Playing with power

Continuing our series of weekly Pirkei Avot posts on the perek of the week, we return to Perek 3.

Now here’s a mystery. We have a three-part mishnah in the name of Rabbi Yishmael (Avot 3:16) and our sages only agree about the third part:

הֱוֵי קַל לְרֹאשׁ, וְנֽוֹחַ לְתִשְׁחֽוֹרֶת, וֶהֱוֵי מְקַבֵּל אֶת כָּל הָאָדָם בְּשִׂמְחָה

Be easy to a rosh, affable to a tishchoret, and receive every man with happiness.

Our problem is that we cannot agree on the meaning of any of the key words, and especially rosh and tishchoret. One rabbi (R’ Marcus Lehmann, The Lehmann-Prins Pirkei Avoth) actually gives our mishnah four quite different translations.

Commentators over the years have maintained that the rosh is one’s head, one’s ego, a ruler, a leader, a superior, an elder, a civic leader, a venerable old man—and even God.

As for the tishchoret, this has been explained as someone who is young, old, black-haired, oppressed, a town clerk, the king’s secretary, or a time at which one should be slow and steady.

R’ Yishmael’s words were incorporated into this tractate over 1,800 years ago and we have lovingly preserved them while losing track of their original meaning. However, we cannot walk away from a mishnah and pretend it doesn’t exist so we must take on the task of giving it our own meaning, one that is both Torah-compliant and suited to the needs of our generation. R’ Reuven P. Bulka (Chapters of the Sages: A Psychological Commentary on Pirkey Avoth) seeks to do just that. He writes:

“The present mishna deals with ego difficulties relative to communal functioning. Primarily, they may be said to focus around individuals who have not reached the position of prominence in the community they felt was appropriate for them. The general tendency of such individuals is to downgrade those who have superseded them and to discourage those who would in the future gain the very positions they have failed to attain”.

Anyone who has been involved in Jewish communal affairs is likely to have come across people who fit this bill. Basically good-hearted and well-meaning souls, they feel they have been taken for granted and are disgruntled at not being voted into positions of authority or being nominated as one of the chatanim on Simchat Torah. They may become sullen and unhelpful towards those who are less experienced than themselves and who might benefit from the assistance of an older person. It can be a struggle to overcome one’s inner demons and, in R’ Bulka’s view, this is what Rabbi Yishmael has in mind.

Or perhaps we can summarise it simply like this: don’t demean the authority of those above you and don’t abuse your authority when dealing with those below you.

Am KeLavi - Rectifying the Sin of the Spies

Through the lens of history, some images become more than photographs — they become turning points. The paratroopers gazing up at the Kotel in 1967. Rav Goren blowing the shofar. These were not just moments — they became part of our national soul.

And now, as we live through a defining chapter in our own history, we find ourselves asking: what image will capture this moment?

Perhaps it may not come from the battlefield. It may just come from the airport. This week, a photograph was published of a woman who, upon landing in Israel, knelt to kiss the ground. Her act, so quiet and personal, says more than a thousand words. To much of the world, returning to a war zone makes no sense. But we — the Jewish people — understand. This is not recklessness. It is teshuva. It is a return of the heart.

As rockets fall and sirens sound, thousands of Israelis abroad are doing everything they can to come home. And what we are witnessing is not just a logistical operation — it is a spiritual movement, a national teshuva unfolding before our very eyes.

The Sin of the Spies: A Threefold Failure

This week’s parsha, Shelach, recounts one of the most devastating episodes in the Torah: the sin of the spies. Sent to scout the land, they returned not with lies, but with fear. They acknowledged the land’s beauty — but saw only its threats. “We cannot ascend,” they said. “The people are stronger than us.”

The sin was layered — and each layer cut deep:

• Against the Land: They slandered Eretz Yisrael, calling it “a land that devours its inhabitants.”
• Against the People: Their report demoralized the nation, spreading fear and despair.
• Against God: Most profoundly, they doubted Hashem’s promise, acting as though He could not fulfill it.

The result was national paralysis. Hashem decreed that the generation who rejected the land would not enter it.

Teshuva Done Wrong

The next day, a group known as the ma’apilim tried to undo the damage. “We will go up!” they declared, ready to fight. But it was too late. They acted without Hashem’s guidance and were defeated. The lesson is clear: teshuva must come with humility, not just urgency.

Our Generation’s Response

Today, we are blessed to witness something altogether different — a slow, sincere tikkun of that ancient sin. And remarkably, it addresses all three of its dimensions:

1. Love for the Land

While the spies recoiled, today Jews across the globe are embracing Eretz Yisrael. Even amidst rockets and fear, rescue flights are full. People are desperate to return. The photo of a woman kissing the ground of Israel was not staged — it was instinctive. The Rambam writes that the Sages would kiss the dust of the land, fulfilling the verse, “For Your servants cherished her stones and loved her dust.” What was once rejected is now held close.

2. Unity of the People

The spies’ words broke the spirit of the nation. But today, we see remarkable unity. After Simchat Torah and again during Operation Rising Lion, Israelis across all divides stood as one. Political rivals speak with mutual support. One opposition leader said it best: “Today, in this war, there is no right and left — only right and wrong.”

