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, 13 Sep 2026 00:01:11 GMT Sun, 13 Sep 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 698be624-3aa2-79ee-40e4-594f47188d28 It is clear that "Malchut" – G-d's Kingship over the world – is the dominant theme of Rosh Hashanah. If we quickly review the text of the Rosh Hashanah prayers, this becomes very evident. We repeat numerous times that Hashem is King over the universe. And Rav Saadia Gaon (882-942) writes that one of the reasons we blow the Shofar is because Rosh Hashanah is the day of G-d's coronation, and so we blow the Shofar just as trumpets are sounded at a king's coronation. But what exactly does it mean to crown Hashem as King? What does this require? Does it suffice to hear the Shofar and shout "Hashem Melech…" during the Rosh Hashanah prayer service? A powerful insight into the deeper meaning of Rosh Hashanah, and what this occasion demands of us, was offered by Rav Yitzchak Hutner (1906-1980). He explained that in order for there to be a king, there must be subjects who have some resemblance to the king. Thus, for example, the lion is king of the jungle, but the eagle is the king over the birds. The lion cannot reign over birds, because it does not fly, and the eagle cannot reign over the land animals, which don't fly. A king can attain the title of monarch only if he has subjects with whom there is some connection, and this requires a degree of resemblance. In order for us to crown Hashem as King, then, we need to resemble Him. How? The answer lies in the most fundamental difference between man and animal – the capacity to choose, to chart our course, to make decisions about who we want to be. Animals cannot choose between right or wrong. They live according to the instincts with which they were created. They react to their surroundings and their innate drives without thinking, impulsively. Only we human beings have the power to exercise restraint, to control and subdue our natural instincts. The verse states in Kohelet (3:19), "U'motar Ha'adam Min Ha'behema Ayin." This means that the only difference between man and beast is "Ayin" – the ability to decline, to say "No" to our impulses. The word "Ayin" may also be read as an acrostic representing the words "Adam Yesh Neshama" – "the human being has a soul." We have a soul, a G-d-like characteristic whereby we can choose between right or wrong, and exert control over our behavior. Hashem is all-powerful, entirely dependent and fully in control of everything. We resemble G-d in our ability to control our behavior. The Gemara famously teaches, "Ha'kol Bi'ydeh Shamayim Hutz Mi'yir'at Shamayim" – everything depends on G-d except for our fear of Heaven. Meaning, Hashem controls everything about our lives except our decisions of how to act, our choices between good and bad. And it is in this area of life – our free will to act properly or improperly – that we in a sense resemble our Creator, as this is the area over which we have control and dominion. And this, Rav Hutner explained, is our obligation on Rosh Hashanah. This is the day when G-d first created man, in His "image," with the ability to choose between right and wrong. Each year, on this day, we crown G-d anew – and for this to happen, we must recommit ourselves to resembling Him. In order to be His subjects, we must be creatures with the power of restraint and control. Our job on Rosh Hashanah is to reinforce our power of self-discipline and restraint. We must realize that when we say, "I couldn't help it," this is not true – we can help it. We can restrain ourselves, we can tell ourselves "No," we can stop bad behaviors and kick bad habits. Of course, this is hard, and change will not happen overnight – but it is not impossible. Our behavior is entirely under our power and authority. To crown Hashem as King on this day, we must become His subjects – by reaffirming our G-d-like quality of self-control. We live in a society which presents us with so many lures, pressures and temptations. Every day, we must struggle against ourselves to act the right way and to avoid wrongdoing. On Rosh Hashanah, we declare that we are fully capable of meeting this challenge, that we are not animals, that we determine our spiritual destiny, that we have the power of choice, that we are not controlled by our instincts – that we control them. By making this declaration, we become G-d's loyal servants who are deserving of His special protection and blessings. Tue, 08 Sep 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 bf2f5e2c-aeec-893b-195c-b8b7faea8c72 The Torah in Parashat Nisavim foresees the time when Beneh Yisrael would be banished into exile on account of their breach of their covenant with G-d, describing, "Va'yashlichem Be'eretz Aheret" – Hashem's casting the nation into a different land (29:27). Those who look carefully at the Torah scroll will notice that the letter Lamed in the word "Va'yashlichem" is written larger than the other letters of the Torah. Enlarged letters in the Torah function like bolded text, or capitalized letters, in modern-day writing, denoting emphasis. What might the Torah have sought to emphasize with the enlarged Lamed in this word? Perhaps we can answer this question by understanding the unique significance of this letter. Several great Rabbis taught that as the word "Lamed" means "learn," this letter is associated with Torah study. The Ben Ish Hai (Rav Yosef Haim of Baghdad, 1833-1909) explains on this basis the unique shape of the letter Lamed, which is drawn with a vertical line on top, followed by a horizontal line, and then another vertical line dropping down. This shape, the Ben Ish Hai writes, represents the process of Torah tradition. The top vertical line represents the transmission of Torah wisdom as it "descends" from the scholar to his disciple. The horizontal line represents the learning that takes place among peers, how the students – who are generally on the same level, like points on a horizontal line – learn and gain from another. The line descending from that horizonal line symbolizes the students' then transmitting their knowledge and wisdom down to their offspring and students. If, indeed, the letter Lamed represents Torah learning, then we can perhaps explain the significance of the enlarged letter Lamed in the word "Va'yachlichem." As mentioned, this word speaks of the Jews leaving into exile, where they would live amidst, and under the authority of, foreign nations. The Torah is alluding to us that when this happens, when we are driven to exile, the Lamed – Torah learning – must be our central point of focus. Living among foreign cultures, we face two potential challenges: persecution, and assimilation. In some exiles, the primary hardship involved the foreign governments' attempts to ban Jewish learning and practice, to pull us away from our faith and our traditions by force. But in other eras, such as in our current exile here in the United States, the challenge is assimilation. We are, thank G-d, free to practice our religion without any restrictions, but with all the freedoms we enjoy come the lures and pressures of our society. Its beliefs are not our beliefs, its values are not our values, and its lifestyle is not our lifestyle. As a small minority, we face the constant pressure to accept the beliefs, values and lifestyle of our surroundings. This is why the Lamed is enlarged. The most effective and most important weapon we have in our arsenal with which to defend ourselves against the unrelenting cultural pressure to which we are subject in exile is Torah learning. When we learn Torah, we submerge ourselves in our faith, in our values, in our traditions, in our laws and customs. Torah learning of course is and always was a vitally important part of Jewish life, for several reasons, but in exile – and especially in our current reality – it serves the function of anchoring us to our spiritual core, and fortifying us against the hostile spiritual influences of general society. Let us, then, redouble our commitment to Torah learning, so we will survive this exile both physically and spiritually, and be worthy of our final redemption, speedily and in our time, Amen. Tue, 01 Sep 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 a4289859-2f1f-1b51-7d61-0d64e9fb94a1 The Torah promises in Parashat Ki-Tabo (28:10), "All the nations of the earth will see that the Name of G-d is called upon you, and they will be afraid of you." Targum Yonatan Ben Uziel explains that this refers to the Tefillin Shel Rosh, which we proudly wear upon our heads. The Torah promises that when the enemies of the Jewish People see the Tefillin on our heads, they will be gripped by fear and will no longer try to inflict harm on us. How does this work? How will the sight of the Tefillin instill fear within our enemies? The Kol Aryeh answers this question by developing the symbolic meaning of the Tefillin Shel Rosh. The Tefillin Shel Rosh features a knot in the back, from which two straps extend along the front of a person's body – one to the right and one to the left. The right side is always associated with Hesed – G-d's kindness, whereas the left side represents Din – judgment. For this reason, it is customary for the right Tefillin strap to extend longer than the left strap, reflecting our desire for an abundance of Hesed. One who sees the front of a person sees two separate, seemingly disconnected, straps. Outwardly, Hesed and Din are two distinct phenomena. Some events and experiences appear as Hesed, manifestations of G-d's kindness, whereas others seem like pure Din – harsh judgment. However, when the Tefillin Shel Rosh is viewed from the back, it becomes clear that both straps come from the same source, from the knot on the back of the head. The knot of the Tefillin symbolizes the belief that in truth, Hesed and Din are one and the same, that everything Hashem does is for the best, and for our ultimate benefit, even if sometimes it causes us pain. The two "straps" are really one, because everything Hashem does is for the best. When Moshe was atop Mount Sinai, he asked, "Har'eni Na Et Kebodecha" – "Show me, please, Your glory" (Shemot 33:18). The Sages explained that Moshe wanted to understand the secret of G-d's governance, why the righteous occasionally suffer, whereas the evildoers occasionally enjoy good fortune. G-d responded, "Ve'ra'ita Et Ahorai" – that Moshe would be able to see Him "from the back" (33:23), which the Gemara (Berachot 7) explains to mean that Hashem showed Moshe the knot of His Tefillin. The answer to Moshe's question is the knot of the Tefillin Shel Rosh – the belief that there is no distinction between what we perceive as bad and what we perceive as good. Everything Hashem does is a manifestation of the greatest Hesed, even when we cannot understand how. This is why Halacha requires reciting Shema while wearing Tefillin. The opening verse of Shema declares, "Hashem Elokenu, Hashem Ehad." The Name of "Havaya" is associated with the attribute of Hesed, whereas the Name "Elokim" refers to divine judgment. The pronouncement "Hashem Elokenu, Hashem Ehad" means that both "Hashem" and "Elokenu" are "Hashe Ehad" – a single manifestation of G-d, an expression of kindness. Even "Elokim" is "Havaya"; even what appears to us as bad is the ultimate good. We must make this pronouncement while wearing our Tefillin – which expresses this fundamental tenet of Emuna (faith). With this background, we can return to the verse here in Parashat Ki-Tabo. In the future, the enemy nations will be shown how all the pain and sorrow they caused the Jewish Nation