortage down the road. It would be hard for the Egyptians to envision a devastating famine while they were busy harvesting unprecedentedly large amounts of produce. They would not be so quick to put the surplus grain into storage to prepare for something that the government claimed would happen years later. They would need some convincing. This is why Yosef said, "Ya'aseh Pharaoh." The best way for Pharoah to convince the people to store grain was for him to set an example. Before he could appoint officials to enforce a policy of storage, he would have to "act" – he would need to show the people that he, too, was storing his surplus, that he was not overindulging during the years of prosperity. This was critical for the success of this plan. We might add that Yosef learned this concept from his father, Yaakob. At the end of Parashat Vayeseh, we read that Yaakov made a pact with his father-in-law, Laban, and as a formal symbol of their agreement they made a special pile of stones. The Torah tells that Yaakob turned to his sons and instructed them to collect stones to make this large pile ("Liktu Abanim" – 31:46). Despite the grueling labor involved, his sons immediately obeyed, without any protest. The likely reason is because in the preceding verse, we read that Yaakob himself lifted a large stone and erected it as a monument. Before asking his sons to participate in this process, Yaakob first acted himself. He first set an example for his children, and they were then far more receptive to his request that they join. Parents, educators, and anyone looking to have an impact must realize this truism about influence. A person is not likely to inspire others by sitting comfortably and trying to convince them to act. If we want to influence and inspire, we need to act, to set an example, to model the behavior. It is only if our words are accompanied by a personal example that we can hope for them to have an impact. Thu, 18 Dec 2025 00:01:11 GMT Rabbi Eli Mansour Rabbi Eli Mansour No Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Parasha, Parsha, Sedra, Chumash 3b16757b-3680-4f4f-7e6d-5087f092f5ae The opening verse of Parashat Vayesheb introduces the story of Yosef by saying, "Vayesheb Yaakob Be'eretz Megureh Abib, Be'eretz Kena'an" – "Yaakob dwelled in the land when his father had lived, in the land of Canaan." The question arises as to why the Torah found it necessary to inform us that Yaakob lived in the Land of Israel (known then as Canaan). While it is true that Yaakob had spent twenty years outside the land, with his uncle in Haran, we already read in last week's Parasha, Parashat Vayishlah, of Yaakob's return to the Land of Israel, and of his experiences there. Why, then, do we need to be told again that he lived in Canaan? Moreover, we must ask why the Torah emphasizes here that this is the land where Yaakob's father, Yishak, had lived. We are well aware of the fact that Yishak had lived in Israel, and we know that even when famine struck the land, and he began journeying toward Egypt – just as his father, Abraham Abinu, had done in a time of famine – G-d appeared to him and commanded him to remain in the land and not to go to Egypt (Bereshit 26:2-3). Why, then, does the Torah find it necessary to mention that the Land of Israel was "Eretz Megureh Abib" – the land where Yishak had lived? The Ramban answers these questions by explaining that the word "Megureh" stems from the word "Ger" – "foreigner." The Torah isn't telling us that Yaakob lived in Canaan – but rather that he lived as a "Ger," as a foreigner, under the rule of the Canaanite tribes, just as his father had. This reality fulfilled G-d's prophecy to Abraham Abinu that his descendants would live as foreigners, in a land governed by others – "Ki Ger Yiheyeh Zar'acha Ba'aretz Lo Lahem" (Bereshit 15:13). Abraham's descendants would live as foreigners for 210 years in Egypt – but this prophecy actually began immediately with the birth of Yishak, who lived as a foreigner in the land of Canaan, as Yaakob did, until going to Egypt at the very end of his life. The reason this is emphasized here, the Ramban explains, is for the sake of contrasting Yaakob with his brother, Esav. The previous section – the end of Parashat Vayishlah – elaborates at great length on Esav's progeny, how he settled in the region of Edom and established there a large empire. Esav enjoyed all the comforts of freedom and sovereignty, establishing a kingdom swiftly and easily. Yaakob, meanwhile, remained in his homeland, in the Land of Israel, where he lived as a foreigner. It would be centuries later that Yaakob's descendants, Beneh Yisrael, would – after many difficult battles – establish their kingdom in their homeland. The Ramban writes that the Torah mentions this "to tell that they [Yishak and Yaakob] chose to live in the chosen land, and that through them [the prophecy of] 'for your offspring shall be foreigners in a land not theirs' was fulfilled." As opposed to Esav, Yaakob – like his father – preferred living in the Promised Land, in the sacred Land of Israel, even under less-than-ideal conditions, rather