The Blessings -- Poetry or Reality? VeZot Haberachah 5786

This piece by Rabbi Berel Wein ztz'l was kindly supplied by the Destiny Foundation.

Rashi points out that the blessings of Moshe to the Jewish people are based upon and mirror those of Yaakov at the end of the book of Bereshit. Some blessings are eternal and always valid, while others pertain only to the times in which they are given but have little relevance to other times. The blessings of both Yaakov and Moshe are of two distinct types; they focus on their locations in the Land of Israel and the traits and characteristics of their individual members as warriors, merchants, or scholars, and as part of the national fabric of the Jewish society. 

Over the long years of the exile of the Jews and their disappearance from the Land of Israel, these blessings have seemed to be pure poetry, detached from reality. However, the words of the Torah are eternal and therefore in our time these blessings have again acquired relevance and actuality. We are once again a society of warriors, sailors, scholars, merchants and farmers. All these traits, that we were preventing from demonstrating  during our long sojourn in exile, have once again come to the fore in our daily lives. So, the blessings of Moshe have immediate and deep meaning to our generation and to the society in which we live. Perhaps this is part of the connection to the past, to which Moshe refers in the introduction to his blessings, a connection not only to the blessings of Yaakov but also to the original Jewish inhabitants of the Land of Israel millennia ago. 

Part of the blessing that Moshe has bequeathed to us is the fact that, even though no person is completely replaceable, it is also the case that no person is indispensable. If there is any one person about whom the Jewish people would feel that they could not do without, it was Moshe. Nevertheless, his influence and teachings remain with us thousands of years after his death, and Jewish people have continued throughout human history. 

The reality of human mortality is coupled with the miracle of Jewish eternity. All of us live on through the future success and development of the Jewish people. Those who are unconditionally attached to the Jewish people, heart and soul, are attached to an eternity that is not subject to the nature of human mortality. This is because of our attachment to the God of Israel who has proclaimed that “you who adhere to the Lord your God are all still alive even today.” 

That is the point that Moshe wishes to impress upon us in this final chapter of the Torah. Moshe lives on through the Torah that he taught us and through the people of Israel whom he helped form and lead during his lifetime. This idea of comfort and eternity is truly the great blessing that he bestowed upon us. All of the other detailed blessings, important and vital as they are, are nevertheless only corollaries to this great blessing of eternity and continuity. 

"Being True to Ourselves", Rabbi Wein's article on this parashah for Hanassi Highlights last year, is available here.

In praise of Sukkot

This piece by Rabbi Berel Wein zt'l comes from the Destiny Foundation archives. 

Sukkot comes at exactly right time of the year, psychologically and emotionally speaking. If it were not for the advent of Sukkot and all the preparations involved regarding this festival of joy and happiness, we would all be very depressed at having to climb down from the pinnacle of Yom Kippur to everyday mundane existence.

The Torah allows us to contemplate our future year with a sense of happiness and satisfaction. The sukkah signifies the protection that the Lord will provide us with for the whole coming year. Though the actual sukkah may be small and relatively flimsy as compared to our homes, it nevertheless symbolizes faith, serenity and confidence in the eternity of Israel and its Torah.

The four species of vegetation that are an integral part of Sukkot reinforce our appreciation of the beauty of God’s world. It reminds us that the world can be a Garden of Eden and we should endeavor not to destroy it or be expelled from it.

The different species represent the harmony of nature, the flash of its color and its built-in symbiotic nature. Whereas pagans worshipped nature, Judaism stressed its role as being one of the great wonders of God’s creation.

Abraham had it right when he stated that people wonder at the magnificence of a beautiful building but ignore the genius of the architect that designed it. Judaism, while always impressed by the wonder of the building itself, always looks intently to recognize and acknowledge the architect behind it.

Sukkot helps remind us of the necessity to always search for that architect in all of the facets of our lives and world.

Sukkot also reveals clearly our dependence upon Heaven for rain – for water. Without water in abundance, life cannot function and grow. The Torah tells us that the Lord sent us purposely into a land where water is a precious commodity. There are no great rivers or giant lakes that appear on the landscape of the Land of Israel. We are therefore dependent on the winter season’s rains.