3. Rekindling of Faith

The deepest sin was spiritual. The spies questioned God’s protection. And in the aftermath of October 7, many asked: Where was God? Yet what followed was not spiritual collapse, but renewal. Faith and prayer have reentered the public sphere — from soldiers, from leaders, from returned hostages. Just hours before Israel’s pre-emptive strike on Iran, the Prime Minister was photographed at the Kotel, wrapped in a tallit, placing a handwritten verse inside the stones:

הֶן־עָם כְּלָבִיא יָקוּם וְכַאֲרִי יִתְנַשָּׂא — “Behold, a people that rises like a lioness and lifts itself like a lion.”

The Power of This Moment

The Rambam writes that the highest form of teshuva (teshuva gemura) occurs when a person is faced with the same challenge and chooses to act differently. As a nation, we find ourselves in a great moment of teshuva gemura. The fear is still here. The threats are real. And yet, we choose to return. We choose to stay. We choose to believe.

Parshat Shelach is more than a story of failure — it is a challenge to future generations. Will we learn from the past? Will we respond with faith instead of fear?

This Shabbat, our tefillot continue — even in limited numbers. And while we may not all be gathered together in shul, we remain deeply united in spirit and in purpose.

May we merit to continue this process of teshuva, and to write a new chapter — of love for our land, of unity among our people, and of renewed faith in Hashem.

Shabbat Shalom, Rabbi Joel Kenigsberg

The Sin That Still Echoes—And the Redemption That Awaits

Parashat Shelach Lecha is one of the most pivotal and haunting portions in the Torah. It contains not only the tragic episode of the spies—the meraglim—but also four mitzvot that Chazal compare to the entire Torah: Shabbat, Tzitzit, Challah, and Yishuv Eretz Yisrael—the mitzvah to live in the Land of Israel. While each of these is powerful, one stands at the heart of our national destiny: the command to love, cherish, and settle the Land of Israel. Our member and eloquent exponent of Aliyah, Rabbi Paul Bloom, explains.

The Sin That Defined an Exile

It was on Tisha B’Av that the twelve spies returned from their mission. Ten of them, leaders and men of stature, brought a report laden with fear and negativity. They acknowledged the land’s beauty but punctuated it with one crushing word -- "But." “The people are strong… we cannot succeed.” This single word undid generations of promise. That night Bnei Yisrael wept, and Hashem declared, “You wept for nothing; I will give you weeping for generations.”

That moment—a night of baseless despair and rejection of the Promised Land—became the root of Tisha B’Av, a day that would echo with destruction through Jewish history. The sin was not only lashon hara about the land, but something deeper: a rejection of the land itself, a bizayon ha’aretz, despising the very gift Hashem had prepared for them.

Lashon Hara, Again—and Again

The Torah places the story of the spies immediately after the episode of Miriam speaking against Moshe. Rav Yisrael Ordman explains this is no coincidence. The spies should have learned from Miriam’s punishment the danger of slander. She failed to see Moshe’s unique spiritual level; the spies failed to see Eretz Yisrael’s unique spiritual status. They were not sent just to report military strategies—they were told by Moshe to look for the segulah of the land, its Divine uniqueness. But they got caught up in the mundane: the giants, the cities, the fears. They were blind to holiness.

Rav Soloveitchik offers another dimension: the spies were elite leaders who could not bear the idea of losing their status. Entering the land meant new leadership, new roles, new structures. The spies’ vision was clouded not just by fear—but by ego. They failed as sheluchim—messengers—not because they lacked information, but because they lacked bitul, the humility to carry a message that wasn’t about them.

Contrast this with the second mission, decades later. Yehoshua sends two anonymous spies to Jericho. The Torah doesn’t name them. They are “cheresh,” silent, like klei cheres—simple, humble vessels. Their report is filled with faith: “Hashem has given the land into our hands.” No fear. No ego. Just clarity.

The Eternal Sin of Despising the Land

Rav Yaakov Filber points out that the sin of the spies didn’t end in the desert. It repeated itself during the Babylonian exile. Despite Hashem's miraculous opening of the gates for return through Ezra and Nechemiah, most Jews stayed behind in the comfort of exile. They preferred their homes, their jobs, and their familiarity over the challenge—and holiness—of rebuilding life in Eretz Yisrael.

Tragically, we see the same today. The Vilna Gaon recognized this centuries ago. He urged his students to return and rebuild. One of his disciples, Rav Hillel of Shklov, wrote in Kol HaTor that many Jews in his time—especially observant ones—were still committing the sin of the spies. They rationalized their comfort in exile and denied the mitzvah of Yishuv Eretz Yisrael, despite clear Talmudic sources stating that dwelling in the Land is equal to all the mitzvot of the Torah.

Rav Yaakov Emden, in his introduction to his siddur, pleads with future generations not to settle permanently in chutz la'aretz, warning that the sin of despising the "desirable land" is the root of our eternal weeping.

A Test That Returns in Every Generation

Today, we are seeing open miracles—whether in the resilience of Israel in times of war, the unity among Jews under fire, or the blossoming of Torah and technology in a once-barren land. Yet many still view Eretz Yisrael through the lens of cynicism: bureaucracy, climate, personalities. As in the time of the meraglim, they ignore the Divine Presence, the spiritual vitality, the promise unfolding before our eyes.

We must ask: Are we repeating the sin of the spies?

