Together: The Test of Our Generation

We are living through exceptional times—times that future generations will one day study as a turning point in Jewish history. We are witnessing events that pierce the heart and stir the soul. Rabbi Paul Bloom explains.

On one hand, we are surrounded by heartbreak and horror—unspeakable atrocities committed against Am Yisrael, acts that defy comprehension. The suffering of individuals, families, and communities has reached depths that words cannot capture. And yet, within this darkness, something extraordinary has emerged: the radiant light of unity. Across Israel and throughout the Jewish world, Am Yisrael has come together in a spirit of generosity, volunteering, and love unlike anything many of us have ever witnessed. The strength of this unity—the achdut of the Jewish people—has become a wellspring of hope and resilience for our nation.

Three Words That Define Our Strength

This unity has deep roots. It is embedded in three words that appear in the Torah’s description of the supreme test of faith in Jewish history—the Akeidat Yitzchak, the Binding of Isaac. What are these words? The Torah tells us: “Vayelchu sheneihem yachdav”—And the two of them went together (Bereishit 22:6). Father and son, Avraham and Yitzchak, walking side by side toward the greatest test of their lives. Each knew that something incomprehensible was about to occur, yet they went together—united in faith, in purpose, and in an eternal bond.

The Akeidah was a test of emunah that stretched the limits of human endurance. Yet, as the Zohar teaches, it was not only Avraham who was tested—it was also Yitzchak. And in some ways, the test for Yitzchak was even greater. Avraham heard directly the Devar Hashem—the clear word of God. As a prophet, he had absolute certainty of what he was commanded to do. Yitzchak, however, did not. He heard the command only through his father. His faith was not just in God—but in his father, in mesorah, in the unbroken chain of transmission that defines our people. That, says the Zohar, was the moment when the foundations of Torah sheb’al Peh, the Oral Torah, were laid. For Yitzchak’s trust in his father mirrors our trust in the sages, in the chain of mesorah through which we hear the word of God echoed across generations. “Vayelchu sheneihem yachdav”—they went together: faith transmitted, unity forged, generations bound in all eternity.

A Covenant Misplaced

But the Akeidah has another dimension, one that carries a painful contemporary relevance. The Torah introduces the episode with the words, “Achar hadevarim ha’eileh”—“After these things” (Bereishit 22:1).   After which things? The Midrash and classic commentaries, including the Rashbam and the Ralbag, explain that the Akeidah followed a significant episode—Avraham’s covenant with Avimelech, the Philistine king.

Avimelech ruled over Eretz Pelishtim, the coastal strip of the Land of Israel—what we know today as the Gaza region. Avraham entered into a covenant with him, promising peaceful coexistence and effectively conceding part of the land of Israel. But, says the Rashbam, this was a mistake. The land had been promised to Avraham’s descendants by God Himself. It was not Avraham’s to give away, even as a gesture of diplomacy or goodwill.

The Midrash Tanchuma teaches that as a result, Avraham’s descendants suffered for generations. When Yehoshua later entered the Land of Israel, he was unable to conquer the territory of Eretz Pelishtim—Ashdod, Ashkelon, Ekron, and Gaza—because of that covenant. It remained unconquered for centuries until the days of King David.

In this light, the Akeidah was not only a test of faith—it was also a form of atonement, a painful consequence of Avraham’s earlier misjudgment. He had trusted in a political covenant rather than in the eternal covenant of God.

A Lesson for Our Generation

We, too, have witnessed the tragic results of yielding parts of our land in pursuit of peace. The withdrawal from Gush Katif and the Gaza Strip was done with hopes of security and coexistence. Yet the bitter reality that has unfolded since then echoes the words of our sages: Eretz Yisrael cannot be secured through covenants with those who deny its divine promise. The lesson of the Akeidah is clear. The future of Am Yisrael does not depend on treaties or fences—it depends on faith, on courage, and on unity.

Our Test: Going Together

Just as Avraham and Yitzchak faced their supreme trial “together”, so too must we face ours. The unprecedented unity we witnessed over the past two years—families opening their homes to evacuees, soldiers risking their lives for their brothers, Jews around the world giving, praying, and standing with Israel—is the modern echo of “Vayelchu sheneihem yachdav.” Through our shared acts of kindness, our tefillot, our mitzvot, and our collective resolve, we are weaving the spiritual armor that protects Am Yisrael. Every mitzvah, every gesture of solidarity, every prayer for our soldiers, for those held hostage and their families builds unseen walls of protection—malachim born from unity and faith.

May the zechut of our togetherness—our faith and our unity—bring safety to our soldiers and comfort to the bereaved. And may the light of “Vayelchu sheneihem yachdav” continue to guide Am Yisrael toward redemption—together.

Are we Listening?

God gave the message. Avram heard and responded positively. But are we listening as attentively as our illustrious forebear?  Rabbi Paul Bloom explains.

The central theme of this week’s Torah portion, Lech Lecha, is the command for Avram to leave his homeland and journey to Eretz Yisrael, the land that Hashem promised to show him. The words "לךְ־לְךָ מֵאַרְצְךָ וּמִמּוֹלַדְתְּךָ וּמִבֵּית אָבִיךָ אֶל הָאָרֶץ אֲשֶׁר אַרְאֶךָ" (“Go forth from your land, from your birthplace and from your father’s house, to the land that I will show you”) are the very first mitzvah ever given to a Jew. Rav Meir Yechiel of Ostrovtza points out that Hashem could have begun Judaism with any number of commands. Yet the first message to Avram, the first Jew, was to leave his familiar surroundings and settle in the special land that Hashem chose.