We pray on Sukkot for those rains to be abundant, gentle and saturating. Rain has a cleansing effect not only on the air we breathe but on the life spirit that exists within us. Hence its deep association with the joy of Sukkot.

Rain and water also symbolize Torah and purification. Moshe, in his final oration to Israel, states that his words of Torah should be felt as gentle rain and dew descending on the Holy Land. The prophet Yeshayahu compares Torah to water as does King David in Tehillim.

The holiday of Sukkot reinforces this connection with its own link to Simchat Torah, the day that marks the conclusion of this great and noble holiday period. For as obvious as it is that the Land of Israel cannot survive and prosper without water, so too the people of Israel will be unable to prosper and survive without an attachment to Torah, its commandments and values. The message of Sukkot is the perfect conclusion to the spirituality of Yom Kippur.

The Song of Moshe: Ha'azinu 5786

This piece by Rabbi Berel Wein ztz'l has been kindly provided by the Destiny Foundation.

This song of Moshe is the song of the Jewish story. It accurately portrays the arc of Jewish history in moments both glorious and dolorous. The Ramban’s comment on the holiness and accuracy of Moshe’s prophetic words – “If someone stood up and accurately foretold what would happen many centuries later, would not one in hindsight be forced to admit to the truth of that prophet and his words upon seeing the minute fulfillment of that prophecy” –carries even more weight in our age, being a further eight centuries removed from Ramban’s time. 

Moshe calls forth the heaven and earth to bear witness to his words of prophecy, for he is aware that human logic and memory can never really be trusted. Unfortunately, memory can be dimmed and lost, and logic distorted or ignored. It is these factors – lost memory and flawed logic – that Moshe identifies as the cause of the sins of the Jewish people, and of much of the predicted travail that will accompany them throughout their history. 

It is not so much that there is a rebellion against God and Torah in our current society. Rather, it is that God and Torah have simply been forgotten, erased from the Jewish consciousness. For many Jews they simply do not exist. And in this climate of almost willful forgetfulness, any attempt to convince others of the errors of their ways by the use of logic is doomed to frustrating failure. 

Moshe concludes his visionary verses on an optimistic note. The covenantal relationship between God and Israel will remain binding and unbroken even unto the end of days. There will always be a core group of Jews who will not allow themselves—or others—to forget. Events will constantly jog the Jewish memory and new generations will arise and ask: “Who are we and why are we here?” And the response to those questions can only be found in the eternal memory bank of the Jewish people and their history. 

It is a very difficult task to restore memory but the fact that Moshe promises us that God and Torah will never be completely forgotten by the Jewish people reassures us that the restoration of Jewish memory is possible, and even guaranteed. And our logic will not fail us either. When we survey our world and our situation, we will reach the logical and holy conclusion as to what our policy and path in life should be. A nation of wisdom and insight, creativity and scholarship, will not always remain illogical and foolish. 

Moshe also encourages us by promising that eventually our enemies will be vanquished and shamed. Their nefarious ambitions will be thwarted and the Lord will balance all accounts with those who attempted to destroy the Jewish people. Good sense, accurate memory, strength of purpose and clarity of ideals will prevail and rule the Jewish world. Moshe’s song will continue to be heard throughout eternity. 

 "Our Two Great Poems", Rabbi Wein's piece for Hanassi Highlights last year, can be accessed here.

Repentance and return -- the long way back: Vayelech 5786

We thank the Destiny Foundation for providing us with this essay by Rabbi Wein ztz'l

Vayelech is the parashah that contains the smallest number of verses—just 30—of any parsha in the Torah. It also usually coincides with Shabat Shuva, the holy Shabbat between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Its words are part of the last testament of Moshe, uttered on the day of his passing from this earth. 

As is his wont, Moshe minces no words regarding the fate of the Jewish people. In this most powerful of parshiyot, Moshe warns his people Israel that the Lord will hold them accountable to the terms of the covenant of Sinai—a covenant that is irreversible and unalterable. It will take the Jewish people a long time and much twisting and turning before they accept the reality of covenantal responsibility. But Moshe assures them that eventually the message will set in, and that this will be the basis for the Jewish return to God and His Torah.  This is the essence of Vayelech’s content; the brevity of the parashah only serves to enhance the power of its message. 