Do we speak of the Land with reverence—or with lashon hara? Do we view Aliyah as a central mitzvah—or an optional inconvenience? Do we focus on the difficulties—or the destiny?

Redemption Awaits the Shift

The Mesilat Yesharim warns that kavod, the pursuit of honor, distorts perception. The spies feared loss of position. But Yehoshua’s messengers embraced their role as simple vessels. That’s the model we need today. The mitzvah of living in Eretz Yisrael is not merely a footnote—it is, as Chazal say, equal to all the mitzvot. When we embrace it with humility, with emunah, and with joy, we begin to undo the tears of Tisha B’Av. We open the door to redemption. As we approach the final stages of exile, the question is no longer whether we can return, but whether we are willing to.

Moshiach is not waiting on history. He is waiting on us.

Nishmat Kol Chai: A special song for 23 Sivan

Earlier this week we posted this piece by Rabbi Paul Bloom on the significance of 23 Sivan. Another of our members, Max Stern, has added to this by sharing with us a musical rendition of the first part of Nishmat Kol Chai for female voice, bassoon and piano. 

You can both watch this work (there are some cute visuals) and listen to it on Max's YouTube channel here.

Max has styled his work "Blessing of Song". It was composed during the Covid pandemic as a prayer for all humanity, expressing a profound and immensely topical desire that life should return to normal.

Tzitzit and Torah methodology: Shelach Lecha 5785

In its discussion of the commandment of tzitzit, which concludes this week’s parsha, the Torah warns us not to follow the dictates of our hearts’ desires and the wants occasioned by our wandering eyes. The Netziv (Rabbi Naftali Zvi Yehuda Berlin of nineteenth century Volozhin), among others  who comment on this verse, states that the ‘desires of our heart’ refers to people who perform mitzvot but have no faith in their worth or in their Giver, while ‘after their wandering eyes’ refers to those who view mitzvot that they personally observe through the prism of their eyes and understanding alone. Such people always want to substitute their own desires or their intellectual rationalizations for the pure belief in God and subservience to Him that are needed if one is to serve Him correctly.

Man’s natural inclination to be free of the commands of others, to do what one wants irrespective of duty or tradition with disregard for the consequences, stands in opposition to the Jewish notions of obedience and humility before our Creator. The Torah allows us desires and rational thinking. But, like any other facet of human behavior, these desires must be channeled. They are not meant to run wild and follow the changing whims and vagaries of human society in any given era. Performance of the mitzvot faithfully and in acknowledgement of the One who commands them becomes the foundation for the necessary disciplines that enhance Jewish life for all eternity. 

If this were not so, our hearts and eyes, our uninhibited desires and uncontrolled intellect would lead us astray. But why is the commandment of tzitzit the ultimate method for teaching us the importance of obedience, probity and faith? After all, there are hundreds of other commandments that would seem to be able to instruct us in the same fashion. 

While commentators on the Torah have struggled to find a conclusive and meaningful explanation, this is one that appeals to me the most, one that has to do with the form that the mitzvah takes. Even though it applies only to four-cornered garments, a relative rarity in post-Talmudic times, Jews have purposely worn such garments to obligate themselves in the performance of this mitzvah, making it omnipresent in their lives. It was an item of self-identification, a primary reminder of the yoke of mitzvot that the Jews accepted upon themselves and for all generations at Mount Sinai. Tzitzit is a mitzvah that numerically (through gematria) and in its form (its knots and strings) constantly reminds us of the 613 mitzvot that are the basis of our existence and the responsibilities that shape and govern our lives. 

Tzitzit thus represents the totality of the commandments, and of the very concept of commandments, that lies at the heart of Judaism and forms the nucleus of all Jewish life. Such is the methodology of Torah in shaping our actions and our thoughts. 

Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein

For Rabbi Wein's Shelach Lecha devar Torah for 5784 click here.

Sin and exile: a parallel narrative

Our member, rabbi and author Steven Ettinger, has turned his downtime during missile attacks to positive use by exercising his brain and his imagination to good purpose. Look what he has been thinking:

Sitting in the ma’amad with little else to do, one’s mind can wrestle with anxiety or can be distracted with something more constructive. I am choosing the latter – typing some stream of consciousness ideas about this week’s parshah, Shelach Lecha.

For some prognosticators, this is the start of World War II, an “end of the world” scenario.  So naturally, a good launching pad for my thoughts is at the very beginning. Hashem created the world with “asarah ma’amarot”, ten utterances. He completed the process by animating Adam HaRishon, the prototype human – who promptly succumbed to his evil inclination and was exiled from paradise.

Several millennia later Hashem repeated this pattern, albeit for a nation rather than for an individual. He did not create a single person but the ultimate people, Am Yisroel.  In place of ten utterances there were ten plagues. In place of seven days there were seven weeks.  There is one significant difference, however. Adam, after eating from the Tree of Knowledge, was prevented from eating from the Tree of Life. Hashem gave the Jewish Nation a tree of BOTH knowledge and life, the Torah, “eitz chaim hi.”

There is still one aspect left to discuss, the sin and the exile. In Eden, the story is succinct and clear – a well-known narrative.  The story has a beginning (“do not eat from the fruit of the tree”), a middle (the story of how they ate) ,and an end (the punishment).  There is even a villain upon whom some of the blame can be cast.