was actually to our benefit, a manifestation of Hashem's kindness. They will see that all their efforts to persecute us and defeat us actually helped us, and in fact led to the final redemption. They will see the "Tefillin Shel Rosh" – that both "straps" are really one, that even the misfortune that Am Yisrael experiences is in fact beneficial for us. And they will thus be overcome by fear and horror, recognizing that all their efforts had the precise opposite effect than they intended, that everything they did to hurt us was in fact helping us. The message for us is that we must reinforce our steadfast faith in Hashem's unlimited kindness, and repeatedly remind ourselves that "Hashem Elokenu, Hashem Ehad" – even the struggles and hardships of life are to our ultimate benefit. Although we cannot possibly understand in the present moment how this could be good, we must trust that in the future everything will become clear, and we will see with our eyes the "knot of the Tefillin," how everything Hashem did was for the best. Thu, 27 Aug 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 0c54907c-dd95-74dc-40ed-c7429d367767 The Torah in Parashat Ki-Teseh (24:19) introduces the Misva known as "Shicheha," which applies when a farmer forgets some of his produce behind during the harvest. This forgotten produce, the Torah commands, must be left for the poor. If one later realizes that he left some grain behind, he is not permitted to go back to retrieve it. The Torah writes: "It shall be for the foreigner, the orphan and the widow, so that Hashem your G-d shall bless you in all your hands' actions." By leaving this forgotten produce to the poor, one earns special blessing. Rashi, based on the Sifreh, notes that the Torah promises the farmer reward for the benefit he brought to the poor despite knowing nothing about it. Meaning, even if the farmer never realizes that he forgot sheaves of grain, he is nevertheless rewarded for his unintentional charity, for the assistance that the poor received from his forgotten grain. Rashi thus infers from this verse that if a person mistakenly dropped a coin, and a pauper finds it and uses it for his needs, the one who dropped the coin receives reward. Even though he had no intention to give charity, and even if he never notices the missing coin, he is rewarded for the benefit he unknowingly brought to the needy individual. The Saba of Kelm (Rav Simcha Zissel Ziv, 1824–1898) makes a powerful comment about the Misva of "Shicheha." Just as a person receives reward for the material charity that he gives unintentionally, the Saba writes, so does one receive reward for his unintentional spiritual charity. Sometimes money falls from a person's pocket; other times – and likely far more often – "money" falls from a person's soul. We are entirely unaware of the influence we have on other people. When we conduct ourselves properly, the people around us take notice, and are impacted. When a person's neighbors see him leave on time for Shaharit each morning, they are influenced by this example. When a person maintains his calm and composure in the workplace when problems arise, without raising his voice or panicking, his coworkers take notice, and are influenced. When a businessman conducts his affairs with scrupulous honesty, even at the expense of profitable opportunities, his associates take notice, and are influenced. We never know who is looking at us at any point during the day, who is noticing our behavior, and who is being influenced by the way we act and the way we speak. The rewards for our unintentional spiritual charity, the Saba of Kelm adds, are, undoubtedly, far greater than the rewards for unintentional material charity. If a person drops some money which is then discovered by a pauper, the pauper uses that money to sustain himself for a brief period of time. But our spiritual charity goes much further. The influence that people receive from our example lasts a lifetime, affecting their character, their behavior, and their choices forever. And, this influence triggers a chain reaction, as the people we positively influence have a positive influence on others, who then positively influence others, and so on. We cannot even imagine how far the effects of our behavior go – and thus we cannot even imagine the rewards we receive for these effects. People today are exposed to negative influences like never before. And so any positive influence that we can have on people today is so much more precious than at any other time. Therefore, we must live with this awareness of how every action and every word matters. We have no idea how many "coins" fall from our soul at any given moment, how we are influencing people through everything we say and do. Let us, then, try to always behave the right way – because we never know who's watching, and how they are being influenced by us. Wed, 19 Aug 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 25f16c95-9011-4b62-20fd-e50c08ba6f83 Parashat Shofetim begins with the command, "Shofetim Ve'shoterim Titen Lecha Be'chol She'arecha" – "You shall place for yourselves judges and enforcers in all your gates." This establishes the Biblical obligation to appoint in every city ("in all your gates") courts to determine the laws, and officials to enforce them. The verse later adds, "LI'shbatecha" – "for your tribes," which the Sages understood as a requirement to appoint a higher court for each tribe (see Rashi and Ramban). Surprisingly, this command is presented in the singular form – "Lecha," "She'arecha." Although the Torah here addresses itself to the entire nation, commanding the appointment of judges in every city, and over every tribe, this imperative is formulated such that it is directed toward every individual. Rav Haim Vital (1543-1620) explained that the Torah is alluding here to the obligation upon each and every individual to appoint "judges" and "enforcers" for all "She'arecha" – all the "gates" to his being. This means exercising care and discretion when deciding what we allow ourselves to see, to hear and to eat. It meant "judging" and scrutinizing ourselves, and "enforcing" our own compliance with the Torah's laws and the Torah's principles. Rav Haim Vital here is making a crucial point that cannot be overemphasized – that we must judge and govern ourselves before we try to judge and govern others. Many people happily volunteer for the position of "judge" over their city, and over their community, to criticize this person or that person, this institution or that institution, this policy or that policy. They also happily volunteer for the person of "enforcer," to tell people what they're doing wrong. Rav Haim Vital is teaching us to criticize ourselves before we criticize others, to put our own lives in order before we try to fix all the world's problems, or even all the community's problems. In the next verse, the Torah turns to the appointed judge and commands, "Lo Tateh Mishpat" – "Do not distort the judgment." In reference to judges sitting on the court, this means that a judge may not rule with favoritism, applying distorted logic in order to reach a decision in favor of the litigant of his preference. But this is true also of our "judgment" of ourselves. We are naturally inclined to find fault in others but not in ourselves. When it comes to our own behavior, we have a tendency to "distort" our reasoning, to find excuses for ourselves, to come up with justifications for things we should not have done. About this judgment, too, the Torah commands, "Lo Tateh Mishpat" – that we must judge ourselves objectively and honestly, uncomfortable as this can sometimes be. Returning to this Parasha's opening verse, the first letters of the word "Lecha Li'shbatecha Ve'shafetu Et" (Lamed, Lamed, Vav, Alef) are the letters of the word "Elul." And, sure enough, Parashat Shofetim is always read at the beginning of the month of Elul. The message being conveyed is that this month is about judging and scrutinizing ourselves, with brutal honesty. Elul is the time to stop trying to change the world, to point out all the problems other people are making, and to redirect our attention to ourselves, to the things that we need to improve. Thu, 13 Aug 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 564e3f9d-d8dc-23c1-337c-ca26e1ed96ee The Journey Parashat Re'eh concludes with the Misva known as Aliya Le'regel – appearing before G-d in the Bet Ha'mikdash three times each year, on the holidays of Pesach, Shabuot and Sukkot. The Gemara in Masechet Hagiga (3a) makes a comment that sheds light on the nature of this Misva, and on the vital lesson that it teaches us. King Shelomo exclaims in Shir Hashirim (7:2), "Ma Yafu Fe'amayich Ba'ne'alim, Bat Nadib" – literally, "How beautiful are your steps in shoes, the daughter of the generous one." The Gemara interprets this verse as a reference to the journey that Beneh Yisrael would take to the Jerusalem before the holidays for the Misva of Aliya Le'regel. And the expression "Bat Nadib" ("daughter of the generous one") means that Beneh Yisrael are the descendants of Abraham Abinu, who was called "Nadib," as he was exceptionally generous and giving. The Gemara here seems to draw a comparison between two journeys: Beneh Yisrael's journey to the Bet Ha'mikdash for the holidays, and Abraham Abinu's journey. On one level, this refers to Abraham Abinu's journey from his homeland to Eretz Yisrael, about which the Midrash teaches that Abraham received reward for each and every step. Abraham's journey was not merely a means to an end, a practical necessity to fulfill G-d's command to settle in Eretz Yisrael. Rather, the journey itself was inherently meaningful and valuable, and he thus earned reward for each step. Likewise, Beneh Yisrael's journey to the Bet Ha'mikdash was itself a Misva. Indeed, we call this Misva "Aliya Le'regel" – going to the Bet Ha'mikdash for the holiday, emphasizing the process of "Aliya," of journeying. The Misva was to undertake the journey, to make the effort, to go through the trouble of going to appear before Hashem. On a deeper level, when the Gemara mentions Abraham Abinu in the context of the people's journey to Jerusalem, it refers to his journey through life. The Rambam writes that Abraham was born into a family of idolaters, and he himself worshipped idols. At the age of 3, Abraham began questioning and inquiring, thinking about the world, how it came into being, and who governs it. This theological journey which began at the age of 3 continued for 37 years, as it was only at the age of 40 that Abraham arrived at the belief in a single Creator. The journey of Aliya Le'regel parallels Abraham Abinu's extraordinary spiritual journey, his lengthy, step-by-step process of growth – because Aliya Le'regel, too, is a process of spiritual preparation. A person cannot simply appear before Hashem in the Bet Ha'mikdash without first preparing himself. The "footsteps," the trek to Jerusalem, was an obligatory process of growth, of putting oneself in the proper mindset to appear before Hashem in the Bet Ha'mikdash. The Kabbalists teach that the domain of place parallels the domain of time. The Bet Ha'mikdash, the most sacred place on earth, parallels the Yamim Noraim – the period of the High Holidays, the most sacred days of the year. Yom Kippur, the apex of this period, corresponds to the Kodesh Ha'kodashim, the inner sanctum of the Bet Ha'mikdash, whereas Rosh Hashanah, the onset of this period, is represented by the Azara, the courtyard of the Bet Ha'mikdash where the people would assemble on the three pilgrimage festivals. It emerges, then, that