than enjoy the comforts and conveniences that were available elsewhere. Yaakob chose a life of meaning and purpose over a life of comfort and convenience. He understood that we are brought here to this world to live meaningfully, to pursue meaningful goals and achievements, and not to enjoy vain pleasures. And so he preferred basking in the sanctity of the Land of Israel over an easier life elsewhere. Life as a Torah Jew isn't always easy – because the goal is to live with meaning and purpose, which takes hard work and sacrifice. We, the descendants of Yaakob Abinu, must follow his example of choosing a life of Kedusha and purpose over a life of comfort and convenience. Thu, 11 Dec 2025 00:01:11 GMT Rabbi Eli Mansour Rabbi Eli Mansour No Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Parasha, Parsha, Sedra, Chumash 28e9f5b2-f2da-4283-4ea5-3dce227f2e16 When Yaakob heard that his brother, Esav, was approaching with a militia of 400 men, he offered an impassioned prayer to G-d, begging for help. He cried, "Hasileni Na Mi'yad Ahi Mi'yad Esav" – "Save me, please, from my brother, from Esav" (32:12). A famous insight into this verse was offered by the Bet Ha'levi (Rav Yosef Dov Soloveitchik of Brisk, 1820-1892), one which is worth our while to review and ponder. The Bet Ha'levi noted that Yaakob asked G-d to protect him from both "Esav" and from "my brother." Of course, these seem to be one and the same. But the Bet Ha'levi explains that this refers to two different threats that Yaakob feared. The first and more obvious threat was that posed by "Esav" – the violent, evil man who hated Yaakob for having taken his blessing, and sought to kill him. Esav's hostility and violent character posed a clear and present danger. But Yaakob also feared the opposite prospect – that Esav would come as "my brother," with love and affection. This, too, presented a danger, albeit a much different form of danger – a spiritual danger. When the gentile nations treat us as "brothers," inviting us to closely interact with them, we risk becoming like them, of exchanging our traditional beliefs, values and practices for their culture. Whereas "Esav" threatens our physical existence, "my brother" threatens our spiritual existence. The Gemara tells that King Ahashverosh despised the Jews no less than Haman. When Haman presented to the king his idea to annihilate the Jews, and offered to pay for it, Ahashverosh responded that to the contrary, he would pay Haman to do this, because he wanted the Jews killed. The Gemara draws an analogy to a person with a large mound of dirt on his property which he wanted to get rid of, and he is approached by another person who has a large hole on his property which he wished to fill. The person with the hole in the ground offers to pay the other person for his mound of dirt – but the one with the mound of dirt is prepared to pay him to remove it. Likewise, Haman was willing to pay Ahashverosh to annihilate the Jews, but Ahashverosh was prepared to pay Haman to get rid of them. But when we read the Megilla, we do not get the impression that Ahashverosh disliked the Jews. To the contrary, he invited them to his feast, and they happily participated. In truth, however, this was no less sinister a plot than Haman's plan to murder the Jews. Haman approached the Jewish People as "Esav," whereas Ahashverosh approached them as "my brother," inviting them to assimilate and embrace the Persian culture, values and lifestyle. Returning to the story of Yaakob and Esav, the Torah tells that when they finally reunited, Esav embraced Yaakob and kissed him. However, one view in the Midrash, as Rashi (33:4) cites, explains that Esav first tried to bite Yaakob's neck. Hashem performed a miracle, making Yaakob's neck hard as marble, such that Esav's teeth could not penetrate it. Esav then kissed him. He at first tried to hurt Yaakov with hostility and violence, and when this failed, he resorted to the tactic of "my brother," by showing love and affection, hoping to lure Yaakob away from his beliefs and values. We must stand guard against both dangers. In a time of growing antisemitism, we must of course remain vigilant and take appropriate measures to protect ourselves. No less importantly, however, we must protect ourselves from the lure of assimilation. The United States offers us freedom and equality, treating us no differently than any other group in this country. This is, undoubtedly, a wonderful blessing for which we must be grateful, as it has allowed us to build communities such as ours and practice our religion without fear. At the same time, however, the freedoms have wrought a spiritual catastrophe, pulling a frighteningly high percentage of Jews away from their heritage. The American Jew's freedom to fully participate in American culture and society entices him to abandon his traditions in favor of the values and lifestyle of the people around us, and too many have fallen prey to this temptation. We need to ensure that our enjoyment of the wonderful freedoms granted us by this country does not result in our rejection of our traditions. And