If the events of the Exodus present a parallel creation story, then where is this sin and exile narrative?

It would be tempting to answer that Am Yisrael or, more precisely, the generation that was redeemed from Egypt, was denied entry to the Land of Israel, a form of pre-exile, because of the sin of the Golden Calf. This would fit the mold precisely. They were given two interrelated commands, that they heard directly from Hashem: that He is their God and they are to have no others besides Him. They proceeded immediately to violate these directives.

This MAY have been the “sin.” However, “the consequence was NOT “exile”. Several thousand died, but there was forgiveness (“salachti ki’dvarecha”), not punishment. So perhaps the parallel narrative is to be found elsewhere, like in parashat Shelach Lecha.

In our parashah, the spies go out to see the land, they return with a bad report and the people despair. For this they are all punished and condemned to die in the desert over the next 40 years. This is their sin and exile.

However, if this truly is the “sin and exile”, if this is a continuation of our nation’s creation story: Where is the parallel narrative?  Where were they tempted? What command did they violate? Why the length of the punishment?  The answers to these questions will show us just how similar the two patterns are.

The parallel narrative is the story of the spies, with one caveat – there is one small link back to the sin of the Golden Calf. When Hashem forgave them, it was not exactly unconditional. In Ex. 32:34 He states: “u’veyom pakdi, uphakaditi alehem chatatam.” (on the day of accounting, I will call to count their sin). In other words, they may be getting a pass today. However, in the future, I will remember what they did now and the future punishment will be enhanced.

The temptation here for the nation, their protagonist, is the spies. Like the nachash in the Creation story, they present themselves as good guys.  They show concern for the nation.  But they, literally, are snakes in the grass.

The command they violated was based on Hashem’s concession to Moshe, “shelach lecha” (“send for yourself”).  Hashem in this instance delegated to Moshe the authority to “command” a task.  Moshe provided the meraglim with a specific set of instructions in order to enable Am Yisrael to immediately thereafter enter the Land of Israel, without any further delay.

 Moshe had been their leader for a little over two years. He had not only led them out of Egypt, performing many miracles, and twice delivered the Torah, but he defended them from destruction after the sin of the Golden Calf. How could they pervert his command and then rebel against him? THIS was the violation of God’s command – not following the letter and spirit of Moshe’s directives. The consequences of their actions were so fatal that Moshe himself would never enter Eretz Yisroel!

The length of the punishment is forty years. Moshe defended them for forty days; Hashem even offered to destroy the Jewish People and start again with Moshe as the progenitor. Forty years, the period necessary to eliminate this entire generation, was the required consequence. This is more than paying mere lip service to the concept of measure for measure, this defines justice.

We cannot ever presume to understand Hashem’s plans and actions in this world. But, looking back, we can sometimes discern patterns. There was a pattern in the creation of Man and we can see a similar pattern in the creation of our nation. Great tragedies have befallen our nation and out of the ashes we have experienced a great re-birth and many, many miracles.

So we sit in our shelters, seeing the Hand of Hashem revealed minute by minute. When we look back, perhaps in a mere few days from now, we might well find that we witnessed Hashem completing the pattern of His third and final creation -- not the creation of  Adam HaRishon -- the prototypical man or the creation of Am Yisrael – the ultimate people, but the creation of Yemot HaMashiach – the purpose for all existence.

The Hidden Messages of Megillat Esther and the Power of 23 Sivan

 Many of us are old enough to remember when Iran used to be called Persia. Appropriately, From Persia to the Present is the theme of this fascinating article by our member Rabbi Paul Bloom. 

Megillat Esther is not merely a historical account of the Jewish people in ancient Persia. Like much of Tanach, it conceals within it deeper spiritual layers—codes, allusions, and prophecies that stretch far beyond its time. One of the most astonishing hidden messages in the Megillah relates to the ten sons of Haman and a shocking parallel in modern history.

The Ten Sons of Haman and the Shadow of Amalek

When the Megillah lists the ten sons of Haman who were hanged (Esther 9:6–10), certain Hebrew letters in their names are written unusually—some are small, and one is large. Specifically, the small letters are ת (Tav), ש (Shin), ז (Zayin), and the large letter is ו (Vav). In gematria (Hebrew numerology), these letters correspond to the Jewish year 5707—that is, 1946 in the secular calendar.

Why is this significant?

On October 16, 1946 (6 Tishrei 5707), ten top Nazi war criminals were executed by hanging following the Nuremberg Trials. One of them, Julius Streicher, a notorious Jew-hater and propagandist, reportedly cried out “Purimfest 1946!” as he was led to the gallows. The eerie parallel between Haman’s sons and these modern-day Amalekites is hard to ignore. It’s as if the Megillah whispered across the ages: “Ten sons of Haman will fall again.”

The Talmud teaches that Amalek is not just a nation but a spiritual force of hatred and opposition to the Jewish people. The Nazis were not merely political enemies; they were ideological Amalekites. The execution of ten of their leaders by hanging—on the exact year encoded in Megillat Esther—is a chilling fulfillment of this idea.