the period of Elul – the month of preparation for Rosh Hashanah – parallels "Aliya Le'regel," the journey to the Bet Ha'mikdash. The month that we begin this coming week is a time of journeying, of growth, of "Aliya" – elevation, lifting ourselves higher, so we come prepared to the "Bet Ha'mikdash," to Rosh Hashanah, when we stand before the Almighty for judgment. It is no coincidence that Parashat Re'eh is always read on the Shabbat preceding Rosh Hodesh Elul. Throughout the Book of Debarim, Moshe Rabbenu is preparing the people for life in the Land of Israel. But in this Parasha, for the first time, he speaks of "the place which G-d shall choose" – referring to the Bet Ha'mikdash. In this Parasha, Moshe prepares the people for the Bet Ha'mikdash, explaining what his special site is and the special laws pertaining to it. This is precisely what the month of Elul is all about – preparing ourselves for the "Bet Ha'mikdash" of time, for Rosh Hashanah, by growing and lifting ourselves, one beautiful "footstep" at a time, bringing us ever closer to Hashem and to spiritual greatness. Thu, 06 Aug 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 4170b275-0880-a17a-f228-fa82bae93191 In the second paragraph of Shema, which appears in Parashat Ekeb, the Torah warns of the harsh punishments that would befall Beneh Yisrael if they abandon G-d's laws. Specifically, it warns of poverty that would be followed by exile from the Land of Israel and dispersion among the other nations. The Torah then commands, "Ve'samtem Et Debarai Eleh Al Lebabchem Ve'al Nafshechem" – "You shall place these words of mine upon your hearts and upon your souls" (11:18). It then commands placing these words upon our heads and arms – in the form of Tefillin – and upon our doorposts – in the form of Mezuzot. Rashi (citing the Sifri) presents a surprising reading of this verse. He interprets the verse to mean, "Even after you go into exile, you shall be distinguished through Misvot – place Tefillin and make Mezuzot, so they will not be new to you when you return." At first glance, Rashi appears to be making as astonishing statement – that after Beneh Yisrael were exiled from the land, the Misvot of the Torah became, fundamentally, no longer obligatory. We need to observe the Misvot only so they are not forgotten, so they will not be "new" to us when the final redemption arrives and we return to the land. The Torah thus tells us in this verse that after the exile, we should continue performing the Misvot, such as Tefillin and Mezuzot, to preserve their memory. Numerous later writers sought to explain Rashi's comments. The Gemara in Masechet Kiddushin states explicitly that only Misvot which are inherently linked to the Land of Israel – such as the Torah's agricultural laws – are non-binding elsewhere. All other Misvot, however, are binding even outside the land. How, then, can Rashi write that the Misvot are required only as a commemoration, for the sake of ensuring they are remembered? A particularly fascinating – and meaningful – reading of Rashi's comments was offered in the work Shemen Le'mish'ha (by Rav Asher Anshel Weiss, 1882-1944). At various times throughout our history, the gentile governments forced the Jews to wear a special garment or piece of material (such as the infamous "Yellow Star") to publicize their Jewish identity. This was done so that the hostile gentiles will identify the Jews and will thus mistreat them. The Shemen Ha'mish'ha speculates that this decree might have been sent from Above in response to the Jews' efforts to hide their Jewish identity, to blend in with the gentiles, to compromise their values and traditions for the sake of resembling their gentile neighbors. When the Jews choose not to display their Jewishness, the Shemen Le'mish'ha writes, then Hashem arranges that the enemy nations will see to it that the Jews' Jewishness will be put on full display. When we feel ashamed of our identity, and try to hide it, then the gentile nations ensure to publicize it. The Shemen Le'mish'ha suggests explaining Rashi's comments in this vein. Rashi writes that the Torah here commands that in exile, "Heyu Mesuyanim Be'misvot" – we must be "distinguished," and stand out, through our Misva observance. Even when we live among other nations, we must not conceal our beliefs and practices. We must not be afraid to be different, to look different, and to act differently. The Torah therefore specifies the Misvot of Tefillin and Mezuza – practices which publicize our identity, which involve things that we wear and that we place outside our homes to distinguish ourselves. Rashi explains that the Torah urges us not to conceal our Jewishness "Kedeh She'lo Yiheyu Lachem Hadashim" – literally, "so that you will not have new ones." Meaning, if we fail to observe our Misvot that make us stand out, we will be forced to observe other, "new" practices that make us stand out – in the form of harsh decrees issued for the purpose of causing Jews to suffer hatred and hostility. We must not hide our Jewishness. We should wear it with pride and conviction, ever mindful of the precious privilege we have to be G-d's cherished nation, chosen to study and follow His sacred Torah. Thu, 30 Jul 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 2a2662e0-d43d-788f-39ab-a99ff49719a4 The Torah in Parashat Va'et'hanan (4:2) introduces the prohibitions known as "Bal Tosif" and "Bal Tigra" – adding to, or diminishing from, the Torah. Rashi explains that this refers to the way we observe the Misvot. If a person adds a fifth piece of parchment to the four pieces of parchment in the Tefillin, or if he adds a fifth species to the Arba Minim on Sukkot, then he violates "Bal Tosif," whereas if he uses only three pieces of parchment in the Tefillin, or only three species on Sukkot, he violates "Bal Tigra." The Ramban writes that "Bal Tosif" refers to adding a new law to the Torah, like a new holiday, whereas "Bal Tigra" means doing away with a Misva. Curiously, immediately after Moshe presents these commands, he recalls the tragedy of Ba'al Pe'or – the time when many members of Beneh Yisrael worshipped Pe'or, the deity of the nation of Moab. Moshe reminds the people that everyone who worshipped Pe'or was killed by a plague sent by G-d, whereas those who did not survived. What might be the connection between Ba'al Pe'or and the prohibitions of "Bal Tosif" and "Bal Tigra"? Why did Moshe bring up the tragic event of Ba'al Pe'or in the context of these commands? Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz (1902-1979) answers this question by noting the very unusual way in which Pe'or was worshipped – its followers would defecate on the idol. We must wonder, what kind of religion would come up with such a peculiar mode of worship? And what made Pe'or so appealing that Beneh Yisrael were lured to this type of idolatry? The answer is that to the contrary – Pe'or was the most appealing of all religions, because it championed the complete lack of restraint and boundaries. Defecating on the idol meant the elimination of all rules and limits on behavior, the belief that one can do whatever he pleases whenever he pleases, that anything goes, that even bodily functions – which humanity has always demanded be performed in private – should be performed freely. What made Pe'or so enticing was its rejection of self-discipline and self-restraint, and encouraging its followers to act upon their instincts without holding back. Rav Shmuelevitz explained that Moshe was warning the people about what happens when the Torah's system of laws is viewed as malleable, as subject to the people's approval. If a person feels entitled to modify the Torah, and introduces even a slight change – that small change is like a small hole in a fence. And a fence with a hole is not a fence. While it might not happen immediately, slight modifications to the Torah can lead to "Pe'or," to a point where anything goes, where there are no longer any iron-clad rules. This danger exists in both directions – when adding or detracting from the Torah. There were movements that began with one small "detraction," by taking away one Misva or one time-honored tradition, and this led to eventually abandoning the entire Torah. Conversely, when Rabbis try to "add" to the Torah, introducing stringencies and customs which the people find too burdensome, the people are likely to just give up observance altogether. Moshe therefore warns against both adding and detracting, insisting that we adhere to the Torah's laws without trying to modify it one way or the other. The Ramban, in his comments to this verse, writes that despite the prohibition of "Bal Tosif," the Sages introduced the holidays of Hanukah and Purim because they found allusions to these celebrations in the Torah itself. They were reluctant to approve of these new holidays, but they eventually did so – only because the Torah makes subtle reference to these two occasions. Rav Yosef Salant ( 1885-1981) added that this might explain the unusual features of these holidays. The Megilla reading, the primary Misva on Purim, does not take place on the same day in all places; the first Mishna in Masechet Megilla teaches that there are several different dates on which the Megilla was read in different locations under different circumstances. And the Misva of Hanukah candles, as we know, has three different gradations. The Gemara establishes that the minimum level requires just a single candle each night, the higher level is lighting a candle for each member of the household, and the highest level – which is what we of course do – is to add a candle each night. Although the Sages eventually approved the establishment of these new holidays, they ensured that they would be observed somewhat unusually, that they would not be as straightforward as the holidays established by the Torah, to make it clear that they were not adding onto the Torah. This shows how careful the Rabbis were when it came to introducing new customs or practices. They understood the danger of making even a slight hole in the fence, in giving the impression that the Torah is subject to modification. We must remain steadfastly loyal to the Torah and to our traditions, and never think that we know better, that we're smart enough to make up our own rules. Thu, 23 Jul 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 39536539-eb4f-a9df-4ab0-22f1113949b2 A number of books draw an intriguing – though puzzling – parallel between two periods on the Jewish calendar: the period of Ben He'mesarim (the Three Weeks from Shiba Asar Be'Tammuz through Tisha B'Ab) and the period of the holidays in the month of Tishri. The month of Tishri begins with Rosh Hashanah, and the holiday season concludes with the celebration of Shemini Aseret on the 22nd of Tishri. (In the Diaspora, we observe Shemini Aseret as a two-day celebration, referring to the second day as Simhat Torah, but fundamentally, this is just one day, on the 22nd of Tishri, and this is how it is celebrated in Israel.) According to a number of Rabbis, these two 22-day periods parallel one another, and are linked to one another. This parallelism leads us to an astonishing conclusion – that the final days of these two periods, Tisha B'Ab and Simhat Torah, are connected. This conclusion is astonishing because, quite simply, it would have been hard to come up with any two days on the Jewish calendar that are more different from one another. In fact, these days are polar opposites – and not only because one day is spent fasting, sitting on the floor and mourning, while the other is spent dancing, singing