Some truths are self-evident and need no extra words or explanations. This parashah gains in power and relevance as Jewish history unfolds over thousands of years. Every deviation from the covenant of Sinai has eventually brought with it angst and pain, if not disaster, in the Jewish world. Just dip into Jewish history and you will see how Moshe’s words are clearly vindicated by subsequent events. 

Repentance and return is far easier for individuals to achieve than for nations. The Jewish people, or at least a significant part of it ,has strayed far away from the covenant of Sinai. The situation here in Israel is far better than it is in the Diaspora where intermarriage, ignorance, alienation and false gods have eroded Jewish faith, family, self-identity and values.

So how is it possible to hope for a national return to the covenant of Sinai under such circumstances? Vayelech seems to indicate that it will be a process and not a sudden epiphany. The prophet in the haftarah warns that no such process will be complete without recognition that the false gods and temporarily popular ideals all have led nowhere. He echoes Moshe’s words in our parashah that return and repentance in a national sense can only occur if there is a realization how badly we have gone astray. 

The great challenge, of the modern culture around us, is how pervasive it is in every facet of our lives. The confusion that this engenders in the Jewish people prevents clear thinking, accurate judgment and honest assessment of true Jewish values versus current faddish correctness. 

Vayalech is short—but our way back is long and arduous. In the good and blessed year that we have just begun let us start—and then continue—that journey that leads back to Sinai, but forward to complete national redemption. 

Eight People We Met on the Way Home: Book of the Month (Tishrei 5786)

Since Rabbi Wein zt’l was such a passionate advocate of aliyah for all, so often reminding his congregants and his wider audiences of the God-given connection between us and our land, it seems only appropriate to select one of his titles as Book of the Month for Chodesh Tishrei—and we have chosen for this purpose Eight People We Met on the Way Home—published in 2024 as the book of the lecture series on the major personalities involved in the return of the Jewish Nation to the Land of Israel.

For the record, the eight in question span a wide range of aptitudes, philosophies and religious orientations: they include characters as diverse as Rabbi Naftali Zvi Yehuda Berlin (the Netziv), Chaim Weitzman and Louis Brandeis. As the book’s webpage explains:

In a world of propaganda and controversy, Rabbi Wein takes you on a journey through 8 lives that were inextricably tied with the emergence of the Israel of today—and reveals truths you’ve been waiting to discover. Eight People We Met on the Way Home is an all-new riveting, emotion-laden narrative by world-renowned “Voice of Jewish History”.

It’s a lovely book and an easy read, with large, clear print and plenty of illustrations—some quite unexpected (Kaiser Wilhelm II and Giuseppi Garibaldi, the only great European political figure to have a biscuit named after him).

You can enjoy this book by borrowing the copy we have in the Beit Knesset library—but be sure to return it. Many books by Rabbi Wein that start off on our shelves end up in the private collections of people who have borrowed them.

"Are You With Us or Against Us?"

 Here's another piece by Rabbi Wein zt'l, drawn from the Destiny Foundation archives, on the importance of self-assessment on Rosh Hashanah.

On Rosh Hashanah we stand in judgment before our Creator. But we are not mere passive defendants standing in the dock awaiting a verdict in our trial. Instead, we take the liberty of submitting requests, suggestions and sometimes even demands to our Heavenly Judge. We pray for life and health, prosperity and wisdom, family and national stability, as well as for redemption, peace, serenity and meaningful success.

That is quite a long and impressive list of requests that we submit to the Almighty. It is part of the ethos of Judaism that such requests are allowed, if not even encouraged, by the Lord. These requests illustrate our dependence upon God and our inability to have hope, direction and planning in our lives without Heavenly aid and grace.

The doors of Heaven, the gates of prayer, are thrust wide open for us on the High Holy days and the Ten Days of Repentance—and we are bidden to take advantage of that situation with our prayers, requests and demonstrations of our improved social and religious behavior. It would be foolish in the extreme to ignore and not take advantage of such an opportunity to ask for what we need in our personal and national life.

Though the results of the judgments of Rosh Hashanah are not immediately clear, we are nevertheless in an optimistic mood and we celebrate the day in a holiday mode with feasting, family and friends. It is the connection with eternity and Heaven that Rosh Hashanah affords that transforms an otherwise day of tension and awe into one of holy serenity and satisfaction.