Parashat Shelach Lecha: The Ten Spies and the Sin Against the Land

This week’s Torah portion, Shelach, contains another story involving ten individuals—the ten spies (meraglim) who slandered the Land of Israel and dissuaded the people from entering it. Their actions caused a national tragedy. As a result, that entire generation was condemned to wander the desert and die without ever entering the Promised Land.

The common thread? Ten individuals whose actions had massive consequences for the Jewish people.

Just as Haman’s ten sons and the ten Nazis represented the spiritual force of Amalek, the ten spies represent another destructive force: internal opposition to Eretz Yisrael. Their sin was not merely fear—it was the creation of a false narrative about the Land of Israel, weakening the resolve of the nation to fulfill God’s command.

We must take this lesson seriously today. Any leader or influencer within the Jewish world who discourages or neglects to promote Aliyah—the return to our Land—is, perhaps unknowingly, walking in the footsteps of the meraglim. The message is clear: to speak against Eretz Yisrael is no small matter—it carries national, even generational, consequences.

The Power of 23 Sivan: From Darkness to Light

There is another gem hidden within Megillat Esther: the repeated mention of the 23rd of Sivan (Esther 8). This was the day when the second royal decree was issued by Mordechai and Esther—empowering the Jews to rise and defend themselves against their enemies.

Even after Haman’s execution on 17 Nissan, his genocidal decree remained in effect. But on 23 Sivan, hope returned. A new edict was written, translated into every language of the empire, and sent to all 127 provinces. The Jewish people were no longer victims—they were empowered.

The Sages and kabbalistic writings describe 23 Sivan as a spiritually potent day—a day when evil decrees can be overturned, when darkness begins to give way to light. As it says in Esther 8:15-16:

"And Mordechai went out from before the king in royal garments... and the city of Shushan rejoiced and was glad. The Jews had light, and joy, and gladness, and honor."

This verse became part of our Havdalah service—symbolizing transformation and hope.

How to Tap Into the Power of 23 Sivan

Many spiritual teachers recommend practical steps to draw blessing and protection on this special day:

Light two candles in honor of Esther and Mordechai.

Give charity:

• Use both hands when placing money in the tzedakah box.
• Give amounts that align with gematria:
• 72 (Chesed - Kindness)
• 298 (Rachamim - Mercy)
• Direct the funds to poor Torah scholars or needy individuals in Israel.

Recite specific chapters of Tehillim (Psalms): Chapters: 22, 35, 79, 83, 94, 130, and 142

Read Chapter 8 of Megillat Esther.Pray from the heart—ask Hashem to overturn personal or national decrees of hardship.

Accept a new mitzvah into your daily life—a concrete act of spiritual growth.

From Persia to the Present – The Journey Continues

The messages of Megillat Esther and Parshat Shelach are timeless. They call us to vigilance against external enemies and inner doubts. They remind us that history is not random—it is guided by Divine Providence, encoded with lessons and hints meant to awaken us.

As we approach this 23rd of Sivan, let us remember: history can turn on a single day. A sealed decree can be overturned. A people marked for destruction can become a nation cloaked in joy.

May this Thursday, 23 Sivan, be a day of great light and gladness for all of Am Yisrael—a day when sorrow turns to celebration, fear to strength, and exile to redemption.

100 reasons for making Aliyah

The desire to make Aliyah is already there, writes Rabbi Paul Bloom--but how do we convert that desire into meaningful action? The answer is that you have to start with a plan. Let Paul explain in his own words:

Almost everyone reading this article has some connection to Eretz Yisrael. For some, it’s family. For others, it’s Zionism—or simply a deep love for the Land that Hashem gave us as an eternal inheritance thousands of years ago.

But not everyone is ready to make Aliyah today. We all have real-life considerations—aging parents, growing children, employment commitments, or just fear of change. Still, for most, there is a spark—the quiet but persistent desire to one day live in the Land of our forefathers.

Right: The First Aliyah

Some are actively thinking about it now. Others envision it as a future goal. Whatever your time frame may be, it is important—no, essential—to begin thinking about the next step. Aliyah doesn’t happen in a day. It is a journey, and like any journey, it must begin with a plan.

Torah Foundations: Why Plan at All?

Some ask, “If Hashem wants me to be in Israel, won’t He take care of it? Why do I need to plan?” The Rambam himself faced a version of this question.

He was famously asked why he wrote that it is forbidden to live in Egypt—even though he himself lived there. The Radbaz, in a well-known teshuvah (responsum), explained that the Rambam’s residence in Egypt was temporary, and temporary residence is permitted when one has a clear intention and plan to move to Eretz Yisrael.

He referenced the Rambam’s commentary on Pirkei Avot (4:25), where he describes how temporary residence becomes halachically meaningful when it’s tied to a long-term spiritual goal.

In other words: Where you live now is only “temporary” if you're planning to be in Israel. Without a plan, it’s not exile with purpose—it’s just exile.

Aliyah Is a Process, Not an Event

Every Jew’s journey to Israel is unique. There is no single path and no one-size-fits-all answer. But the key is to start the process.

"הַכֹּל צָפוּי, וְהָרְשׁוּת נְתוּנָה" “All is foreseen, but the choice is given” (Pirkei Avot 3:15).
 Hashem sees the whole path, but we are still responsible for taking the next step.