and feasting. Simhat Torah marks the day when the first Bet Ha'mikdash was inaugurated. King Shlomo conducted a two-week celebration in honor of the Temple's inauguration, which culminated on the 22nd day of Tishri. And, for this reason, the Zohar teaches that Shlomo is considered the "Ushpizin" for Shemini Aseret, which is, in a sense, the eighth day of Sukkot. It thus emerges that the day when the Bet Ha'mikdash's inauguration was completed is, remarkably, linked to Tisha B'Ab, the day when the Bet Ha'mikdash was destroyed. If Shemini Aseret is associated with Shlomo Ha'melech, then Tisha B'Ab is associated with Yirmiyahu – the prophet who warned of the destruction of the Bet Ha'mikdash. Shlomo Ha'melech enjoyed a life of wealth, prestige, peace, comfort and serenity, and he composed Shir Ha'shirim – a joyful, heartwarming book about the intense love between Hashem and the Jewish People. Yirmiyahu suffered misery throughout his life, being constantly taunted and at one point even imprisoned, and then personally witnessed the destruction of Jerusalem and was driven into exile. The book he wrote – Echa, which we read while sitting on the floor on Tisha B'Ab – laments the rupture of the bond between G-d and His people, and the unspeakable calamities that befell our nation at the time of Jerusalem's destruction – the polar opposite of Shir Ha'shirim. Interestingly enough, the Arizal – based on a number of earlier sources – teaches that King Shlomo's soul returned in Yirmiyahu, further underscoring the connection between Simhat Torah – the day associated with King Shlomo – and Tisha B'Ab – the day associated with Yirmiyahu. These two figures shared the same soul, and thus the days that embody their lives' respective missions are closely linked. These two days are linked because Simhat Torah is the day when we celebrate the precious gift of the Torah – and it is through Torah that we become worthy of redemption. The Or Ha'haim (Rav Haim Ben-Attar, 1696-1743) writes that Mashiah does not wish to redeem a nation of ignoramuses. It is only when we recommit ourselves to Torah learning and put in the time and effort to learn that we earn our long-awaited final redemption. Tisha B'Ab is associated with Simhat Torah because it is through the joy of Torah learning, embodied by the festive celebration of Simhat Torah, that we end the exile which we mourn on Tisha B'Ab. In our community – and in many others, as well – we are witnessing a truly extraordinary phenomenon, one which clearly shows that we are well on our way to making the transition from Tisha B'Ab to Simhat Torah, from mourning the destruction of the Bet Ha'mikdash to celebrating the restoration of the Bet Ha'mikdash. My father recalled to me how in his time, people spent Tisha B'Ab afternoon at the beach. Now, as everyone knows, Tisha B'Ab is likely the greatest day of Torah learning in the entire year. Synagogues are packed with men and women of all ages hearing Torah classes for many hours throughout the day, and some even the entire day. Ironically, in our time, Tisha B'Ab has turned into a "Simhat Torah." Of course, it is still a day of mourning and grieving. But nevertheless, we cannot overlook the drastic change that has occurred, with the entire community – and many other communities – joining together for hours upon hours to learn Torah on this day. This phenomenon is representative of the broader transition that has been taking place in recent years. People are devoted to Torah learning like never before. With all the unique spiritual challenges of our generation which I and many other Rabbis speak about regularly, the amount of Torah being learned on a daily basis in our time is breathtaking. This is a clear sign that we are, gradually, transitioning from Tisha B'Ab to Simhat Torah, from a state of Hurban (destruction) to a state of redemption. May Hashem help us continue this transition, to continue devoting ourselves to Torah learning and inspiring others to do the same, so we may be worthy of Mashiah's arrival and the rebuilding of the Bet Ha'mikdash, when we will experience an everlasting Simhat Torah, amen. Thu, 16 Jul 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 579345d3-1b4d-4c06-36e8-bfd6a478b7a5 Rabbi Akiba's Tears Parashat Matot begins with a number of laws regarding vows, including the authority given to a husband to annul certain vows taken by his wife. The Torah states that in such a case, when a wife takes a vow and the husband declares its annulment, "V'Hashem Yislah Lah" – G-d will forgive the woman (30:13). The Sages understood this verse as referring to a situation where the wife did not know that her husband annulled the vow, and nevertheless proceeded to violate it. For example, the wife declared herself a Nezira, committing to abstain from wine, and she later decided to drink wine despite her vow. As it turned out, she committed no transgression by drinking wine, because her husband annulled her vow of Nezirut. Nevertheless, she requires G-d's forgiveness since she intended to violate the vow. The Gemara (Kiddushin 81b) tells that Rabbi Akiba would weep each time he read this verse. He was overcome by emotion upon seeing that even a person who did not commit a sin requires atonement if he intended to commit a sin. If even such an act – which was actually permissible – requires atonement, then how much more so is a person held accountable when he commits an act that is truly forbidden. A deep explanation for Rabbi Akiva's tears emerges from the teachings of Rav Shimshon of Ostropoli (1600-1648). Ashkenazic communities have the custom of including in the Kinnot on Tisha B'Ab a lament for the Asara Harugeh Malchut – the ten great sages who were murdered by the Romans. The Roman emperor learned the law in the Torah that kidnapping a person and then selling him as a slave is a capital offense, punishable by death. He thus decreed that ten great sages must be murdered to atone for the sin of Mechirat Yosef – when Yosef's brothers committed this exact crime, selling their brother as a slave. Since this crime was committed by Yosef's ten brothers, ten sages were brutally murdered to atone for this misdeed. In truth, only nine of Yosef's brothers participated in his sale as a slave. Binyamin, the youngest, was home and thus not present at the time of the sale, and Reuben tried to rescue Yosef. Thus, this crime was committed by only nine brothers. Rav Shimshon of Ostropoli cites the Arizal as teaching that the Almighty Himself, as it were, was the tenth participant. He decreed that this should happen, and He thus "completed the Minyan," so-to-speak, joining Yosef's brothers in selling him as a slave to Egypt. Now the Kabbalists have identified the specific correspondence between the Asara Harugeh Malchut and the brothers who sold Yosef – meaning, which of the ten great sages corresponds to which of Yosef's brothers. For example, one of these sages was Rabbi Huspit Ha'meturgeman – a great Rabbi who was blessed with a loud, clear voice, and thus worked as the "broadcaster" who would help the Rabbis deliver their lectures. He corresponds to Naftali, who is described as "Ha'noten Imreh Shafer" (49:21) – the speaker of beautiful words. Rav Shimshon of Ostropoli taught that Rabbi Akiba, who was among the ten sages murdered by the Romans, corresponded to G-d, the tenth "participant" in Mechirat Yosef. This is because Rabbi Akiba taught that the Torah's command to fear Hashem extends also to Torah scholars – meaning, just as one is obligated to fear Hashem, so must one show reverence to the sages. As Rabbi Akiba equated, in a sense, Torah scholars with the Almighty, he was chosen to "represent" G-d as one of the Asara Harugeh Malchut. We can now return to Rabbi Akiba's weeping upon reading the verse in Parashat Matot, "V'Hashem Yislah Lah." Rabbi Akiba knew that he represented G-d as the tenth participant in Mechirat Yosef. However, he felt comforted by Yosef's own words many years later, when he explained to his brothers that he felt no resentment toward them for what they did: "Ve'atam Hashabtem Alai Ra'a, Elokim Hashabah Le'Toba" – "You plotted evil against me, but G-d plotted for the good" (50:20). Although the brothers intended to inflict harm, their actions actually brought great blessing and good fortune, as Yosef ended up saving Egypt and the entire ancient world by predicting the seven years of famine and ordering the storage of grain during the preceding years of surplus. Rabbi Akiba thus figured that he – as a representative of Yosef's brothers – would not be held accountable for the sin of Mechirat Yosef, because it in truth turned out to be a blessing, and not a sin. However, when Rabbi Akiva read the verse "V'Hashem Yislah Lah," he wept. He then realized that even if a person's actions ended up being permissible, nevertheless, he requires atonement if he had intended to act wrongly. Rabbi Akiba thus understood that the time would come when an accounting would be made for the sin of Mechirat Yosef. As we approach the observance of Tisha B'Ab, let us all work together to rectify the sin of Mechirat Yosef by striving to be kinder, more compassionate and more forgiving. If Yosef's brothers brought calamity upon future generations through their efforts to harm Yosef, let us correct this mistake by redoubling our efforts to help and bring joy to all our brothers and sisters, even those with whom we have disagreements, and we will then be worthy of our final redemption, Amen. Thu, 09 Jul 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 a33397b0-bf36-c7f2-09b1-9e8cb1b72eda We read in Parashat Pinhas of the census taken of Beneh Yisrael at the end of their forty-year sojourn in the wilderness. The Torah lists the families of the various tribes, and in listing the families of Reuben, the Torah explains that two families – those of the brothers Datan and Abiram – were not counted, because they perished after joining Korah's revolt against Moshe Rabbenu. In this context, the Torah mentions that "U'bneh Korah Lo Metu" – Korah's sons did not die together with their father and the other rebels. Rashi, citing the Gemara (Megilla 14a), explains that Korah's sons initially participated in the uprising, but they then had thoughts of Teshuba (repentance), on account of which "Nitbaser Lahem Makom Gabo'ah Be'gehinom Ve'yashebu Sham" – " An elevated place in Gehinam was set apart for them, and they remained there." Rashi's concluding remarks – "and they remained there" – suggest that Korah's sons stayed in that "elevated place in Gehinam" for all time, and this is, indeed, the view taken by several later commentators. This is also the implication of the Midrash cited by Tosafot in Masechet Kiddushin (31b). The conventional understanding, however, is that Korah's sons remained in the underworld for a period of time and were ultimately rescued, whereupon they rejoined Beneh Yisrael. (This is perhaps evidenced by the fact that Korah's sons had descendants who sang in the Bet Ha'mikdash.) Regardless, the Lubavitcher Rebbe (Rav Menachem Mendel Schneersohn, 1902-1994) draws our attention to an important – but often overlooked – word in this passage in Rashi's commentary. Rashi did not say simply that Korah's sons participated in their father's uprising against Moshe. Rather, he writes that Korah's sons were part of this undertaking "Tehila" – right at the outset. They were among the initiators. They didn't just "go along" with the idea – they were the ones who conceived it! The Rebbe further notes Rashi's comment that during the revolt, "Hirharu Teshuba Be'libam" – Korah's sons had thoughts