we do this through our community institutions, through our schools, synagogues, yeshivot and programs, which help solidify our identity as Torah Jews, an identity that we continue to wear with pride and conviction even as we participate in and interact with the general society. Thu, 04 Dec 2025 00:01:11 GMT Rabbi Eli Mansour Rabbi Eli Mansour No Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Parasha, Parsha, Sedra, Chumash 671cc308-f862-74b0-0251-7a986e6a003f When Yaakov arrived at the outskirts of Haran, he saw local shepherds with their herds near the well outside the city. He asked them why they weren't giving their sheep water. The shepherds explained that they could not remove the large, heavy stone from the top of the well. They needed to wait for all the shepherds to assemble at the well so they could together roll the stone off the well. Yaakob then proceeded to the well and, by himself, pushed the stone off so the shepherds could draw water for their flocks. Rashi comments that this episode shows us that Yaakob possessed unique physical strength. We must ask, for what purpose did the Torah tells us about Yaakob Abinu's exceptional strength? What lesson are we to learn from this story? Every person, without any exceptions, has spiritual struggles. And no two people's struggles are the same. Misvot which come easily for one person is a difficult challenge for somebody else. Some people struggle to observe Kashrut, others have a hard time with Shabbat. There are those who have difficulty praying properly, and there are those who find it challenging to observe the Torah's standards of Seniut (modesty). But everyone is struggling with something. This is true even of the great Sadikim. King Shlomo teaches us in Mishleh (24:16), "Ki Sheba Yipol Sadik Ve'kam" – "For a righteous person falls seven times and gets up." Even the righteous fall – and they fall repeatedly. The difference between a righteous person and others is "Ve'kam" – that a Sadik "gets up" each and every time he falls. The wicked person, at a certain point, gives up. He decides not to bother struggling, figuring that it's just too hard for him. An example of this kind of person is Esav, about whom the Torah says, "Ve'hu Ayef" – "and he was tired" (25:29). Esav had the potential for greatness. He was no less capable of being a Sadik than Yaakob was. But he grew "tired" – he decided not to try. The Sadik doesn't get tired. He falls, often, but he keeps getting back up. How does the Sadik do this? What motivates him to keep trying, even after falling multiple times? The answer is found in one of the Birchot Ha'shahar (morning blessings), in which we thank Hashem "Ha'noten La'ya'ef Ko'ah" – "who gives strength to the weary." The Sadik keeps getting back up because he believes that Hashem is helping him and giving him strength. As long as we keep trying, Hashem gives us the abilities we need to eventually succeed. This is the difference between the wicked and the righteous: the wicked person feels powerless, and thus concludes that there is no purpose to continue trying, whereas the righteous person confidently believes that Hashem is giving him the strength he needs to improve. This is the message of the story of Yaakob Abinu's experiences at the well outside Haran. The large stone on the well symbolizes the Yeser Ha'ra, our evil inclination, the difficult – often overwhelming – spiritual challenges that we each face. Like the stone, they seem too big to move, too difficult to handle, too much for us to overcome. The shepherds, like many people, don't bother trying, because they assume they don't have the strength to succeed. Yaakob showed that when one believes in the "Noten La'ya'ef Ko'ah," he is much stronger than he thinks, and he can "remove the stone," and overcome his challenges. We are not expected to be perfect, because we are human beings, and human beings aren't perfect. We are, however, expected to try, and to try again when we don't succeed. We are expected not to grow tired, not to give up, and to instead trust that Hashem is helping us and giving us the strength we need to achieve. Thu, 27 Nov 2025 00:01:11 GMT Rabbi Eli Mansour Rabbi Eli Mansour No Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Parasha, Parsha, Sedra, Chumash 31b56734-91cc-c3fc-8fc7-088db84f4057 Parashat Hayeh-Sara tells the famous story of Eliezer, Abraham's trusted servant, whom Abraham sent to find a suitable match for Abraham's son, Yishak. Upon arriving at the well outside Abraham's hometown, Aram Naharayim, from where Abraham instructed him to find the match, Eliezer prayed to G-d, begging for His assistance. He said that he would ask a girl at the well for some water, and he asked Hashem to arrange that the girl who not only agreed to give him water, but also offered to give water to his camels, should be the girl destined to marry Yishak. Sure enough, Eliezer saw Ribka – the daughter of Yishak's cousin, Betuel – at the well, and, not knowing who she was, he approached her and asked for water. She agreed, gave him water from her pitcher, and then said that she would draw water