Why did Hashem choose this as the foundational mitzvah? R. Yehudah HaLevi, in Sefer HaKuzari, explains that Avram, already the most righteous person of his generation, had reached a spiritual level where he was ready to connect with the Divine in an even deeper way. Eretz Yisrael, the land uniquely suited for spiritual perfection, was the only place where Avram could reach his full potential. Even though Avram had already attained a high level of closeness to God outside of Eretz Yisrael, Hashem knew that only in the Land could he fully realize his destiny.

Avram’s life in chutz la’Aretz was not lacking in purpose. He was discovering Hashem, fighting against idolatry, teaching monotheism, and performing acts of kindness—just as many Jews in the diaspora today raise families, run businesses, study Torah, and lead communities. However, Hashem told Avram, “All this is good, but you are doing it in the wrong place. In My special land, you will achieve so much more.” The message of Lech Lecha is that Hashem’s call to live in Eretz Yisrael is timeless.

For years, people delayed making aliyah due to material concerns. Today, with a comfortable life possible in Israel, the real barrier is often spiritual complacency. Many feel they have everything they need in chutz la’Aretz: thriving communities, Torah learning, chesed organizations, kosher restaurants, and yeshivas. But Lech Lecha teaches us that while it’s possible to reach spiritual heights in chutz la’Aretz, even greater achievements await in Hashem’s chosen land.

7 October served as a wake-up call, prompting many Jews to consider aliyah more seriously than ever. It’s not an easy decision. Uprooting from the familiar, selling a home, leaving family and friends, and adjusting to a new life can be daunting. Yet the blessings Hashem promises to those who move to Eretz Yisrael, as outlined in this parsha, speak to our time as well: “I will make you into a great nation, I will bless you, I will make your name great, and you will be a blessing.”

Rabbi Zalman Sorotzkin comments in Oznayim LaTorah that this promise applies to Avram’s descendants as well. Am Yisrael can only reach its true greatness—militarily, economically, and spiritually—when we are in our Land. The Shechinah (Divine Presence) does not dwell in the diaspora; we need to open our eyes to the miracles Hashem performs in Israel daily.

The Netziv adds that Avram's example of acting immediately upon Hashem’s command to leave teaches us how to approach the mitzvah of aliyah. He didn’t wait for everything to be perfect; he set out immediately, leaving others to handle his affairs. For us, this can mean making small concrete steps: talking about aliyah, choosing careers suited for Israel, renting instead of buying in chutz la’Aretz, or investing in property in Israel. Such steps lock us into the journey toward aliyah, making it easier to follow through when the time is right.

Even with all the challenges, Rabbi Chayim of Volozhin teaches that the trials Avram endured were meant to strengthen his descendants. His steadfast commitment to aliyah instilled within each Jew the ability to heed Hashem’s call to move to Eretz Yisrael. The recent events have sparked a renewed desire for aliyah, reminding us that every Jew possesses the inner strength and spiritual "DNA" to make this journey.

In these times, it is imperative for Jewish leaders—rabbis, teachers, and mentors in diaspora schools and shuls—to emphasize the centrality of Israel in Jewish life. As role models, they have a responsibility to inspire their communities to recognize that the future of Am Yisrael lies in Eretz Yisrael. This message needs to permeate our educational systems and our daily conversations, instilling within each of us the drive to fulfill Hashem’s timeless command: “Lech Lecha”—go to the land He has shown us. I know for a fact that this constant message works. In my shul, in Highland Park, Congregation Ohav Emeth, the Rabbi constantly talked about the importance of  Eretz Yisrael and  Aliya. Over the years, this shul had by far the highest percent of aliya from any shul in the community 

Let me end with a beautiful thought from the Sefas Emes, who raises a question about the closing words of the first blessing in our Shmoneh Esrei, "Magen Avraham" — "the Shield of Abraham." Why do we ask Hashem to protect Avraham? Avraham Avinu has been gone for thousands of years; why would he need protection? The Sefas Emes, in a classic insight of his Hasidut, explains that we are not asking Hashem to shield Avraham himself. Rather, we are asking Him to preserve within ourselves that spark of Avraham Avinu — the essence that drove him to leave his homeland, come to Eretz Yisrael, and settle and conquer the Land of Israel.

We seek to retain the strength Avraham embodied, the unwavering commitment to avodat Hashem (serving God), enabling him to pass all his tests, from brit mila (circumcision) to the battles he entered, enduring hardship with an indestructible faith. Avraham’s life was built entirely on the will of Hashem, unshaken by the surrounding cultures and norms. This enduring spark, this legacy of resilience and faith, is the true blessing we ask for.

Ultimately, the question we must ask ourselves is: Are we listening to Hashem’s call?