of repentance in their hearts. It seems clear from Rashi's formulation that Korah's sons did not repent entirely – they merely entertained thoughts of Teshuba. And yet, despite the fact that they were the instigators of this evil uprising, even their thoughts of Teshuba sufficed to save them from death. The Rebbe added that this shows us the great power of even incomplete repentance, and of even "Hirhureh Teshuba" – genuine thoughts and feelings of repentance. Even when a Jew does not change his behavior fully the way he should, but he merely thinks and reflects on how he needs to improve – these thoughts are precious and beloved by G-d. The Rebbe explained on this basis why, at one of the holiest moments of the year, as we prepare to sound the Shofar on Rosh Hashanah, we read the 47 th chapter of Tehillim, which was composed by Korah's sons – "La'menase'ah Li'bneh Korah Mizmor." Unlike Yom Kippur, Rosh Hashanah is not a time for confessing and begging G-d for forgiveness. However, during the sounding of the Shofar, we are to think "Hirhureh Teshuba," thoughts of repentance. This is a time to think seriously and somberly about our mistakes and shortcomings during the previous year, and how we wish to improve during the coming year. We therefore recite this chapter composed by Korah's sons – who devised a wicked plot to challenge Moshe Rabbenu, and yet were spared punishment because of their "Hihureh Teshuba." We are reminded of the great power of Teshuba thoughts, of the value of our genuine feelings of regret and desire to improve. Back in Parashat Korah, we read that when the ground opened to devour the leaders of the revolt and their families, the rest of the nation "Nasu Le'kolam" (16:34) – literally, "ran to their voices." This seems to mean that the people ran toward the opening in the ground where the rebels were screaming in horror, which would be very difficult to understand. Rashi avoids this problem by interpreting these words to mean that the people ran "on account of their voices," because of the shrieks that they heard. In light of what we have seen, however, there might be another understanding. After Korah's sons were saved, Beneh Yisrael ran to hear their voices, to hear them sing praise to Hashem, in order to receive inspiration from them. Korah's sons became a powerful source of motivation for all Beneh Yisrael – and for us – by showing the value of even incomplete Teshuba, how every step forward is significant and cherished by the Almighty. Indeed, Rav Moshe Wolfson (1925-2024) noted that the letters that spell the word "Le'kolam" (Lamed, Kof, Lamed, Mem) are the first letters of the words "La'menase'ah Li'bneh Korah Mizmor." Beneh Yisrael rushed to hear the beautiful praises sung by Korah's sons to be inspired and driven to work toward improvement, one small step at a time. The Rebbe cited in this context the Rambam's famous comment that "En Beneh Yisrael Nig'alin Ela Bi'Tshuba" – the redemption depends upon the Jewish People's repentance (Hilchot Teshuba 7:5). Many people wondered how this will happen. When we look at our nation today, how the majority of Jews are so distant from observance, and how even generally observant Jews face so many religious challenges which they frequently fail to withstand, how can we ever be deserving of redemption? Korah's sons provide us with the answer. They show us that even incomplete Teshuba is valuable, as long as it is sincere. Every genuine thought, feeling and action in the direction of Teshuba, every time a Jew reflects on his inadequacies and regrets his deficiencies, he has achieved something precious. Every small step toward repentance will, hopefully, lead to another, such that we can, indeed, become worthy of our final redemption, speedily and in our time, Amen. Thu, 02 Jul 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 d63bd27b-9e30-4220-4212-96a76e1e8a92 We are all familiar with the story of Moshe hitting the rock, an act for which he was punished. Less familiar, however, are the circumstances that led to Moshe's decision to strike the rock, after he was commanded to produce water by speaking to it. The background to the story is the death of Moshe's sister, the righteous prophetess Miriam, in whose merit a miraculous well provided water for Beneh Yisrael throughout the previous forty years of travel in the wilderness. This well accompanied the people, and water supernaturally flowed from it, ensuring an adequate supply of fresh water. When Miriam passed away in the final year of Beneh Yisrael's sojourn in the desert, the well dried, leaving Beneh Yisrael without water. In response to their complaints, G-d instructed Moshe to assemble the people around the rock – the rock of Miriam, which had stopped providing water – and tell it to once again produce water. Rashi (20:10) explains that after Moshe assembled the people, they argued with him, asking why he needed to produce water specifically from this rock. Surely, Hashem was capable of providing water from a different rock. They pointed to another rock, whereupon Moshe and Aharon exclaimed, "Can we extract water from this rock?!" Moshe then struck it several times, and, sure enough, water began to flow. Why did the people challenge Moshe to produce water from a different rock? Why were they not content with having Miriam's well resume its production of water? The answer is that the people thought that extracting water from a different rock would create a greater Kiddush Hashem (glorification of G-d's Name). After forty years, water flowing from Miriam's rock was no longer considered special or miraculous. Certainly, they figured, G-d's glory would be manifested much more dramatically if water was produced from a different rock. The people's motivations, then, were sincere, but they were still wrong – for the simple reason that G-d had commanded Moshe to produce water from this particular stone. Why He chose specifically this rock was not for them – or for us – to understand. They were to faithfully and humbly abide by His commands even when they did not grasp their logic, and even when different options seemed more rational. This perhaps explains the connection between this story and the preceding section in the Torah – the law of the Para Aduma ("red heifer"). This command is commonly regarded as the quintessential "Hok" – Misva whose rationale eludes our comprehension. There is no logical explanation for why slaughtering a perfectly red cow, and then burning its ashes, mixing it with water, and sprinkling the mixture on people who had become impure, should have any meaning or significance. But the Torah commands that we prepare this mixture, and that people who had come in contact with a corpse have this water sprinkled on them before they enter the Bet Ha'mikdash or eat the meat of sacrifices. This Misva, more than any other, exemplifies the notion of faithful subordination to the divine will, of obedience to Hashem's commands against our logical understanding. For good reason, then, the Torah juxtaposed the Misva of Para Aduma and the story of Moshe and the rock – because both underscore the message of surrendering our logic and reason to the will of Hashem. The lesson of this Parasha is that we must not try to be "too smart." The Torah promises that observing Shabbat brings material prosperity – even though logic dictates that working an extra day every week increases profits. We must not try to "outsmart" the Torah by thinking that keeping the business open on Shabbat will lead to greater earnings. Some mothers encourage their marriage-age daughters to stop following the requirements of modest dress to increase their chances of finding a husband. They figure that since marriage is a Misva, the right thing to do is to dress this way so they can fulfill this Misva. But this is incorrect. When G-d tells us to do something or not to do something, we need to obey even if we can come up with logical reasons not to. The intellect is a precious gift that Hashem granted us for the purpose of learning, building and achieving. At the same time, however, He demands that we suspend our logic when necessary to show our humble subservience to Him and to His will. Thu, 25 Jun 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 78ca2381-a79f-b618-6b95-3511d9c0e560 Two of the important figures in Korah's brazen uprising against Moshe were two brothers named Datan and Abiram. Interestingly, we are not told what it is that they were fighting for. Korah himself, as Rashi brings, resented the fact that his cousin was chosen over him for a prestigious leadership role (head of one of the three families of Leviyim). The 250 men who joined Korah vied for the privilege of serving as Kohanim in the Mishkan. Datan and Abiram, however, simply ridiculed Moshe. In the message they delivered to him, they accused Moshe of taking them out of Egypt – which they described as "a long flowing with milk and honey" – to die in the wilderness. But they did not say what it is that they want from him. These men had a long history with Moshe. The Sages teach us that they were the men who disobeyed Moshe's instructions regarding the manna – leaving manna over to the next morning, and going out to collect on Shabbat – and they were the ones who advocated for returning to Egypt after hearing the spies' frightening report about the nations in Eretz Yisrael. In truth, their history with Moshe goes back even earlier – to the period of bondage in Egypt. The Midrash teaches that when Moshe saw an Egyptian taskmaster beating a member of Beneh Yisrael – that was Datan. And the next day, when Moshe saw two members of Beneh Yisrael fighting – those were Datan and Abiram. Moshe saved Datan's life when he was being beaten by the Egyptian, and he then saved Abiram when he was being beaten by Datan. Yet, instead of expressing gratitude to Moshe, they betrayed him, reporting him to Pharaoh. One of the commentaries explains why they harbored such ill-will toward Moshe. The Midrash relates that the Egyptian who was beating Datan had a relationship with Datan's wife. Moshe knew of this through Ru'ah Ha'kodesh (prophetic insight). Datan and Abiram did not want this information spread, and so they first tried having Moshe killed, by reporting him to Pharaoh. When Moshe returned to Egypt many years later as the nation's leader, Datan and Abiram repeatedly disobeyed Moshe and rejected his authority, so that if he ever mentioned anything about their secret, it would not be taken seriously. This is why they seized every opportunity to oppose and ridicule Moshe – and this is why they joined Korah's uprising. Remarkably, however, even after Datan and Abiram joined Korah in his uprising against Moshe's authority, Moshe still did not give up. The Torah tells (16:12) that Moshe sent them a message, inviting them for a meeting. According to some commentators, Moshe delivered this message because he still believed that they could repent. Even after all Datan and Abiram had done wrong, despite their pattern of defiance and contempt for him – Moshe still held out hope, he still believed in their capacity for goodness. The reason, as some have explained, is that Moshe never forgot the good that Datan and Abiram once did. Back in Egypt, Datan and Abiram served as Shoterim – foremen appointed by the Egyptian taskmasters to oversee the work done by the Israelite slaves. If the slaves did not complete their quota of work, then the Shoterim would be beaten. Datan and Abiram, as sinful as they were, took the beatings rather than deal harshly with their fellow Jews. They allowed themselves to suffer the