But Rosh Hashanah is a two-way street. It is not only our turn to ask God for what we want, but it is also a day when God, so to speak, also informs us what He requires from us. Judaism is a faith of mutually binding covenants between God and the Jewish people, collectively and individually. The rabbis taught us that, first and foremost, God wants our hearts. He wants sincerity and faith, belief and discipline, strength of character and good will. He abhors falsehood and hypocrisy, mendacity and venality.

The prophet taught us that the Lord desires that we act justly, love kindness, show mercy to others and to walk humbly in God’s ways. He demands that we live up to our side of the covenant, that we observe His commandments and sanctify His Holy Days and Shabbat by our behavior and demeanor. He wishes us to have an appreciation and knowledge of our past and a vision for our future. He would like us to share His view, so to speak, of the Jewish people as being a kingdom of priests and a holy nation—a unique treasure amongst all of the peoples of the world.

He also wishes that each and every one of us realizes that he or she is a special unique individual, not just a faceless number in a world of billions. People who feel special are special. Our self-judgment in our hearts influences our Heavenly judgment on Rosh Hashanah too: God invites us, so to speak, to judge ourselves in conjunction with the Heavenly court. Therefore we state in our prayers that every person’s signature appears on the verdict of the Heavenly court. We are equal partners in our judgment and in the outcome.

The national hopes of the Jewish people also find expression on Rosh Hashanah. No Jew is exempt from the destiny of the Jewish people as a whole. Our past century of sad and tragic experiences clearly indicates the futility of daring to imagine that the Jewish covenant allows individuals to opt out of it at will. Solidarity with the Jewish faith and people, with the state of Israel and with the eternal Torah is the guarantee of individual Jewish survival and meaning.

Joshua, upon encountering the angel in his tent, asked only question: "Are you with us or are you against us and with our enemies?" Unfortunately many Jews, deluded by "humanitarian" sloganeering, wittingly or unwittingly cannot answer Joshua’s question correctly. Rosh Hashanah allows us to look within ourselves and to declare to the God of Israel that we are truly with Him and with our people.

We wish to be inscribed in the book of eternal life and Jewish glory and not, God forbid, on the pages of Jewish perfidy and shame. Rosh Hashanah provides us with a wide range of important choices that have eternal consequences. May we always choose wisely and correctly.

The Ultimate Selfie

The following piece, written by Rabbi Wein zt'l in 2014, is as relevant now as it was on the day it was written.

The Torah emphasizes hat the day of Rosh Hashanah is a day of remembrance and of memory. Heaven can recall everything and everyone; human beings, less so. Human memory is selective, arbitrary and—many if not most times—faulty and inaccurate. 

People have often told me that they heard me say such-and-such in a public lecture and I have no recollection whatsoever of having ever publicly said something so inane. My memory is often faulty and betrays me when I need it. But the hearing of my listeners is often also impaired. People tend to hear whatever they wish to hear, even if the speaker never really said those words. 

All of this is part of our human condition, our frailties and our mortal nature. And it is a great and truly awesome (how I despise that word as it is used in current society!) experience on Rosh Hashanah to encounter Heaven’s perfect memory and faculty of total recall. 

It is not only that all our actions and words, thoughts and intentions are remembered and judged, but it is that they are remembered objectively and truthfully without personal prejudice or bias. That makes Rosh Hashanah the “Day of Remembrance.” There are people who are blessed with great powers of memory. But even they are fallible. Maimonides, one of the great geniuses of memory of all time, admitted that once he could not at first recall the source in the Talmud that would justify a decision that he rendered in his monumental work, his Mishneh Torah. If he could forget, then who will not also forget?! Only Heaven is not burdened with forgetfulness. 

This leads us to a basic question regarding our memories: what do we choose to remember and what do we sublimate and choose to forget? The Torah instructs us over and over again not to forget the basic principles of Jewish life:  God and the Torah revelation at Sinai, the exodus from Egypt, the sins of slander and gossip, the sanctity of the Sabbath, the continuing enmity of Amalek and much of the non-Jewish world towards the people of Israel, and finally the tendency of the Jews from the time of the Sinai desert till today to anger God by backsliding on obligations and covenantal undertakings. 