The Song of the Morning Stars

 In this week's Torah reading, we read (at Bereishit 15:1 to 5) the following passage:

אַחַ֣ר  הַדְּבָרִ֣ים הָאֵ֗לֶּה הָיָ֤ה דְבַר־יְהֹוָה֙ אֶל־אַבְרָ֔ם בַּֽמַּחֲזֶ֖ה לֵאמֹ֑ר אַל־תִּירָ֣א אַבְרָ֗ם אָנֹכִי֙ מָגֵ֣ן לָ֔ךְ שְׂכָרְךָ֖ הַרְבֵּ֥ה מְאֹֽד׃

וַיֹּ֣אמֶר אַבְרָ֗ם אֲדֹנָ֤י יֱהֹוִה֙ מַה־תִּתֶּן־לִ֔י וְאָנֹכִ֖י הוֹלֵ֣ךְ עֲרִירִ֑י וּבֶן־מֶ֣שֶׁק בֵּיתִ֔י ה֖וּא דַּמֶּ֥שֶׂק אֱלִיעֶֽזֶר׃

וַיֹּ֣אמֶר אַבְרָ֔ם הֵ֣ן לִ֔י לֹ֥א נָתַ֖תָּה זָ֑רַע וְהִנֵּ֥ה בֶן־בֵּיתִ֖י יוֹרֵ֥שׁ אֹתִֽי׃

וְהִנֵּ֨ה דְבַר־יְהֹוָ֤ה אֵלָיו֙ לֵאמֹ֔ר לֹ֥א יִֽירָשְׁךָ֖ זֶ֑ה כִּי־אִם֙ אֲשֶׁ֣ר יֵצֵ֣א מִמֵּעֶ֔יךָ ה֖וּא יִֽירָשֶֽׁךָ׃

וַיּוֹצֵ֨א אֹת֜וֹ הַח֗וּצָה וַיֹּ֙אמֶר֙ הַבֶּט־נָ֣א הַשָּׁמַ֗יְמָה וּסְפֹר֙ הַכּ֣וֹכָבִ֔ים אִם־תּוּכַ֖ל לִסְפֹּ֣ר אֹתָ֑ם וַיֹּ֣אמֶר ל֔וֹ כֹּ֥ה יִהְיֶ֖ה זַרְעֶֽךָ

1.       After these things the word of the Lord came to Avram in a vision, saying: “Fear not, Avram, I am your shield; your reward shall be very great.”

2.       But Avram said, “My Lord, what will you give me, for I continue childless, and the heir of my house is Eliezer of Damascus?”

3.       And Avram said, “Look, you have given me no offspring, and a member of my household will be my heir.”

4.       And look, the word of the Lord came to him, saying: “This man shall not be your heir; only your very own son shall be your heir.”

5.       And He brought him outside and said, “Look toward the heavens, and count the stars, if you are able to number them.” Then He said to him, “So shall your offspring be.”

 Our member Max Stern (whose surname appropriately means "star") has composed a cosmic song of praise based on another reference to stars in Tanach, this time from the Book of Iyov (Job 38:7):

 בְּרָן-יַחַד, כּוֹכְבֵי בֹקֶר;    וַיָּרִיעוּ, כָּל-בְּנֵי אֱלֹהִים

"When the morning stars sang together and all the sons of God shouted for joy".

Max adds: These are the stars which shed their light after all the other stars have ceased to shine, and while the sun yet delays to rise. Are these too the stars that Avram saw when he gazed into the sky--and would he have heard their song?

Max's composition, "Song of the Morning Stars". can be accessed here. This recording is performed by the Israel Sinfonietta (Beer Sheva) under the baton of Uri Mayer, conductor.  

A Matter of Mindsets: Lech Lecha 5786

Lech lecha - “Go for yourself, from your land… to the land that I will show you.”

With these words, Avraham Avinu not only begins a physical journey but continues a lifelong mission of growth and discovery. His path—and the contrasting path of Lot—teaches us one of the Torah’s most enduring lessons: the power of stepping beyond comfort in pursuit of spiritual greatness.

Psychologist Carol Dweck famously distinguishes between a “fixed mindset” and a “growth mindset.” Those with a fixed mindset see their abilities and circumstances as unchangeable; those with a growth mindset believe in learning, striving, and the possibility of transformation. Avraham and Lot personify these two outlooks.

When Lot separates from Avraham, he chooses the fertile plains near Sodom. Rashi comments that he turned away “mikedem” (Bereishit 13:11) —literally “from the east,” but also away from kadmono shel olam—the One who preceded the world. Lot said to himself “I can no longer bear to be with Avraham nor with his God”. Lot sought comfort and prosperity, and in so doing he rejected his faith, calling and purpose. His decision was guided by convenience rather than conviction.

Yet later we find Lot risking his life to host guests in Sodom. His act of hospitality is admirable, yet limited. Lot continues doing what comes naturally, what came effortlessly in the home of Avraham without stretching beyond the familiar zone of comfort. He follows what feels right but avoids the harder work of growth.

Avraham, by contrast, constantly pushes past what feels natural. He continuously answers the call to move beyond what seems possible. Not by coincidence are his descendants compared to the stars. Rav Meir Shapiro explains that, when Hashem tells Avraham to count the stars and “thus shall be your descendants”, Hashem is telling him: Just as it is impossible to count the stars, so too the Jewish people will achieve the impossible in this world. As Rabbi Jonathan Sacks captured it beautifully: “Judaism is the defeat of probability by the power of possibility.”

These past two years have shown that spirit vividly. In moments of trial, Am Yisrael once again defied expectation - rising in unity, faith, and courage. Like Avraham’s stars, we illuminated the night with acts of bravery, chesed and resilience, proving that the Jewish story is one of surpassing limits.

As we read Lech Lecha, we are reminded that greatness begins when we step beyond what is comfortable. Each of us can follow Avraham’s call by leaving our “land” —our routines, familiar assumptions and old habits—to grow closer to Hashem. May we continue to walk in Avraham’s footsteps, transforming comfort into courage and possibility into reality.