consequences of the slaves' failure to complete their quota of work. Moshe did not allow Datan and Abiram's repeated misdeeds and even personal attacks to overshadow the good that they did. He recognized their capacity for goodness – even after they challenged and defied him several times. It was only here in Parashat Korah, when they rejected his "olive branch," when they refused to even speak with him, that he despaired. This is a crucial message for parents and educators. Too often, parents and teachers see the child's misbehavior and failures, but not the child's achievements and successes. This is a mistake. While certainly standards must be enforced, it is imperative that children know that all the good they do is recognized, appreciated and respected. In today's day and age, especially, children face unprecedented spiritual challenges. The lures and distractions of today's world make it so difficult for youngsters to do the right thing, to remain religiously committed, and to succeed academically. Every success, every mitzvah , everything that youngsters do right must be enthusiastically celebrated. Whatever mistakes children make do not erase the good that they do. The more encouragement they receive, the more motivated they will be to continue working and struggling to achieve despite the challenges that they face. Thu, 18 Jun 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 895d75ae-f3f3-74f1-6e00-f3765b5df2c4 Parashat Shelah is famous for the story of Het Ha'meragelim – the sin of the spies. Moshe sent twelve men – one representative from each tribe – to survey the Land of Israel and report back to the people, and when the spies returned, they persuaded Beneh Yisrael that they could not conquer the land, for which thy were severely punished. The Torah makes a point of mentioning that before Moshe sent the spies, he renamed one of them – his faithful disciple, Hoshea – changing his name from "Hoshea" to "Yehoshua" ( 13:16). Rashi explains that Moshe gave Yehoshua this new name as a prayer that he would be protected from the sinister plot of the other spies. The name "Yehoshua" can be read as a combination of the words "Y-ah Yoshi'acha" – "G-d shall save you." This was Moshe's prayer that Yehoshua would not be influenced by his peers who would decide to speak negatively about the Land of Israel and sow despair among the nation. We must ask, why did Moshe pray on behalf of only Yehoshua? If he anticipated the likelihood that the spies would betray their mission, and seek to dissuade the people from entering into the land, then why didn't he pray that they should all be protected from this grave mistake? The Lubavitcher Rebbe (Rav Menachem Mendel Schneerson, 1902-1994) answered this question by noting Targum Yonatan Ben Uziel's translation of this verse. Targum Yonatan writes that Moshe changed Yehoshua's name because he noticed "Invatanuteh" – Yehoshua's unique humility. Somehow, Yehoshua's especially humble character necessitated this prayer, that he should be protected from sin as he embarked on this mission. The Rebbe explained that normally, one cannot pray for another's Yir'at Shamayim (fear of Heaven), that the person should do the right thing and avoid wrongdoing. The Sages famously taught us, "Ha'kol Bi'ydeh Shamayim Hutz Mi'yir'at Shamayim" – "Everything is in the hand of Heaven, except the fear of Heaven." We can and should ask Hashem for that which lies beyond our control. Religious observance, however, is our responsibility. We cannot ask Hashem to make somebody religiously committed – because he needs to motivate himself to be committed. But if so, then Moshe's prayer for his disciple is very difficult to understand. How could Moshe pray that Yehoshua do the right thing, if one cannot pray for somebody else to avoid sin? The Rebbe answered that we can pray for somebody's spiritual success if that person is already investing effort to achieve spiritual success. For example, we cannot pray to Hashem to help somebody wake up in time for Shaharit if he goes to sleep late and doesn't bother to set an alarm clock. If, however, a person who has this weakness – often failing to get up on time – makes an effort to improve, such as by going to sleep at a reasonable hour and setting an alarm clock, then it is certainly appropriate to pray that his efforts should succeed. And this is true of all areas of religious life – once a person is making a genuine effort to succeed, then he – and others – can pray that those efforts should bring the desired results. With this in mind, we can return to Yehoshua and the spies. The Rebbe explains that Moshe sent the spies on a fact-finding mission. Their job was to objectively report the information, to tell what they saw, without giving any interpretation or offering an opinion based on that information. It was their job to determine the facts – and it was Moshe's job, and only Moshe's job, to reach decisions based on those facts. The spies' sin was arrogantly usurping Moshe's role. After they reported the facts, they gave their assessment about the prospects of capturing Eretz Yisrael – an assessment which wasn't theirs to make. They decided that their opinion was more important and more authoritative than that of Moshe Rabbenu – and this was their sin. Before Moshe sent the spies, he was well aware of this danger. He knew of the natural tendency that people have to form opinions about things which are for the experts to decide, to assume they know better, to feel overly confident in their perspectives, their ideas and their impressions. But he could pray only for Yehoshua – because he saw that Yehoshua worked on his quality of humility. Upon seeing how Yehoshua made a conscious effort to remain humble, Moshe prayed that these efforts should succeed, that Yehoshua would remain humble and not overstep his bounds. Moshe could not pray for the other spies, because he did not see them working on their Midda (quality) of humility. He therefore prayed only for Yehoshua, his student who worked to live humbly, asking that these efforts should protect him from the arrogant tendency to give opinions that shouldn't be given. Thu, 11 Jun 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 598e15bd-f12f-5bd1-3592-c636d283ab2a The Torah commands in Parashat Beha'alotecha (10:9) that when Beneh Yisrael are compelled to fight a war against an enemy, "Va'hare'otem Ba'hasoserot" – they must sound trumpets. The Rambam, in the beginning of Hilchot Ta'aniyot, understands this verse as a more general command to pray to G-d during times of crisis. The Torah speaks of a war against "Ha'sar Ha'sorer Etchem" ("the enemy who terrorizes you"), and the Rambam interprets the word "Sar" to mean any form of "Sara" – trouble, or crisis. Whenever we face some kind of danger, we are obligated to turn to Hashem in prayer. Nowadays, when we do not have the special "Hasoserot," the Misva to turn to G-d in prayer remains. It must be emphasized that the Rambam here does not merely advise us – or even urge us – to turn to Hashem in times of crisis. Rather, he presents this as an outright obligation, as Misvat Aseh – a Biblical command. The Torah requires us to pray to G-d for help when crisis befalls us. The reason for this obligation is that Hashem brings us crises specifically to draw our minds and hearts toward Him. Over the course of our busy lives, with all the countless responsibilities and pressures that we have, we can very easily forget about G-d. We might not be as mindful as we should be of how He is caring for us at all times, of how He is providing us with all our needs, of our obligations towards Him, and of the importance of cultivating a deep bond with Him. When crisis strikes, we must realize that Hashem is knocking on our doors, so-to-speak, calling for our attention, asking us to devote more attention to Him. The Hebrew word for "world" is "Olam," which is derived from the word "Ne'elam" – "concealed," or "hidden." G-d created the world as a place where His presence is not always apparent, where He remains concealed, where things appear to run randomly according to the laws of nature. Our challenge is to look beyond the "concealment" and to recognize that He is governing all events – both globally and individually, from behind the veil of the natural order. During times of hardship, the Rambam is telling us, our obligation is to look behind the veil, to turn our attention to Hashem. If we focus only on the practical measures that we must take to address the problem, without turning to G-d in heartfelt prayer, then we are missing the point. On the national level, too, when the Jewish People are in crisis, this is Hashem calling for our attention. We of course owe an enormous debt of gratitude to the courageous soldiers and all those working to protect us from our bitter enemies, who are G-d's messengers sent to safeguard His beloved children. But alongside our appreciation for the messengers – we mustn't forget the One who sent them. In times of crisis – personal or national – let's ensure not to miss the point, and to direct our attention toward Hashem in prayer and repentance. Thu, 04 Jun 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 53ca5356-5404-f81f-c3df-74b19641e30d Parashat Naso is famous for being the longest Parasha in the entire Torah, as it consists of 176 verses. Not coincidentally, this is also the number of verses in the longest chapter of Tehillim (119), and the number of pages in the longest Masechet in the Talmud, Masechet Baba Batra. The unique significance of this number is revealed to us by the Maharal of Prague (Rav Yehuda Loew, d. 1609). He begins by establishing what has become a well-known principle regarding the number 8 – namely, that it signifies the notion of extending beyond the confines of nature. The world was created in seven days – and, in the teachings of Kabbalah, through the process of the seven Sefirot, spiritual energies – and so the number 7 represents the natural order. The number 8, then, alludes to that which is beyond the limits of nature. Thus, for example, the Berit Mila is performed on a child's eighth day, indicating that we are expected to restrain our natural impulses, to live on a higher plane, where our sacred soul controls our natural body. Likewise, the Maharal explains, the seven lamps of the Menorah in the Bet Ha'mikdash symbolize the natural world – and behind the curtain in the Mikdash there was the eighth "light," the Torah. The sacred Aron (ark) contained the Torah, and it was thus called "Aron," a derivative of the word "Or" – "light." The Torah shines its own form of light – not a natural light that enables us to see with our eyes, but a spiritual light that reaches our souls, and uplifts and inspires us. The Torah is written with the 22 letters of the Hebrew alphabet, the Maharal writes, and when we multiply 22 by 8, we arrive at 176. This number, then, is associated with Torah's supernatural quality, its having originated outside our world, reminding us that it is through the study of Torah that we can extend beyond the confines of our world and connect ourselves to Hashem and to all the powers that lie outside our world. For this reason, the longest Parasha, the longest chapter of Tehillim, and the long section of the Gemara are all connected with this number, as they embody the great power of Torah. This unique power, which is associated with the number 176, also enables us to overcome our foes. Kabbalah teaches that the greatest spiritual force that threatens Beneh Yisrael is represented by one of the grandsons of Esav, a man named Sefo (Tzadi, Peh, Vav), whose