Creating Your Aliyah Plan: Frameworks for Every Stage

1. For Those Ready in the Next 1–2 Years

You’ve already done some planning. Now it’s time to finalize and execute. Your to-do list may include:

●       Working with Aliyah organizations (e.g., Nefesh B’Nefesh, AACI, Olim Advisors)

●       Finding housing and employment

●       Choosing a community that fits your lifestyle and hashkafah

●       Securing legal documents, academic equivalencies, and professional licenses

●       Preparing children emotionally and educationally for the transition

2. For Mid-Career Professionals (Aliyah in 10–15 Years)

If you're not yet ready, don’t wait until “someday.” Now is the time to start laying the groundwork—especially financially.

✅ Real Estate as a Strategic Anchor
 

A group of families 25 years ago began planning together. They bought property in cities across Israel. Their investments grew approximately 15% annually. Many eventually retired in those very homes, having established a financial and physical connection decades earlier.

Left: The Second Aliyah

✅ Smaller Steps Count
 If large investments aren’t feasible, consider:

●       New housing developments with low down payments and delayed full payments

●       Using your U.S. home equity to finance property in Israel

●       Planning to rent instead of buy—while still researching communities to settle in

"אֵין הַדּוֹמֶה שְׁמִיעָה לִרְאִיָּה"  “Hearing is not like seeing” (Midrash Tanchuma).
 Owning—or even visiting—your future home in Israel makes it real, not just theoretical.

3. For Students and Young Adults

This is the best time to plan. Align your academic and career decisions with a future life in Israel:

●       Explore Israeli universities (many now offer English-language programs)

●       Research in-demand careers in Israel (e.g., hi-tech, medicine, education)

●       Consider spending a gap year or summer program in Israel

●       Begin building Hebrew fluency—language is a gateway to integration

"סוֹף מַעֲשֶׂה בְּמַחֲשָׁבָה תְּחִלָּה"  “The end of the deed begins in thought” (Sefer Yetzirah).  The seeds you plant now determine what will grow later.

4. For Those Who Are Retiring

If you're retired—or very close—making Israel the next chapter of your life is more than realistic. For many, it’s the fulfillment of a lifelong dream.

People often struggle between moving to Florida or making Aliyah. As someone who has experienced both, I can tell you: Florida cannot hold a candle to Israel.

Here, you have endless opportunities for learning, traveling, and engaging with Jewish history and community. The weather is beautiful year-round. The rhythm of Jewish life surrounds you. You belong.

Right: Aliyah today

If you have children or grandchildren in Israel, the decision becomes even easier. But even if you don’t, many retirees discover they actually spend more quality time with family in the U.S. by visiting 2–3 times a year than they did before making Aliyah.

And most importantly: this stage of life is ideal for a soft landing—if you've planned for it. Many retirees who prepared properly report a smoother, more meaningful transition.

"וְעַד זִקְנָה אֲנִי הוּא, וְעַד שֵׂיבָה אֲנִי אֶסְבֹּל"  “Even to your old age, I am He; and even to your gray hairs, I will carry you”
 —(Yeshayahu 46:4)
 Hashem doesn’t abandon us in later years—He carries us. And He can carry us home.

Conclusion: From Longing to Living

Aliyah is not only for the idealistic, the young, or the retired—it’s for every Jew. But desire alone is not enough. Desire becomes destiny when it’s paired with a plan.

Wherever you are on your journey—just beginning to dream, actively preparing, or somewhere in between—remember: The Land is waiting. Hashem is waiting. Your future is waiting.

You don’t need to know every detail.

Your plan doesn’t need to be perfect.

But you do need to start.

Rabbi Bloom can be reached at Aliya100reasons@gmail.com

No Pain, No Gain – A Call to Return and Rebuild

By all accounts, we are living through one of the most difficult chapters in modern Jewish history. The pain is nearly unbearable. Each fallen soldier is not merely a name or a statistic; each is a world lost, a soul extinguished. The collective anguish of our people is overwhelming. And the question must be asked: What can we do? Our member and regular contributor Rabbi Paul Bloom seeks to find an answer to this difficult question.

Some say, “Give in to our enemies’ demands, just so the bloodshed ends.” Others demand, “Fight with greater force and crush our enemies once and for all.” And as usual, the world applies to us a set of standards it uses for no other nation—demanding we show restraint even when under attack by barbaric terrorists. We are left with the inescapable truth: Only Divine intervention can save us.

But how do we merit Divine intervention?

The Shofar of Teshuvah

Parashat Beha’alotcha provides an essential clue:

וְכִֽי־תָבֹ֨אוּ מִלְחָמָ֜ה בְּאַרְצְכֶ֗ם עַל־הַצַּר֙ הַצֹּרֵ֣ר אֶתְכֶ֔ם וַהֲרֵעֹתֶ֖ם בַּחֲצֹצְרֹ֑ת וְנִזְכַּרְתֶּ֗ם לִפְנֵי֙ יְהֹוָ֣ה אֱלֹֽהֵיכֶ֔ם וְנוֹשַׁעְתֶּ֖ם מֵאֹיְבֵיכֶֽם׃

"When you go to war in your land against an enemy who oppresses you, you shall sound a teru'ah on the trumpets, and you shall be remembered before Hashem your God, and you shall be saved from your enemies." (Bamidbar 10:9)

The Rambam codifies this in Hilchot Ta’aniyot (1:1–2):

“It is a positive mitzvah from the Torah to cry out and blow trumpets when trouble comes upon the community… This is one of the paths of repentance.”