 Shabbat Shalom! Rabbi Joel Kenigsberg

The Antecedent to the Precedent

Most of us have read the story of Avram's departure from Ur Kasdim and his early career as an apprentice Patriarch--but we may be sleep-reading through a familiar story instead of asking ourselves some penetrating questions. Why Avram? What's so special about him? Our member Rabbi Steven Ettinger takes a close look at the Torah text and shows us what we may have missed.

If you are reading critically, Lech Lecha poses a question rather than presenting a request or command. The question is, out of every other living person, why does Hashem choose Avram as the progenitor of His holy nation, effectively making him father of the three major world religions? The Torah does provide limited background about him: who his father was, that his brother died, that he got married and that his wife was childless. It also tells us that it was his father—and not Avram—who began the journey from their homeland. It conveys nothing of his character, his beliefs or his fitness for such a pivotal role in human history.

Some mistakenly identify him as the first monotheist.  However, there were others who preceded him: Adam and his three sons, Noach, Shem, Ever, Chanoch and Malkizedek (some say he was Shem). Yet Avram gets all the credit. Why?

There are midrashim that recount how Avram

1. inferred that Hashem existed by observing the natural world;

2. destroyed the idols in his father’s store and;

3. survived Nimrod’s attempt to burn him in a fiery furnace for not worshipping other deities.

However, the Torah, which sometimes details seemingly minor incidents, is silent as regards these events.  The Torah does not provide this background. The Avram narrative begins with Hashem directly addressing him – and Avram does not seem surprised by this. Why?

All of this is even more perplexing when we examine Hashem’s first communication/request: Hashem asks Avram to leave his land, birthplace and father’s home to go to an unspecified land in exchange for great reward. Avram had already left his land and birthplace. His father moved the family from Ur Kasdim to Charan. Additionally, they set out to travel to Canaan (Israel) – the place Hashem was going to show him, anyway (Gen. 11:31). This is like receiving a reward for breathing. Yet this is considered a turning point in history. Why?

 As explained, we know little of the pre-Lech Lecha Avram. However, there are three narratives that follow Hashem’s revelation to Avram that may answer the three “whys.”

The first is the Sarai story.  After Avram journeys to “the land” there is a famine that causes him to relocate temporarily to Egypt which had food. He tells his “beautiful” wife Sarai to present herself as his sister so that the locals will not kill him and treat her better. As the story unfolds, the Egyptians bring her to the Pharoh who intends to claim her. Hashem intervenes and threatens him. Pharoh returns Sarai to Avram, admonishes him for the deception, but presents him with an abundance of wealth. Avram now has the resources he needs as the head of the family, to be a provider.

The second is the Lot narrative. The story begins with a family dispute over grazing land, following which Lot separates from Avram and moves to Sodom. Lot is taken captive during the First World War (the war between the Five Kings and Four Kings). When Avram hears this, he gathers a small band of 318 men to challenge and defeat the larger, previously victorious army; he defeats them and recovers Lot. Avram thus proves his mettle as a protector of the family.

The third is the Hagar/Yishmael narrative. Sarai is barren so she encourages Avram to take her maidservant Hagar as a second wife. Hagar becomes pregnant but Sarai oppresses her and she flees to the desert. An angel bids her to return and she later gives birth to a son – whom Avram embraces and names Yishmael. Avram biologically creates a family. Immediately after this third event, Hashem forges a new covenant with Avram, changing his name from Avram to Avraham – signifying that now he is the father of a multitude of nations. Gen 17:5.

These three stories retrospectively show us why Hashem chose Avraham. While other men may have recognized that there is one God in the universe, only Avraham understood that He is not a singular distant, powerful and sometimes vengeful entity – the King of the World. Instead, he perceived and encountered God as the Father of Mankind.He also understood that, to the extent that Avraham was created in Hashem’s image, he himself, likewise, had to be a father – the archetypical father.

These three stories are stories of family: of supporting the family, of preserving the family, of risking all to protect the family, and  of creating a family –-- of being a father. Hashem chose Avraham because he was capable of being Avraham Avinu. When this narrative cycle was complete Hashem acknowledged this by designating him as the “Av Hamon Goyim,”. the father of the multitude of nations.

In summary, here are the answers to the three “whys” that we encountered above:

1.Avraham was not the first monotheist, but he was the first to recognize that the one God ultimately relates to mankind intimately as a father.

2.  The Torah did not recount the early, formative stories of Avraham’s past because they are not relevant to understanding his critical essence. Yes, he was a courageous champion of monotheistic faith. But more germane, he was the only individual with the character to be the father of our nation.

3. Hashem’s request is not what it seems. It is a code – it explains why Avraham was chosen. Avraham had already left his land and birthplace. The family actually intended to relocate to where Hashem ultimately sends him (Canaan/Israel). So, the only sojourn is from the house of his father. In other words, to become the father, he needed to leave the house of his father. The point of the command “lech lecha” was not to tell him where to go. It was to separate the child from his father Terach so he could become our father.

True Unity v Forced Conformity – Reflections on the Tower of Bavel: Noach 5786

This piece by Rabbi Kenigsberg was first published in Hanassi Highlights, 23 October 2025 (parashat Noach)

The short story of the Tower of Bavel is among the most mysterious episodes in the opening chapters of the Torah. Our understanding of it is often shaped by Midrashic imagery we recall from childhood - a tower attempting to reach the heavens, divine anger, and the scattering of humanity. But when we look closely at the pesukim themselves, the story seems far less straightforward.