name is listed among the twelve chieftains of Edom, the nation that descended from Esav (Bereshit 36:15). The Ramban cites the historian Josephus as relating that Sefo was a fierce enemy of Yaakob Abinu and his family, and when Yaakob's sons brought his remains from Egypt to Hebron for burial in Me'arat Ha'machpela, Sefo and his men waged war against them. However, Yaakob's sons prevailed, captured Sefo, and brought him as a prisoner to Egypt. Sefo would later escape and make his way to what would become Rome, and he is thus the founder of the kingdom of Rome, the bitter enemy of the Jewish People. According to the wisdom of Kabbalah, Sefo represents the spiritual force of our wicked enemies who wage war against us and seek our demise. The Ben Ish Hai (Rav Yosef Haim of Baghdad, 1833-1909) taught that the way we defeat the power of Sefo is through the power of Torah. Indeed, the name "Sefo" in Gematria equals 176 – and we thus overcome his force through the power of Torah, which is represented by that same number. This is why Sefo waged war at that time of Yaakob Abinu's funeral – because he knew that the greatest power Beneh Yisrael possess is the power of Torah, which was embodied by Yaakob. Sefo sought to fight Beneh Yisrael at that time to neutralize this power so he could defeat them – but the power of Yaakob, the power of Torah, prevailed. The Shabbat when we read Parashat Naso – especially coming on the heels of Shabuot, when we renewed our acceptance of the Torah – is an appropriate occasion to remind ourselves of the unique power of Torah learning. As we see the alarming rise of antisemitism around the world, and as the Jewish State finds itself in the midst of a difficult war against its fierce, evil enemies, let us recommit ourselves to Torah learning. Let us all ensure that we are devoting the time and effort that we should to learn, so that we can harness the great power of Torah with which to overcome our nation's bitter foes. Thu, 28 May 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 d9eaeee2-dd0b-75c1-8275-65f2ae80e41a Numerous reasons have been given for the time-honored, cherished custom to eat dairy foods on Shabuot. One of the lesser-known explanations is that offered by the Rama (Rav Moshe Isserles, Poland, 1530-1572), in his glosses to the Shulhan Aruch (Orah Haim 494). Interestingly enough, the custom the Rama describes is to eat a dairy meal followed by a meat meal. As Halacha forbids using the same loaf of bread for a dairy meal and a meat meal, eating these two meals necessitates the use of two separate loaves. These two loaves, the Rama writes, commemorate the special Shabuot sacrifice, which, as the Torah commands in the Book of Vayikra ( 23:17), consisted of two loaves of bread, and was thus named Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem (the "two-breads sacrifice"). We might wonder why, according to the Rama, no such commemoration is made for a similar sacrifice brought on the second day of Pesach. The Korban Ha'omer was offered from the newly-harvested barley on the 16 th of Nissan, and it paralleled the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem brought on Shabuot. The Mishna (Menahot 68b) teaches that each of these two sacrifices functioned as a "Matir" – meaning, it made something permissible. The Korban Ha'omer made it permissible to eat from the newly-harvested crops, and the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem made it permissible to offer Menahot (grain offerings) in the Bet Ha'mikdash from the newly-harvested crop. Meaning, although it was permissible to eat from the new grain after the offering of the Korban Ha'omer on the 16 th of Nissan, it remained forbidden to bring a meal-offering in the Temple from the new grain until the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem was brought on Shabuot. Seemingly, if – as the Rama writes – we make a commemoration on Shabuot for the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem, then we should also make a commemoration on the second day of Pesach for the Korban Ha'omer. Why don't we? The answer lies is a fundamental distinction between these two sacrifices. This distinction is expressed in a comment by the Sefat Emet (Rav Yehuda Aryeh Leib of Ger, Poland, 1847-1905) discussing a situation where, for whatever reason, the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem was not brought on Shabuot. When it comes to the Korban Ha'omer on Pesach, the Sages inferred from a verse that the new grain becomes permissible for consumption after the 16 th of Nissan even if the sacrifice was not offered. Although the sacrifice is what permits the new grain, if there was no sacrifice, the grain becomes permissible after that day. One might have thought that since no such textual inference was made in regard to the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem, the new grain remains forbidden for use with Menahot if this sacrifice is not offered. (This is, indeed, the view taken by the Minhat Hinuch, Siman 307.) The Sefat Emet, however, writes that this is not so. He explains that the Torah does not actually forbid using the new grain for sacrifices before the offering of the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem. Rather, it requires that the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem must be the first sacrifice brought from the new crop. This sacrifice is called a "Minha Hadasha" – "a new grain offering," because it was the first grain offering prepared with the newly-harvested wheat. This is the only reason why sacrifices may not be brought from the new crop before Shabuot – because the special Shabuot offering must be the first sacrifice brought from the new grain. Naturally, then, if – for whatever reason – this sacrifice was not brought, sacrifices may nevertheless be brought from the new crop after Shavuot. This understanding of the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem points to a fundamental distinction between this sacrifice and the Korban Ha'omer on Pesach. The Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem is not actually a "Matir." Its function is not to permit wheat for use with sacrifices. It is offered as part of the celebration of Shabuot, which is called "Yom Ha'bikkurim" (Bamidbar 28:26) – the day of the new produce, when the first portion of newly-harvested wheat is brought as a sacrifice. The Korban Ha'omer, by contrast, is not inherently linked to Pesach. It happens to coincide with Pesach, but it has nothing inherently to do with this holiday. The Torah commanded offering this sacrifice on the 16 th of Nissan to permit eating the new crop, but this offering is not part of the observance of Pesach. This is seen clearly in the Rambam's rulings regarding the distribution of these sacrifices among the Kohanim. Generally speaking, the portions of a sacrifice given to the Kohanim were distributed only among the Kohanim who were "on duty" when the sacrifice was offered. However, the special Yom Tov sacrifices were distributed among any Kohen who wanted a portion, even if the Yom Tov was not during his "shift." In Hilchot Temidin U'musafin, the Rambam writes that the Korban Ha'omer was treated like a regular sacrifice – given only to the Kohanim who were "on duty" that day – but the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem was distributed among all the Kohanim, as it is a Yom Tov sacrifice. This clearly shows that the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem is part of the celebration of Shabuot, whereas the Korban Ha'omer is not part of the celebration of Pesach. This easily explains why, according to the Rama, we make a commemoration of the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem on Shabuot, but make no similar commemoration of the Korban Ha'omer on Pesach. Since the Korban Sheteh Ha'lehem was an integral part of the Yom Tob of Shabuot in the times of the Bet Ha'mikdash, it warrants a commemoration now, when we cannot offer the sacrifice. The Korban Ha'omer, by contrast, was not an integral part of the Pesach celebration, and so it does not warrant a commemoration nowadays. Thu, 21 May 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 9098b8b6-4ea1-26a7-d72b-6adb229f036e The Midrash teaches that the five Humashim – the books that comprise the Torah – are alluded to in the opening verses of the Torah, which tell of the creation of light on the first day of the world's creation. The word "Or" (light) appears five times in these verses, and they parallel the five Humashim. It follows, then, that the fourth Humash – the Book of Bamidbar, which we begin reading this Shabbat – corresponds to the fourth instance of the word "Or" in these verses: "Va'yabdel Elokim Beh Ha'or U'ben Ha'hoshech" – "G-d separated between light and the darkness" (1:4). What might be the connection between the Book of Bamidbar and the "separation" between light and darkness? The Netziv (Rav Naftali Zvi Yehuda Berlin of Volozhin, 1816-1893) offers a fascinating answer, by explaining the primary theme of Sefer Bamidbar. This book, he writes, traces Beneh Yisrael's transition from a miraculous existence to a natural existence. The book begins at Mount Sinai, in the desert, where Beneh Yisrael relied on G-d's miracles in order to survive. They received the manna from the heavens, and water from a supernatural well that accompanied them as they traveled. The Ananeh Ha'kabod ("clouds of glory") protected them from the elements and from enemy attack. Beneh Yisrael journeyed for forty years in a region that was ordinarily uninhabitable, under Hashem's miraculous care and protection. At the end of Sefer Bamidbar, Beneh Yisrael find themselves on the border of the Land of Israel, nearly ready to cross into the land. There they would live a natural existence – fighting wars against enemies, growing crops, building cities, and developing an economy. Of course, this natural existence would require G-d's intervention; even when leading a natural lifestyle, nothing can succeed without Hashem's help. But once they crossed into the land, Beneh Yisrael were no longer cared for miraculously; they lived in accordance with the laws of nature. This is why at the end of the Book of Bamidbar, Beneh Yisrael take up arms and fight wars. They begin preparations for the battles to conquer the land, and for the division of the land. After living a miraculous existence for forty years, they now needed to transition to a natural mode of existence. The Netziv explains that this is why Sefer Bamidbar is associated with the "separation" between light and darkness. Light symbolizes G-d's open miracles, which make His control of the world unmistakably clear and evident. By contrast, darkness symbolizes the veil of the natural world, which conceals the Hand of Providence. When nature follows its course, we do not see Hashem, though we must firmly believe that He controls all events, random and natural as they might outwardly seem. Just as darkness makes it difficult to see that which we know exists, nature makes it difficult to see Hashem's control and governance, but we know that He is behind everything and orchestrating everything that happens. Hence, Sefer Bamidbar is associated with the distinction between light and darkness – because it signifies Beneh Yisrael's transition from a supernatural existence to a natural one. The Netziv explains on this basis why the Sages calls Sefer Bamidbar "Humash Ha'pekduim" – the "Book of Countings," which later evolved into the name, "Numbers." This name refers to two censuses of Beneh Yisrael that were taken in