The message is clear: Our strength does not lie in military might alone, but in spiritual awakening—prayer, repentance, and the return to God. When the enemy comes to take away our Land, our first and greatest weapon must be the shofar of teshuvah, reminding us that the battle is not only physical but spiritual.

But there is something else, something tangible we can do: Aliyah.

Defeating Our Enemies with Faith and Feet

It may seem counterintuitive to promote moving to Israel in the midst of war and instability, but that is precisely when it matters most. The massive wave of aliyah from the former Soviet Union disrupted the Arab narrative of eventual victory. Every Jew who enters the Land thwarts that narrative again. As some in the Land courageously declare, “For every Jew killed, a thousand Jews should come and build.” We must take up that cry—not just with slogans, but with suitcases.

One might ask: How can we possibly expect people to move to Israel under such dire circumstances? The answer lies in another episode from our parashah.

No Pain, No Gain: The Sin of Complaining

Chapter 11 opens with the tragic episode of Tav’eirah:

וַיְהִ֤י הָעָם֙ כְּמִתְאֹ֣נְנִ֔ים רַ֖ע בְּאׇזְנֵ֣י יְהֹוָ֑ה וַיִּשְׁמַ֤ע יְהֹוָה֙ וַיִּ֣חַר אַפּ֔וֹ וַתִּבְעַר־בָּם֙ אֵ֣שׁ יְהֹוָ֔ה וַתֹּ֖אכַל בִּקְצֵ֥ה הַֽמַּחֲנֶֽה׃

“And the people were like complainers; it was evil in the ears of Hashem.” (Bamidbar 11:1)

Rashi explains they were complaining about the hardships of the journey to Eretz Yisrael. What was Hashem's response? Anger. Why? Because the hardships were a sign of love—Hashem was trying to bring them into the Land quickly, compressing three days of travel into one (Bamidbar 10:33). But instead of seeing the pain as part of the process of redemption, they rejected it—and lost everything.

As Chazal teach:

"Eretz Yisrael is acquired only through suffering." (Berachot 5a)

Rather than accept that pain as part of the price for entering God’s Land, they complained. That moment led to a cascade of failures, including the sin of the spies and the decree to wander in the wilderness for forty years.

The lesson is simple: There is no spiritual reward without spiritual investment. We cannot expect to inherit the Land without struggle. But if we are willing to endure even modest sacrifices—financial uncertainty, language barriers, cultural adaptation—then Hashem will surely assist us and defeat our enemies.

Yitro’s Dilemma: Then and Now

Later in the parashah, we read the dialogue between Moshe and his father-in-law, Chovav (Yitro):

וַיֹּ֣אמֶר מֹשֶׁ֗ה לְ֠חֹבָ֠ב בֶּן־רְעוּאֵ֣ל הַמִּדְיָנִי֮ חֹתֵ֣ן מֹשֶׁה֒ נֹסְעִ֣ים ׀ אֲנַ֗חְנוּ אֶל־הַמָּקוֹם֙ אֲשֶׁ֣ר אָמַ֣ר יְהֹוָ֔ה אֹת֖וֹ אֶתֵּ֣ן לָכֶ֑ם לְכָ֤ה אִתָּ֙נוּ֙ וְהֵטַ֣בְנוּ לָ֔ךְ כִּֽי־יְהֹוָ֥ה דִּבֶּר־ט֖וֹב עַל־יִשְׂרָאֵֽל׃

"We are journeying to the place of which Hashem said: I will give it to you. Come with us… and we will do good for you." (Bamidbar 10:29)

Yitro declines, citing his homeland, his family, and his possessions. The commentators debate his motives: comfort, health, family, wealth, or a desire to influence others spiritually from afar. Sound familiar?

Moshe responds by insisting: “Do not leave us... and the good that Hashem will do with us, we will share with you.”

Rabbi Yaakov Tzvi Mecklenberg, in HaKetav VeHaKabbalah, explains that Moshe was saying: Your decision can inspire the world. If a man of your stature leaves behind everything to join us in God’s Land, it will make waves across the nations. This, too, is a powerful Kiddush Hashem.

We must absorb that message today. Every Jew who makes aliyah—despite obstacles—becomes a beacon. Many cite the same excuses Yitro did: comfort, livelihood, family, safety, or religious mission abroad. But none outweigh the sanctity of living in the Land Hashem gave us.

The Call of Our Time

The message of Beha’alotcha is clear: When enemies rise against us, we must not only cry out to Heaven, but rise up on Earth. Aliyah is both a spiritual and strategic response. It is the fulfillment of Hashem’s promise to give us the Land—and a living declaration that we trust in that promise.

Now more than ever is the time. Let us not repeat the mistake of our ancestors at Tav’eirah, who turned back when they should have marched forward. Let us not be like Yitro, content to remain in comfort while others fight for the future of our people.

Let us rise up, beha’alotcha, and ascend together.

“Go with us… for Hashem has spoken good concerning Israel.”  And if we go—together—we will surely see that goodness with our own eyes.

So let us take Moshe's advice and convince your friends and family to the ascend to the place of which the Lord said, "I will give it to you”.