Humanity comes together, united in language and purpose, to build a city and a tower. Yet, God intervenes, confounding their speech and dispersing them across the earth. What exactly was their sin? Why was such collaboration deserving of punishment?

The Netziv, in his commentary Ha’amek Davar, offers a profound and timely interpretation. He sees in the Tower of Bavel not merely a failed architectural project, but the birth of the world’s first totalitarian society -- a regime of forced unity and suppression of difference. The Torah tells us, “And the whole earth was of one language and of singular words.” (Bereishit 11:1)

Rav Hirsch distinguishes between “one language” -- a shared means of communication -- and “singular words,” meaning a common understanding of ideas. The Netziv writes further that although such unity is ostensibly a positive factor, in fact the opposite is true. “Singular words” implies that their unity had become so absolute, to the extent that it allowed for no individuality, no dissent, and no freedom of expression. He writes:

“It was not because of the substance of their deeds that God was aroused, but rather because they were entirely of one mind... Although such unity may appear positive... nonetheless in this case it became dangerous for civilization.” (Ha’amek Davar, Bereishit 11:1)

In other words, the problem was not cooperation, but conformity. A society that demands everyone think and speak alike sadly leaves no room for creativity, for conscience, or for truth.

This warning feels strikingly relevant in our own times. We live in an age when on so many issues there is often only one “acceptable” voice. Disagreement is too easily dismissed, and honest debate too quickly silenced.

During the Yamim Noraim we prayed “Uv’chen ten… u’fitchon peh lameyachalim lach” - “Place... the confidence to speak[1] into all who long for You.” (Koren Translation).  We ask Hashem to give voice to the silenced and to help each of us speak with conviction, integrity, and faith. As we continue to strive, pray for and work towards achdut among Am Yisrael, let us remember that unity does not mean uniformity. True unity is not when we all think the same, but when we stand together -- different yet devoted, diverse yet united, and bound by a shared purpose and destiny.

Shabbat Shalom!

 Rabbi Joel Kenigsberg

---

[1] Literally: An opening of the mouth.

From Resistance to Redemption

Here in this powerful piece of analysis, our member Rabbi Paul Bloom parallels the lives and challenges of Noach and Avraham with the middot ascribed to their generations in Pirkei Avot.

Noach: The Righteous Man in His Generations

נֹחַ אִישׁ צַדִּיק תָּמִים הָיָה בְּדֹרֹתָיו, אֶת הָאֱ-לֹהִים הִתְהַלֶּךְ נֹחַ

 “Noach was a righteous man, perfect in his generations; Noach walked with God”   (בראשית ו:ט)

Few figures in the Torah are explicitly described as ‘tzaddik’. The Torah’s introduction of Noach, however, includes a striking qualifier — בְּדֹרֹתָיו, “in his generations.”

Much ink has been spilled over this phrase. Rashi famously cites two views: some interpret it as praise — that, even amid corruption, Noach remained righteous; others, as limitation — that only “in his generations” was he righteous but, compared to Avraham, he would not have stood out.

Yet Midrash Rabbah offers a different and profound perspective. The phrase “in his generations” refers not to comparison, but to context — to the dark and morally decaying generations through which Noach lived and against which his righteousness shone.

שלוש הדורות המקולקלים – The Three Corrupt Generations

The Midrash (בראשית רבה ל:ז) teaches that Noach lived through three particularly depraved generations — each marked by a different form of spiritual collapse:

1.           דור אנוש – The Generation of Enosh

 This was the first generation to turn from faith (אמונה) to idolatry (עבודה זרה). As the Torah says,

 אָז הוּחַל לִקְרֹא בְּשֵׁם ה' (בראשית ד:כו) 

 which Chazal interpret as “then they began to profane the Name of Hashem.”  Humanity shifted from belief in the Creator to the worship of created forces, inaugurating the long history of paganism.

2.           דור המבול – The Generation of the Flood

 The Torah describes this generation as being consumed by desire and corruption:

 (כִּי מָלְאָה הָאָרֶץ חָמָס מִפְּנֵיהֶם (בראשית ו:יא

 Their society was driven by ta’avah — unrestrained self-gratification. They took whatever they wanted, without regard for others, leading to theft, immorality, and violence.

3.           דור הפלגה – The Generation of the Tower of Bavel

 These people were motivated by ga’avah — arrogance and hubris. Discovering how to make bricks,

 וַיֹּאמְרוּ הָבָה נִבְנֶה לָנוּ עִיר וּמִגְדָּל וְרֹאשׁוֹ בַשָּׁמַיִם (בראשית יא:ד)

 Their newfound technology bred the illusion of limitless human power. They sought to dominate nature and dethrone Heaven itself. Each generation embodied a different corruption of the human spirit — the idolater’s denial of God, the hedonist’s indulgence in pleasure, and the arrogant’s rebellion through pride.

קִנְאָה, תַּאֲוָה וְכָבוֹד – The Triple Threat

The Mishnah in Pirkei Avot (ד:כח) summarizes these corruptive tendencies in timeless psychological terms:

הַקִּנְאָה וְהַתַּאֲוָה וְהַכָּבוֹד מוֹצִיאִין אֶת הָאָדָם מִן הָעוֹלָם

 “Jealousy, desire, and the pursuit of honor drive a person from the world.”