from the well for his camels. Ribka then proceeded to repeatedly draw water and pour it into the trough for all ten of Eliezer's camels. Surprisingly, the Torah tells that as Ribka was doing all this, Eliezer watched carefully, wondering "if G-d had made his mission successful or not" (24:21). It seems that even at this point, after Ribka offered to draw water for his camels, he was still not convinced. He needed to observe her throughout this process to determine whether or not she was indeed the right girl to marry Abraham's son. We must ask, what else did Ribka need to prove? Eliezer explicitly said that the suitable girl would be the one who responded to his request for water by offering to draw water for his camels. Why did he still need to wait while Ribka proceeded to draw the water before concluding that she was the one chosen by G-d to marry Yishak? Rav Leib Mintzberg (Jerusalem, 1943-2018), in his Ben Melech, explains that the quality of one's Hesed is not assessed merely by the practical results, by the tangible benefits that he provides. It is measured also by the way it is performed, by whether one helps his fellow graciously, warmly, with a smile, in a manner that makes the recipient feel comfortable and respected. We've all had different kinds of experiences when asking for a favor. Sometimes the person grants our request, but does so coldly, almost begrudgingly, giving us the feeling that he or she would have preferred not to have been bothered. And then there are times when the person does the favor happily, with a warm smile, asking if there's anything else we need, making us feel comfortable and at ease. This is a critically important component of Hesed. Indeed, the Gemara teaches in Masechet Baba Batra (9b) that one who gives money to somebody in need is rewarded with six blessings, whereas one who speaks words of comfort to that individual, lifting his spirits and giving him encouragement, receives eleven blessings – because making a person feel comfortable and at ease is a crucial aspect of kindness. This, Rav Mintzberg writes, is what Eliezer was watching for. Ribka already said that she would draw water for the camels – but Eliezer wanted to see if she would do it warmly and happily, which she of course did. Rav Mintzberg explains on this basis why, afterward, Eliezer gave Ribka as a gift two bracelets and a nose ring, adorning her hands and her face. This symbolizes the fact that she excelled in both aspects of Hesed – the action, and the demeanor. She exerted physical effort to draw a large amount of water for Eliezer's camels, but she also helped him with her face, by wearing a warm smile, by showing her eagerness to help. And these two elements – the act of Hesed, coupled with her warmth and graciousness – are what made Ribka worthy of marrying Yishak and becoming a matriarch of Hashem's treasured nation. Thu, 13 Nov 2025 00:01:11 GMT Rabbi Eli Mansour Rabbi Eli Mansour No Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Parasha, Parsha, Sedra, Chumash 80190c17-5c79-736f-982a-907ac77b5fb7 Toward the end of Parashat Vayera, we read the famous story of Akedat Yishak – where Abraham Abinu was commanded to offer his beloved son, Yishak, as a sacrifice upon the altar. At the last moment, as Abraham held the knife over Yishak, prepared to slaughter him in fulfillment of G-d's command, an angel called out to Abraham and told him to desist, explaining that the command was merely a test of Abraham's devotion to Hashem. The Zohar, in a fascinating passage, adds a remarkable component to this story – one which sheds light on one of the critical lessons that it teaches us. When Yishak saw the knife about to descend upon his neck, the Zohar tells, he, in a sense, died. His soul departed. He was then given a new soul, and came back to life. Yishak was the first to recite the Beracha of "Mehayeh Ha'metim" – praising Hashem who restores life to the dead, and for this reason the second blessing of the Amida prayer, which corresponds to Yishak – the second of patriarchs – concludes with this Beracha. This replacement of Yishak's soul laid the foundations of the emergence of the Jewish Nation. Yishak's original soul was incapable of begetting children, but this new soul was. It turns out, then, that it was only because of Akedat Yishak that Yishak was able to produce offspring. This gives us an entirely new perspective on the story of the Akeda, and its relevance to our lives. When Avraham received the command to slaughter to Yishak, he did not understand how G-d could instruct him to do such a thing. After all, G-d had earlier told him, "Ki Be'Yishak Yikareh Lecha Zara" – that his line would continue through Yishak, and not through his first son, Yishmael (21:12). How, Abraham wondered, could G-d assure him that Yishak would be heir to his covenant with G-d, and the father of the nation destined to emerge from him, and then command offering him as a sacrifice before he had a child? Abraham did not understand. It seemed that offering Yishak on the altar marked the end of G-d's promise, as it would prevent the birth of Am Yisrael. In