May the memory of our fallen be for a blessing, and may we merit the ultimate victory—of spirit, of nationhood, and of redemption.

Desires and destinations: Beha'alotecha 5785

The troubles, disappointments and disasters that visit the Jewish people on their trek through the Sinai desert begin in this week’s parsha. Moshe announces that “we are traveling now to our ultimate destination—the Land of Israel.” But, deep down in their hearts, the people are not really that anxious to go there. They have in their hearts and minds two options: remain in the desert and live a life of supernatural miracles and there become the dor de’ah—the generation of exclusive intellect and Torah knowledge, or return to Egypt, with all that this radical move would entail, physically and spiritually. 

The Torah will soon detail for us that neither of these options is acceptable. They will complain about the manna that falls from heaven daily and the seeming lack of variety in their meals. They don’t like the water supply, which is never guaranteed to them. They remember the good food that they supposedly had in Egypt.

According to Midrash, only a small minority actually wishes to return to Egypt on a permanent basis. They will press forward with Moshe to reach the promised Land of Israel, but they will do so reluctantly and half-heartedly. This leads inexorably to further rebellion, tragedy and the death of an entire generation – notwithstanding its being a dor de’ah – in the desert of Sinai. Our  parsha is a sad and depressing one, for we already know the end of the story. We can already see that this generation has doomed itself to desolation and destruction. 

Coming to the Land of Israel and its Jewish state, whether as a tourist and most certainly when someone immigrates, requires commitment and enthusiasm. Many who came to Israel over the past century did so  by default, but the country has truly been served and built by those who came with a sense of mission, purpose, happiness and expectation. 

Moshe’s clarion call, that “We are traveling to the place” of our destiny, echoes throughout the Jewish ages. Not all such calls are heard and even fewer are followed. Nevertheless, the call has resonated within the Jewish people throughout its history. It is that call, which  appears in today’s parsha, which is the same call that Moshe proclaimed millennia ago—the guiding motive for the existence of the State of Israel today. 

Just as then in the desert, there are options for Jews today. The many “Egypts” of the world beckon with their seeming allure but also possess great underlying faults and dangers. And there are those who wish to continue to live in a desert that demands nothing from them and contemplate themselves somehow as being a dor de’ah. History has always arisen and smitten these options from the Jewish future.  The long trek begun by Moshe and Israel in this week’s parsha continues. We hope that we are witnessing, at last, its final and successful conclusion. 

Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein        

You can access "A nation of complainers", Rabbi Wein's devar Torah for the same parashah last year, here.

It's a steal!

Continuing our series of pre-Shabbat Avot posts on the perek of the week, we return to Perek 2.

At Avot 2:8 Hillel cautions against various examples of excess. One of them reads like this:

מַרְבֶּה עֲבָדִים מַרְבֶּה גָזֵל

The one who increases [his] manservants increases theft.

This reads a little awkwardly for the modern Torah student because the vast majority of people today do not retain manservants: butlers, valets, footmen and the like are the domain of costume dramas. Since manservants are no longer a familiar part of daily life in Western society, if we want to see something of the servant’s bond of loyalty and sense of commitment to his master we have to refer to costume dramas like Downton Abbey or to literary works such as P. G. Wodehouse’s series of Jeeves books and Kazuo Ishiguro’s prize-winning novel The Remains of the Day.  

Faced with the problem of the lack of contemporary relevance, some commentators omit any discussion of this teaching (e.g. R’ Dan Roth, Relevance: Pirkei Avos for the 21st Century; R’ Yisroel Miller, The Wisdom of Avos). Strangely, other authors have gone retrograde, opting for “male slaves” (David N. Barocas’ translation of Me’am Lo’ez; Chanoch Levi’s translation of Ru’ach Chaim; Joseph G. Rosenstein; Reflections on Pirkei Avot); David Haddad’s French translation (Les Actions des Pères) does the same with “esclaves”. While no translations have jettisoned “manservants” for something more familiar like “employee” or “domestic employee”— the mishnah is often explained as applying to this modern concept.

If we take “manservant” literally in its classical English context, what do we see? A “gentleman’s gentleman,” a man who serves but is never servile, and whose wit and resources are entirely devoted to the needs of his master. Belonging at the bottom of the hierarchy of society, such a servant might be expected to earn the lowest of wages, a factor that might motivate him to supplement his meagre income through theft of his master’s property. In the case of any theft, the master with only one servant in his employ would have little difficulty in identifying the likely culprit. However, with a multitude of servants, not only would it be harder to point the accusatory finger at any individual suspect; it would also be much more difficult to supervise the duties and activities of all the servants, so opportunities for theft would themselves increase.

But if we transfer the context of this mishnah from the domestic sphere to the corporate world, we can see how very practical it is. Statistically speaking, some 75% of employees steal from their employers and around one-third of business bankruptcies have been triggered by the consequences of employee theft [Figures taken from here].

Finally there’s a neat twist to this mishnah in the explanation of R’ Shmuel de Ucida (Midrash Shmuel): whose thefts are we talking about? When a person has a larger staff than he can afford, it’s not the staff who work for him but he himself who does the thievery in order to pay for his bloated and overmanned establishment. This explanation works just as well in the commercial world as in the domestic one, as Gila Ross (Living Beautifully) observes.