Each of these drives, when unrestrained, destroys both the individual and society. Yet in moderation, they have a legitimate, even necessary, place in life. A measure of ta’avah is needed for sustenance and family; kavod inspires self-respect; kin’ah — in its positive form — motivates personal growth. But excess turns them toxic. Already in the earliest chapters of Bereishit, we see how they manifest:

●           Kayin, whose name derives from (קָנִיתִי אִישׁ (בראשית ד:א, embodied possessiveness and envy. His jealousy of Hevel led to murder.

●           The Generation of the Flood was destroyed by ta’avah, unbounded lust and greed.

●           The Builders of Bavel were consumed by kavod, imagining that human achievement could replace divine authority.

נֹחַ וְכֹחוֹ לַעֲמֹד בְּנִסָּיוֹן – Noach’s Resistance

The opening verse of Tehillim (א:א) beautifully mirrors these three eras:

אַשְׁרֵי הָאִישׁ אֲשֶׁר לֹא הָלַךְ בַּעֲצַת רְשָׁעִים, וּבְדֶרֶךְ חַטָּאִים לֹא עָמָד, וּבְמוֹשַׁב לֵצִים לֹא יָשָׁב

Chazal (מדרש רבה שם) interpret this verse as follows:

●           לא הלך בעצת רשעים — He did not follow the sinners of the Generation of Enosh.

●           ובדרך חטאים לא עמד — He did not stand with the Generation of the Flood.

●           ובמושב לצים לא ישב — He did not join the Generation of the Tower of Bavel.

Thus, Noach is “fortunate” because he resisted all three corrupt influences.  He walked with God when others mocked faith, indulged the flesh, or glorified human arrogance. As the Rambam writes in Hilchot De’ot (ו:א),

דֶּרֶךְ בְּרִיָּתוֹ שֶׁל אָדָם לִהִימָשֵׁךְ בְּדֵעוֹתָיו וּבְמַעֲשָׂיו אַחֲרֵי רֵעָיו וְאַחֲרֵי אַנְשֵׁי מְדִינָתוֹ

 “It is the nature of man to be influenced by his companions and environment.”

To remain righteous in a corrupt world is, therefore, no small feat.  This was Noach’s greatness — he resisted. But here too lies his limitation. Noach saved himself and his family, but not his generation. He built an ark, not a movement. His righteousness was defensive, not transformative.

אָבְרָהָם – הַשָּׁלָב הַבָּא בַּתִּקוּן – Avraham’s Advancement

With Avraham Avinu, the Torah’s story takes a new direction. Avraham not only resisted the surrounding idolatry; he challenged it. He “called out in the name of Hashem” —

וַיִּקְרָא בְּשֵׁם ה' 

Chazal teach that Avraham traveled from place to place, teaching humanity about the Creator, even at personal risk. His mission was to restore the world’s moral order. Where Noach withstood, Avraham inspired. The Mishnah in Pirkei Avot (ה:יט) contrasts the disciples of Avraham with those of Bil‘am:

כָּל שֶׁיֵּשׁ בּוֹ שָׁלוֹשׁ מִדּוֹת הַלָּלוּ – עַיִן טוֹבָה, רוּחַ נְמוּכָה, וְנֶפֶשׁ שְׁפֵלָה – מִתַּלְמִידָיו שֶׁל אַבְרָהָם אָבִינוּ

These three middot directly correspond to the rectification of the earlier corruptions:

●           עַיִן טוֹבָה — a “good eye,” rejoicing in others’ success, rectifies kin’ah (jealousy).

●           נֶפֶשׁ שְׁפֵלָה — modest desires, rectifies ta’avah (lust).

●           רוּחַ נְמוּכָה — humility, rectifies kavod (arrogance).

In Avraham, human nature itself is healed.  He transforms the destructive impulses that ruined the early world into traits of holiness.

מִנֹּחַ לְאַבְרָהָם – From Resistance to Redemption

The Torah’s record of human corruption is not a chronicle of despair, but a moral blueprint. It shows how far mankind can fall — and how far it can rise. Noach was righteous within his world; Avraham was righteous for his world.  Noach preserved; Avraham built.  Noach walked with God; Avraham walked before God (בראשית יז:א), taking initiative to bring others along. The spiritual history of humanity thus moves from survival to mission — from tzaddik bedorotav to av hamon goyim.

By learning these early parshiyot, we see the continuity of moral repair:

• ·       from the corruption of kin’ah, ta’avah, kavod, to their sanctified opposites of ayin tova, nefesh shefeilah, ruach nemuchah.
  
  
• ·       from resistance, to transformation, to redemption.

May we, the children of Avraham, continue his legacy —

• ·       to resist the moral floods of our time,
  
  
• ·       to build arks of Torah and faith,
  
  
• ·       and to call out, like Avraham, in the name of Hashem.

The Humanity of Jewish Law: Book of the Month, Mar Cheshvan 5786

Written 40 years ago, in 1985, The Humanity of Jewish Law is a fascinating and intriguing book. Its author, Meyer S. Lew, was better known in Anglo-Jewish circles as Dayan Lew, a scholar of Semitics, Theology and Jewish History and a powerful figure on the London Beth Din on which he served for quarter of a century.

