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ב"ה

Shabbat Musings

Today

We jump on planes so casually. We get on in one place and a few hours later step off somewhere completely different, often thinking more about the delay, the cramped seat, or how long it is taking to get our luggage than about the wonder of what just happened. On my last flight, a family boarded alongside me with several children who had never flown before. Their excitement was bubbling over. They wanted to see everything and understand everything. As I watched them, I turned to the person next to me and said that all I had been thinking about was our hour delay. Somewhere along the way, what was extraordinary had become ordinary.

In this week’s Torah portion, Ki Tavo, Moshe tells the Jewish people, “Pay attention and listen, Israel! Today you have become a people to Hashem, your G-d.” Why “today”? The Jewish people had already entered into a covenant with Hashem. Our sages explain that these words teach us to experience our relationship with Hashem as though it is being formed anew each day. Not as something inherited from yesterday, but as something fresh and alive today. This idea takes on even greater meaning as we approach Rosh Hashanah, when we renew our bond with Hashem and celebrate the creation of Adam and of the world itself. In a sense, creation begins again, and so can we.

The countdown to Rosh Hashanah is on, with less than three weeks to go. Perhaps part of preparing is simply learning to see with fresh eyes again. We become accustomed to so much in our lives, our families, our blessings, our Judaism, even our relationship with Hashem. Like boarding an airplane, we can forget how remarkable it all really is. Rosh Hashanah reminds us that we are not trapped by yesterday’s habits or yesterday’s perspective. The world is being created anew, our relationship with Hashem is being renewed, and we are invited to renew ourselves along with it. Maybe this year we can bring back a little of that childlike wonder and recognize the extraordinary hiding inside the things we have come to see as ordinary.

 

Personal Battle

Sending a child off into the world brings with it a mix of emotions. This week, as my son leaves for yeshiva and my daughter leaves to spend a year in Israel studying, I find myself feeling the pride of watching them take these next steps, together with that little ache that comes when our children begin to build lives beyond the walls of home. We spend years raising them, teaching them, guiding them, packing their lunches, and being there for the big things and the countless little things along the way. And then, slowly, we begin to send them out into the world. There is something powerful about watching our children leave the comfort and familiarity of home in order to devote themselves to something greater, to Torah, growth, and becoming the people they are meant to be.

This week’s Torah portion, Ki Teitzei, begins with the verse, “When you go out to war against your enemies.” The Torah is speaking about an actual war, but our sages also understand these words as describing the personal battles each of us faces. Maimonides describes the extraordinary mindset of a Jewish soldier. Once he enters battle, he puts aside his personal concerns and focuses completely on the greater purpose for which he is fighting. How can an ordinary person rise so completely above himself? Chassidut explains that deep within every Jew is a G-dly soul that is not limited by our individual wants, fears, or comforts. We are called “the army of G-d” because each of us has the ability to tap into that place within ourselves and live for something larger than our own immediate needs.

Most of our battles do not look like battles. They are the quiet choices we make every day between comfort and growth, between what feels easy and what we know matters. Sometimes we are sending our children off to yeshiva or to a year of learning in Israel, and sometimes we are the ones being asked to step beyond what is familiar. Life is not only about protecting our own little world. We are each part of something much bigger, with a purpose that stretches far beyond ourselves. When we connect to that purpose, we discover strength we may not have known we had, the courage to leave what is comfortable, move forward, and become a little more of who we were meant to be.

Man is like a Tree

Close your eyes for a moment and think back to when you were a child. What did you wish for? What did you hope for? What did you dream you would become? Childhood is near and dear to my heart, and as we begin a new school year, our 20th year, I find myself thinking about those early years and how much they shape who we become. Every day, I have the privilege of helping nurture children, creating a sense of connection and security, and planting the values of Torah deep within them. The world they are growing into is changing faster than we could ever have imagined. We cannot know exactly what their future will look like, but we can give them strong roots so they are ready to grow wherever life takes them.

In this week’s Torah portion, Shoftim, the Torah tells us, “Man is a tree of the field.” A tree has roots that anchor and nourish it, a trunk and branches that grow upward and outward, and fruit that carries its seeds into the future. Chassidus teaches that we have these same three dimensions within ourselves. Our roots are our faith, the deep connection to Hashem that gives us strength and keeps us grounded. The trunk and branches represent the way we develop intellectually, emotionally, and through the choices and mitzvot that fill our lives. And then there is the fruit. Our fruit is what we give to others, the seeds we plant through our words, our example, and the values we pass on to the next generation.

We spend so much time preparing children for the future, but perhaps the greatest gift we can give them is something timeless. Strong roots. When a child knows who they are, where they come from, and that they are deeply loved and connected to Hashem, they have an anchor that no changing world can take away. And when we nurture those roots with love, security, Torah, and faith, we are doing more than raising a child for today. We are planting seeds for generations we may never meet and fruit we may never see, trusting that what we lovingly plant today will continue to grow long into the future.

Treasured

There are moments in Jewish life that never lose their magic. This week we traveled to Camp Gan Israel, in the Laurentians, Quebec to be with our dear Aharon as he reached a beautiful new milestone. Our custom is to begin putting on tefillin two months before a boy’s Bar Mitzvah, giving him time to become familiar with this precious mitzvah before the big day arrives. Watching Aharon wrap tefillin for the very first time, surrounded by his camp friends, was one of those moments that fills your heart to overflowing. It was more than learning a new ritual. It was watching another link in an unbroken chain stretching back thousands of years.

In this week’s Torah portion, Re’eh, Moshe reminds the Jewish people that they are an Am Segulah, a treasured nation. “For you are a holy people to Hashem your G-d, and Hashem has chosen you to be His treasured people.” This is not something we earn through our achievements. It is an essential bond that every Jew shares with Hashem simply because we are His children. We are holy, we are treasured, and we are chosen. Chassidus explains that our connection to Hashem is not based on what we accomplish, but on who we are. That bond gives every one of us a unique mission and the ability to bring holiness into the world through our mitzvot and the way we live each day. Our relationship with Hashem is woven into the very essence of who we are.

Watching Aharon proudly put on tefillin reminded me that being chosen is not a title. It is a responsibility. We wear our tefillin with pride. We light Shabbat candles. We make blessings over our food. We further Jewish education. Sometimes standing out is not easy, but our greatest strength has never come from blending in. History has shown time and again that when we abandon our distinct identity, we lose the very source of our continuity. Our strength comes from embracing who we are and the mission Hashem has entrusted to us. Never forget that you are treasured. You are chosen. And you were placed in this world to accomplish something that only you can.

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