Sefer Bamidbar. We might wonder, why are these events viewed as the primary theme and essence of this book? So much happens in the Book of Bamidbar – why would the Sages focus on the two occasions when the people were counted when choosing a name for this book? The answer, the Netziv writes, is that the two censuses signify the transition that Beneh Yisrael underwent over the course of this Sefer. The first census was conducted for the purpose of arranging Beneh Yisrael's camp around the Mishkan in the desert, whereas the second was conducted to prepare for the apportioning of the territory of Eretz Yisrael among the tribes. The difference between these two censuses reflects the difference between the "light" and the "darkness," between the miraculous existence in the desert, and the natural existence in Eretz Yisrael. Therefore, this Sefer is indeed "Humash Ha'pekudim," a book of "countings," because the two countings demonstrate the transition that constitutes the essence of this book, the transition from the miracles of the desert to life in Eretz Yisrael, where G-d cares for and protects us not overly, but behind the veil of the laws of nature. Thu, 14 May 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 993cf2a0-ec47-88b3-d7a6-e5780434034d In the opening verses of Parashat Behukotai, the Torah promises great reward "Im Be'hukotai Telechu" – "If you follow My statutes." Rashi, in one of the more famous passages in his Torah commentary, writes that this phrase does not actually refer to Misva observance. After all, the very next words of the verse are "Ve'et Misvotai Tishmeru" – "and you observe My commands." Necessarily, then, the phrase "Im Be'hukotai Telechu" must denote something other than the performance of Misvot. Rashi therefore explains that it means "She'tiheyu Amelim Ba'Torah" – "that you are toiling in Torah." Many have noted that Rashi speaks here not of the study of Torah, but rather of "Amelut" – toil, hard work and exertion, investing a great deal of effort to learn. The importance of "Amelut" can be seen already in the events surrounding Matan Torah, the giving of the Torah at Sinai, which we will soon commemorate on the festival of Shabuot. The Gemara (Shabbat 88a) teaches that "Kafa Alehem Har Ke'gigit" – G-d lifted Mount Sinai and suspended it over Beneh Yisrael, threatening to annihilate them if they did not accept the Torah. They were not given a choice; they were coerced into accepting G-d's will. Many have raised the question of how to reconcile the Gemara's teaching with the Torah's account of Matan Torah, which tells that Beneh Yisrael willingly and excitedly accepted the Torah even before being informed of what it entails, enthusiastically pronouncing, "Na'aseh Ve'nishma" – "We will do and we will hear" (Shemot 24:7). If they happily announced their commitment to the Torah, then why did G-d need to threaten them and force the Torah upon them? A number of commentators answered that Beneh Yisrael committed willingly to the Torah She'bi'chtab – the written Torah, but not to the Torah She'be'al Peh – the oral law, which was eventually written into what we know as the Mishna. Coercion was necessary to force them to accept even the Torah She'be'al Peh. Why would Beneh Yisrael agree to the written Torah, but not to the oral halachic tradition? We might draw a comparison to a person who wants to stay fit and keep healthy without having to exercise. Instead of working out in the gym, he just wants a pill that he could take that would keep him thin and in shape no matter what or how much he eats, or how little he moves... Similarly, Beneh Yisrael were excited about accepting the Torah – but they didn't want to have to work for it. They wanted to be given a simple, straightforward, easy-to-read text that explained to them very clearly and succinctly what they needed to do. They wanted the instructions spoon-fed to them, presented to them in a lucid, organized fashion. But this is not how the Torah is meant to be learned. The Gemara (Kiddushin 30b) teaches that Torah study is the "antidote" to the Yeser Ha'ra (evil inclination). We overcome our negative tendencies and sinful impulses by immersing ourselves in Torah, by intensively applying ourselves and exerting effort to learn. If the Torah would be spoon-fed, it would not have this effect of empowering us against the Yeser Ha'ra. This requires "Amelut" – hard work and struggle. In fact, even when Rabbi Yehuda Ha'nasi wrote down the Oral Law, seeing that this was necessary to ensure its survival, he intentionally made the text ambiguous and difficult to understand. He maintained the delicate balance between making the material accessible and necessitating effort to comprehend it. "Amelut" is crucial to the process of Torah learning, as it is only through hard work that we achieve the spiritual benefits of Torah study, the strength to defeat the Yeser Ha'ra in its various forms. As we saw, Rashi explains the phrase "Im Be'hukotai Telechu" as a reference to exertion in Torah study. He perhaps read the word "Be'hukotai" ("My statutes") as alluding to the rules of interpreting the Torah text, the thirteen "Middot She'ha'Torah Nidreshet Bahem" – methods by which the Sages extracted Halachot from the written Torah, as listed by Rabbi Yishmael, and as we recite in our prayers each morning. These thirteen rules of interpretation represent the difference between a clear, lucid body of text, and a difficult text that can be understood only with rigorous study and analysis. We are promised reward not for simply learning Torah – but for investing the effort to learn "Be'hukotai," to study the Sages' intricate, complex discussions of the Torah text and their derivation of Halacha from its words. As we prepare for the celebration of Shabuot, let us commit to not only learn Torah – but to toil in Torah, to invest effort, so we can reap all the precious spiritual benefits that it offers us. Thu, 07 May 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 a04aa0ae-0251-259d-499d-9e39b6517306 Parashat Emor concludes with the disturbing story of the "Megadef," the individual who publicly blasphemed G-d. The man was brought before Moshe, and Hashem informed Moshe that blasphemy is a capital crime, and this individual must therefore be put to death. Rashi (24:10) brings different explanations for what drove the "Megadef" to blaspheme G-d. One approach is that he had found himself on the losing side of an unfortunate legal dispute. The background to this dispute dates back to Beneh Yisrael's period of slavery in Egypt, when this man's mother was desired by an Egyptian man, and he schemed to have an illicit relationship with her. The "Megadef" was the product of this forbidden union. As such, he did not legally belong to his mother's tribe, the tribe of Dan. When he tried pitching his tent in Dan's territory, he was taken to court, and he lost the case. Since his father was an Egyptian, he did not have legal rights to territory among the people of Dan. This background to the story perhaps explains a subtle nuance in Hashem's instructions to Moshe. After commanding that the "Megadef" must be given capital punishment, G-d told Moshe that this is the law for all blasphemers. He said: "Ish Ish Ki Yekalel Elokav Ve'nasa Het'o" – "Any person who blasphemes his G-d shall bear his sin" (24:15). Curiously, G-d here repeats the word "Ish" ("person"), perhaps suggesting that He refers to two different people. The explanation might be that Hashem was alluding to the two guilty parties in this tragic story. True, the "Megadef" himself committed a grievous offense for which he needed to be severely punished, but the other party, the person who fought against him, also shared a not-insignificant share of the guilt. Certainly, his insensitivity and decision to pursue legal action in no way justified the blasphemy spoken by the "Megadef," because even when we endure hardship and suffer hostility, we are expected to maintain our composure and our faith in Hashem. Nevertheless, the other party to this dispute cannot be excused for angering the "Megadef" and leading him to this grave sin. Hashem thus told Moshe, "Ish Ish Ki Yekalel Elokav Ve'nasa Het'o" – both parties bear a degree of guilt in the case of blasphemy, because provoking a person and turning a resolvable situation into a fight – even if this does not justify the other party's extreme reaction – is wrong. Not every fight that can be fought should be fought. In fact, in the vast majority of situations, fights should not be fought. Being right does not make fighting the right decision. And so very often, both parties are guilty, because even the party that is technically correct was wrong for pursuing the matter and fighting about it. Thu, 30 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 22e1251a-a5b9-5d0d-4d23-39cf07577570 In one of the most famous – and most misquoted – verses in the Torah, we are commanded in Parashat Kedoshim (19:18), "Ve'ahabta Le're'acha Kamocha' – "You shall love your fellow as yourself." I say "misquoted" because the command does not conclude with the word "Kamocha" ("as yourself"). The verse continues, "Ani Hashem" – "I am G-d." It stands to reason that the pronouncement "Ani Hashem" constitutes part of the definition of this command, and informs us about the kind of love that we are to feel toward our fellow. The Meshech Hochma (Rav Meir Simcha Ha'kohen of Dvinsk, 1843-1926) offers several explanations of this command, and for why the Torah adds, "Ani Hashem." One approach he suggests is that we are to love our fellow in the same manner that we are commanded to love Hashem. It goes without saying that we cannot see G-d, and we cannot perceive Him directly with any of our senses. Nevertheless, we are to strive to love Hashem, knowing that He is infinitely great, compassionate, kind and merciful. We are to long for a relationship with Him and to understand Him even though we cannot see Him with our eyes. This is true also of the love we are to feel and show to our fellow Jews. This love must not be dependent upon our experiences with them, or upon what we know about them. Just as we believe in Hashem's greatness even though we cannot see Him directly, similarly, we are to firmly believe in the greatness of Am Yisrael, in the precious value of our fellow Jew, even if we cannot see it. The Torah therefore adds, "Ani Hashem" – indicating that we must love our fellow Jews the way we love Hashem. This requires us, first and foremost, to feel love and concern even for Jews whom we've never met, and whom we know nothing about. When we hear that a Jew is in need in a different part of the world, then we must do what we can to help, and pray for that person, even though we know nothing about him or her. But additionally, this means that we are to love our fellow Jews whom we know but are not particularly impressed with, or don't particularly like. Just as we must love Hashem even though He occasionally does things which appear harsh and to our detriment, firmly believing in His goodness, we must similarly believe in the goodness of all our fellow Jews, even if we cannot see it. We are to recognize that although all people are flawed, every person has a precious soul and is worthy of our genuine love and respect. The Misva of "Ve'ahabta Le're'acha Kamocha," then, requires us to believe in the greatness of each of our fellow Jews irrespective of our experiences with them, and to thereby arouse our feelings of love toward them. Thu, 23 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 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