So what is this book all about? According to its description on Amazon:

In an age of challenge to tradition, this work illuminates the essential humanity of halacha (Jewish law), which has guided the Jewish people through the ages. Drawing on classical talmudic, midrashic, and rabbinic sources, Dayan Lew ably demonstrates the religious, ethical, and spiritual motivations behind halachic decisions affecting all aspects of life and behavior, proving anew that the genius, spirit, and sensitivity that underlie the Jewish legal system advance the human condition and remain relevant for all times.

When this book was published, the Chief Rabbi was Immanuel Jakobovits and the 1980s were a tough time for Jewish orthodoxy in the United Kingdom. Judaism was being attacked from the inside as being antiquated, old-fashioned and insensitive to the needs of the modern era. Lord Jakobovitz lamented that the only good and accessible books on the Jewish religion that were written there were penned by non-Jewish scholars like R. Travers Herford. Against that, in the years before Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks emerged as an outstanding, cogent and productive author, the only outstanding book on Judaism from the domestic rabbinate was the brilliant but heretical We Have Reason to Believe by Louis Jacobs. Dayan Lew’s The Humanity of Jewish Law was the second title to answer the Chief Rabbi’s call for good and accessible English-language books by rabbis, following Rabbi Shlomo P. Toperoff’s Lev Avot.

The Humanity of Jewish Law is part of the Marvin N. Hirschhorn collection, housed in our Beith Midrash.

Before the Dawn: Prophecies and Signs of Redemption

Throughout Jewish history, our prophets have painted vivid pictures of the end of days — of exile and return, destruction and renewal, suffering and redemption. For generations, these prophecies were studied with awe and yearning. Today, as we witness dramatic changes in the Land of Israel and throughout the world, many wonder: Are we seeing the early light of their fulfillment? Rabbi Paul Bloom reflects on this long-asked question and offers an insightful approach to it.

This essay explores those timeless visions through the words of Tanach and Chazal, together with reflections on recent events that may echo their call. Our purpose is not prediction, but perspective — to view our moment in history through the lens of prophecy and faith.

Walking the Streets of Jerusalem

As I walk the streets of Yerushalayim during this deeply spiritual season — from Rosh Hashanah through Yom Kippur, culminating in Sukkot — I sense that we are living in extraordinary times. Never before has it been so clear that the words of our Nevi’im are unfolding before our very eyes. The vision of the prophets is not ancient poetry; it is a living reality, a call to awaken and prepare.

1. קִבּוּץ גָּלוּיוֹת —  Ingathering of the Exiles

One of the clearest signs of redemption foretold in the Tanach is the return of Am Yisrael to its land:

וְשָׁב ה' אֱלֹקֶיךָ אֶת שְׁבוּתְךָ וְרִחֲמֶךָ, וְשָׁב וְקִבֶּצְךָ מִכָּל הָעַמִּים אֲשֶׁר הֱפִיצְךָ ה' אֱלֹקֶיךָ שָׁמָּה

 “Then Hashem your God will bring back your captivity and have compassion upon you, and will return and gather you from all the nations where Hashem your God has scattered you.” (Devarim 30:3)

קִבַּצְתִּי אֶתְכֶם מִכָּל הָאֲרָצוֹת וְהֵבֵאתִי אֶתְכֶם אֶל אַדְמַתְכֶם

 “I will gather you from all the lands and bring you into your own land.”
 — Yechezkel (Ezekiel) 36:24

For nearly two millennia, Jews were scattered across the globe. Yet today, from every continent — North America, South Africa, France, Russia, Ethiopia, and beyond — the Jewish people are returning home. This is nothing less than the fulfillment of ancient prophecy. This prophecy can be found in at least 18 places in Tanach (See Appendix).

2. תְּחִיַּת הָאָרֶץ — The Land’s Rebirth

The prophets spoke not only of the people’s return, but of the land itself coming back to life:

וְאַתֶּם הָרֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל, עַנְפְּכֶם תִּתֵּנוּ וּפִרְיְכֶם תִּשְּׂאוּ, לְעַמִּי יִשְׂרָאֵל, כִּי קֵרְבוּ לָבוֹא

 “But you, O mountains of Israel, you shall give forth your branches and yield your fruit to My people Israel; for they are soon to come.” (Yechezkel 36:8)

For centuries, Eretz Yisrael was desolate, barren, and neglected. But with the return of her children, the land has awakened — vineyards flourish, cities rise, and deserts bloom. Today, Israel leads the world in desert agriculture, drip irrigation, and reforestation. Hills once barren are now green; valleys bloom with orchards. Every fruit tree and field seems to testify that the Divine promise is alive once more.

3. שׁוּב רִבּוֹנוּת יִשְׂרָאֵל — Restoration of Sovereignty

The return to the land was always tied to the renewal of Jewish sovereignty. After centuries under foreign rule, the establishment of the State of Israel in 1948 marked a historic turning point. For the first time since the destruction of the Second Temple, the Jewish people govern their ancestral homeland.

וְשָׁבוּ בָנִים לִגְבוּלָם  

“And children shall return to their borders.” (Yirmeyahu 31:16)

Though challenges remain, the existence of a Jewish state is a miracle in itself — a declaration that prophecy is not a relic of the past but a living promise.