truth, however, fulfilling this command is precisely what enabled Yishak to have children. Had Abraham refused to obey, in the interest of assuring that Yishak would father the great nation that Hashem had promised – it would not have happened. It was specifically by fulfilling G-d's command, which entailed doing something that appeared to sabotage the process of Am Yisrael's emergence, that Am Yisrael in fact emerged. The Midrash teaches that G-d implores us, "Obey Me, because nobody obeys Me and loses." We never lose by following Hashem's will, by observing the Misvot. We often find ourselves tested the way Abraham was, as a Misva appears detrimental to us. Many times, we face a situation where doing the right thing seems to work against us and our best interests. Staying in bed instead of getting up for Minyan is more comfortable and convenient. Avoiding places where we know we should not be might cost us social points. Dressing, speaking and acting the way we know we should might invite ridicule. Adhering to the Torah's strict ethical standards could cost us profitable opportunities. So often, the right thing to do seems to hurt us. But even when this is true in the short-term, it is never true in the long-term. Whatever sacrifice we need to make here in the present to remain faithful to our Torah values is more than worth it, because Hashem guarantees us that in the long run, we only benefit from obeying His commands. Rav Nachman of Breslav (1772-1810) taught that when a person feels himself becoming angry, he should imagine that Hashem is about to give him an enormous fortune – but he must earn it by restraining his anger. The person thinks that shouting and insulting is the right response to the situation – but by doing so, he will forfeit the inestimable future rewards that are promised to those who control their anger. This can be applied to all the many religious challenges that we face on a day-to-day basis. When we feel tempted to compromise our principles, we should remember the lesson of Akedat Yishak – that the short-term benefits we sacrifice to obey Hashem are far surpassed by the long-term benefits of obedience. Thu, 06 Nov 2025 00:01:11 GMT Rabbi Eli Mansour Rabbi Eli Mansour No Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Parasha, Parsha, Sedra, Chumash 15fd6c3a-c2e4-91af-8386-170fc712082f The Midrash (Bereshit Rabba 42) tells the story of how Rabbi Eliezer ben Hyrcanus first began learning Torah. He had worked with his brothers in the farmlands owned by their father, Hyrcanus, until Eliezer ran away in order to learn Torah under the great Rabbinic leader of that generation, Rabbi Yohanan Ben Zakai. Sometime later, his father came to inform Eliezer that he was disowning him, and removing him from his will. But when his father arrived, he saw that Rabbi Yohanan was hosting a major feast for the Rabbis, with the wealthiest men of the generation in attendance. Of all the people assembled, Rabbi Yohanan selected Eliezer – now Rabbi Eliezer – to deliver a speech. Rabbi Eliezer's words dazzled everyone in the room – including his father, Hyrcanus, who approached him afterward. "I had come here to disown you and exclude you from my fortune," he said, "but I am instead giving you everything I own." What was this speech that so impressed Hyrcanus? The Midrash says that Rabbi Eliezer spoke about an event told by the Torah in Parashat Lech-Lecha – the war waged by the four kings against the five kings. During this war, the four kings captured the city of Sedom, and took its entire population as captives, including Lot, the nephew of Abraham Abinu. When Abraham heard that his nephew was taken, he immediately mobilized a small army and boldly launched an attack against the four kings. Miraculously, Abraham's little army triumphed, and rescued all the captives, including Lot. Rabbi Eliezer, in this first speech that he ever delivered, said that this war is alluded to in a verse in Tehillim (37:14): " The wicked have drawn the sword and bent their bow, to bring down the poor and needy, to slay those who walk uprightly. " These "wicked" people, Rabbi Eliezer explained, were the four kings, who were led by Amrafel, whom Rashi (Bereshit 14:1) identifies as Nimrod, the evil king who had thrown Abraham into a furnace to kill him for denying paganism. These kings came with their armies to wage war against "the poor and the needy" – referring to Lot, and to "slay those who walk uprightly" – referring to Abraham. However, their plan backfired, as the next verse says, " Their sword shall enter their heart" – they were defeated and killed by Abraham. What was so profound about this lecture? What great insight did Rabbi Eliezer here reveal, thus earning him his father's newfound admiration and praise? Rabbi Eliezer here taught that when other nations wage wars, they are invariably, in some way, targeting us, the Jewish People. When we read the Torah's account of this war, we get the impression that Abraham's involvement was purely incidental, the result of Lot happening to be living in Sedom, which fell to the four kings. In truth, however, as