4. יְרוּשָׁלַ͏ִים בְּמֶרְכַּז הָעוֹלָם  — The Rebuilding of Jerusalem

No city embodies the story of Am Yisrael like Yerushalayim. The prophets foretold that it would once again be filled with life:

עוֹד יֵשְׁבוּ זְקֵנִים וּזְקֵנוֹת בִּרְחֹבוֹת יְרוּשָׁלַ‍ִם... וּרְחֹבוֹת הָעִיר יִמָּלְאוּ יְלָדִים וִילָדוֹת מְשַׂחֲקִים בִּרְחֹבֹתֶיהָ  

“Old men and old women shall yet again sit in the streets of Jerusalem… and the streets of the city shall be full of boys and girls playing.” (Zechariah 8:4–5)

Today, one can walk through the alleys of the Old City and witness exactly this — elders on benches, children laughing, Torah scholars hurrying to shiurim. The recognition of Jerusalem as Israel’s capital by nations of the world marks yet another step toward the fulfillment of Zechariah’s vision.

5. בִּלְבּוּל הָעוֹלָם וּמַשְׁבֵּר הָאֱמוּנָה —Moral Confusion and Global Upheaval

Our sages taught that before the coming of Mashiach, the world would enter a time of moral confusion and upheaval — what Chazal called Chevlei Mashiach, the “birth pangs” of redemption.

We live in a century of remarkable technological progress yet profound spiritual disorientation. Values once considered sacred are questioned, while evil often masquerades as good. Injustice, violence, and the distortion of truth dominate global headlines. This turmoil, though painful, may be the darkness that precedes the dawn.

6. דִּין הַגּוֹיִם — The Judgment of Nations

The prophets also foresaw that, in the end of days, the nations would be judged for their treatment of Israel:

וְנִשְׁפַּטְתִּי אִתָּם שָׁם עַל עַמִּי וְנַחֲלָתִי יִשְׂרָאֵל, אֲשֶׁר הֵפִיצוּ בַגּוֹיִם, וְאֶת אַרְצִי חִלֵּקוּ  

“There I will enter into judgment with them concerning My people and My heritage Israel, whom they have scattered among the nations, and they have divided up My land.” (Yoel 4:2)

Recent debates over dividing the Land of Israel echo this prophecy with chilling clarity. Yet we have also seen unexpected moments when world leaders, against political odds, have defended Israel’s right to exist and to protect its people — reminders that the hand of Hashem guides history.

7. תְּשׁוּבָה וְהִתְעוֹרְרוּת רוּחָנִית — Awakening of Teshuvah

A further sign of redemption is the spiritual awakening among our people. Even amid pain and crisis — such as the tragic events of October 7 — there has been a surge of faith, unity, and return to Torah.

Jews across the globe have deepened their connection to mitzvot, tefillah, and Shabbat. Many have embraced tzitzit, tefillin, and acts of kindness as never before. This collective return reflects the promise:

וְשַׁבְתָּ עַד ה' אֱלֹקֶיךָ, וְשָׁמַעְתָּ בְּקֹלוֹ  

“And you shall return to Hashem your God and listen to His voice…” (Devarim 30:2)

8. הֲכָנוֹת לַבֵּית הַמִּקְדָּשׁ — Preparations for the Temple

Even the longing for the Beit HaMikdash — the dream of rebuilding — is stirring once again. From renewed study of Temple laws to the crafting of priestly garments and instruments, signs of readiness abound.

כִּי מִצִּיּוֹן תֵּצֵא תּוֹרָה, וּדְבַר ה' מִירוּשָׁלָ‍ִם

 “For out of Zion shall go forth Torah, and the word of Hashem from Jerusalem.” (Yeshayahu 2:3)

 The Temple Institute in Jerusalem has prepared vessels, priestly garments, and identified red heifers suitable for purification. While these efforts are symbolic beginnings, they reveal a yearning rooted deep in the Jewish soul — a yearning that itself is part of the redemption process.

 

9. ‘שָׁלוֹם עוֹלָמִי וְדֵעַת י —Universal Peace

Isaiah envisioned a world transformed by the knowledge of God:

לֹא־יִשָּׂא גוֹי אֶל־גוֹי חֶרֶב, וְלֹא־יִלְמְדוּ עוֹד מִלְחָמָה  

“Nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore.” (Yeshayahu 2:4)

While we are not there yet, we see growing global awareness of the futility of war and the power of peace. Perhaps these are early footsteps of a new moral consciousness — the distant echoes of Isaiah’s dream.

The Dawn Before Day

Yet shadows remain — conflict, confusion, and suffering. Even so, Rabbi Akiva taught us how to see light amid ruin. When his colleagues wept at the desolation of the Temple, he smiled:

נִתְקַיְּמָה נְבוּאָתוֹ שֶׁל עוּרִיָּה — מִתְקַיֶּמֶת נְבוּאָתוֹ שֶׁל זְכַרְיָה

“If the prophecy of Uriah [destruction] has been fulfilled, then surely the prophecy of Zechariah [consolation] will also be fulfilled.” (Makkot 24b)

Rabbi Akiva’s faith was not naive optimism; it was a recognition that history itself is the canvas of Divine promise.

Reflection

What are we to do in such times? The prophets teach that redemption demands response:

• To see the hand of Hashem in history.
• To strengthen our commitment to Torah and mitzvot.
• To support the rebuilding of our people and land.
• To prepare our hearts for the Geulah.

These are not luxuries, but necessities.

Conclusion

Prophecy is like the dawn — faint light breaking through night. What we are witnessing are the beginnings of that light. This is a moment both solemn and hopeful.

While not everyone can make Aliyah immediately, it is imperative that each of us begin — and hasten — our preparation for that day. Hashem continually gives us signs. All we need do is open our eyes, thank Hashem, and listen.