Rabbi Eliezer taught, the four kings were actually coming after Abraham and Lot. They targeted Abraham because of the monotheistic belief that he disseminated, and they targeted Lot because he was the ancestor of Rut – the great-grandmother of David – and Na'ama – the wife of King Shlomo, from whom the Davidic dynasty descended, culminating in Mashiah. This conflict outwardly seemed like a struggle between different kingdoms who had strategic alliances, but in truth, it was aimed at Abraham and Lot, seeking to destroy Am Yisrael even before its emergence, and to prevent the possibility of Mashiah's arrival to redeem the Jewish People. In the next passage, the Midrash comments that these four kings represent the four empires that would later persecute the Jewish Nation – Babylonia, Persia, Greece, and Edom (associated with Rome and the Christian world). The Midrash here teaches us that just as the war waged by the four kings was driven by hostility toward Abraham Abinu and toward the nation he was creating, the subsequent wars will similarly be motivated by this ancient hatred. We are thus assured that just as G-d miraculously assisted Abraham Abinu in overcoming his enemies, we, too, will prevail over our hostile adversaries. We need to confidently place our trust in the Almighty, in the "Magen Abraham" ("Shield of Abraham"), and ask Him to protect us and deliver us from our enemies just as He helped our ancestors throughout history. Thu, 30 Oct 2025 00:01:11 GMT Rabbi Eli Mansour Rabbi Eli Mansour No Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Parasha, Parsha, Sedra, Chumash 2b0886f6-3ae2-f1ca-8dbb-affb297b8924 The Torah tells that after G-d commanded Noah to construct the ark, "Noah did in accordance with everything G-d had commanded him – so he did" (6:22). The final clause – "Ken Asa" ("so he did") – seems to have been added to emphasize that Noah built the ark precisely as G-d had commanded, without deviating even one iota from the specific instructions that he had received. We all know that even the most skilled and reputable contractors usually fail to complete their projects to the customer's complete satisfaction. There is always some detail, minor or major, that is not done the way the customer wanted. Noah, however, completed his project – the ark – in precise compliance with G-d's instructions, without overlooking or disregarding even a single detail. Intriguingly, a similar verse appears later in the Parasha, following G-d's command to Noah that he enter the ark with his family. The Torah writes, "Noah did in accordance with all that G-d had commanded him" (7:5). Rashi explains that this refers to his entering the ark. It is striking that in this context, the Torah does not add, "Ken Asa." In this instance, there is no emphasis on the fact that Noah complied precisely with G-d's instructions. The reason is found in Rashi's startling comments two verses later (7:7). The Torah tells that Noah and his family entered the ark "because of the waters of the flood," and Rashi explains that he did not go into the ark until he was forced to by the floodwaters. Noah, Rashi writes, was ambivalent. He did not fully believe that Hashem would bring the flood, and so he did not go into the ark immediately after he was told to. He waited until the heavy rains compelled him to seek refuge in the ark. This easily explains why the phrase "Ken Asa" is omitted in the context of Noah's entry into the ark. In this case, he did not, in fact, comply precisely with Hashem's command. Although he was, of course, a righteous man who faithfully obeyed G-d, his obedience in this instance was imperfect. The question then becomes, why was Noah ambivalent? He spent 120 years building the ark in preparation for the flood that G-d told him would come. Did he really not believe that G-d would flood the earth? Rav Yosef Salant (Jerusalem, 1885-1981), in his Be'er Yosef, explained that Noah of course did not question G-d's ability to bring the flood, or if He would tell the truth, but he thought that in His infinite mercy, G-d might rescind the decree. After all, G-d waited 120 years after issuing the decree, and then, as Rashi (7:4) brings from the Gemara, he waited an additional seven days so that the people could mourn the passing of Metushelah, a righteous man. Noah waited to see if G-d would further delay the flood in the hope that the people would repent. Nevertheless, Noah acted wrongly because he was explicitly commanded to go into the ark. We are to comply with Hashem's instructions without making our own calculations. Compelling as our own reasoning might seem to us, they can never get in the way of our strict compliance with the Torah's commands. We must strive to reach the level of "Ken Asa" – where our obedience is complete, unwavering, unhesitating and uncompromised, driven by a fierce desire to faithfully serve our Creator. Thu, 23 Oct 2025 00:01:11 GMT Rabbi Eli Mansour Rabbi Eli Mansour No Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Insights into the Weekly Parasha - Brought to you by itorah.com Parasha, Parsha, Sedra, Chumash