We have chosen to remember other less important things in life—foolish statements and imagined slights, unimportant statistics and false opinions, our jealousy of others and their achievements—while at the same time consigning the basic memories that should guide our lives to the dustbin of oblivion. 

Rosh Hashanah demands an accounting of our memory and our forgetfulness. The prophet long ago proclaimed that Israel was unfaithful because “I (God) was forgotten.” It is only forgetting that begets the ignorance of one’s heritage, faith and self. And it is that very ignorance that creates the climate of sin and assimilation, secularism and violence, greed and avarice that threatens our very existence as a people and a state. Woe to those who no longer remember for, without awareness of their past, their future is doomed! 

On Rosh Hashanah we read in the exalted prayers of the day that there exists, so to speak, a book of remembrances in Heaven—of memory. And in that book, each and every one of us has a page dedicated to our activities and behavior in our life on this earth. Not only that, but our signature and seal appears on that page, attesting to the veracity of what is written there. That page reminds us of what we have forgotten, and whether we willed that forgetfulness or otherwise. 

Eventually, after we have departed from this earth, our true and accurate powers of memory are restored to our souls. And, as the prayer records for us, the page literally speaks for itself, announcing the events and occurrences listed. So the ultimate day of judgment, just as the Rosh Hashanah day of judgment here on earth, is the day of memory and recollection. 

Remembering is the true catalyst for repentance and self-improvement. To put it into the current common vernacular, Rosh Hashanah should serve as one’s ultimate “selfie.” For that attitude of self-appearance is reflective of our fascination to remember and to know ourselves deeply and truly. On the day that everything is remembered in Heaven, we on earth should also strive to remember our past actions, attitudes and behavior.

Taking responsibility: Nitzavim 5785

 This essay by Rabbi Wein ztz'l has been kindly furnished by the Destiny Foundation.

One of the shortest parshiyot of the Torah, Nitzavim is however one of the most important in its message to the people of Israel. It features Moshe’s final oration to his people after more than 40 years of leadership, to be heard not only by his immediate audience but by each subsequent generation. 

Moshe reminds his listeners that there is an eternal covenant between God and Israel. The Lord will not allow the Jewish people to wriggle out of that commitment. Many strange things will happen to the people of Israel over its many centuries of existence. There will be events that are beyond human understanding or comprehension. 

God’s mind and actions, so to speak, remain inscrutable and beyond our judgment, let alone our reason. Moshe warns us that “the hidden things are the matter of the Lord but what is clear and revealed to us is that we are to remain faithful to this covenant [of Sinai and of Moshe]”. No matter how the Jewish people twist and turn to avoid keeping their side of the covenant, they remain bound by its consequences and results. Moshe warns them that eventually a high price would be exacted from the Jewish people for the abandonment of this covenant.  He advises them not to be too clever: times change, technology improves and there are new discoveries in God’s world—but the covenant of God with Israel remains as ever it was. Acceptance of this truth is the only way to deal with Jewish history and with all of the issues of Jewish life—past, present and future. 

The word “nitzavim” is key to conveying the above message to us with clarity and in perspective. The word suggests not only “present and accounted for” but also “upright and formidable”. Moshe fears that the Jewish people might feel unworthy and not strong enough for the rigors of the covenant. He reminds them of their true strength and capabilities. Moshe knows that a lack of self-confidence will automatically defeat the intent and goal of the covenant. If someone says “I cannot do it,” then that certainly becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy of failure.

Moshe reminds the Jewish people that they are “nitzavim”—strong, capable, resilient and able to stand up to all crises and problems. Moshe appeals to their self-image and inner strength. This attitude is both necessary and correct in the lead-up to the High Holy days. One cannot appeal to God, so to speak, on the basis of personal incompetence and weakness of will and vision. It is like requesting further cash flow from lenders into an obviously failing venture. 

When we pass before our Creator, during the Days of Judgment just ahead, we should do so with strong backs and confident hearts. We can and should say “Continue to invest in me and my family and generations. We will not desert the covenant, nor shall we fail You.”   

For "Renewing the Covenant", Rabbi Wein's essay on Nitzavim-Vayelech last year, click here.     

A living link in the chain of destiny

 Here''s the full text of Rabbi Kenigsberg's speech at the Sheloshim for Rabbi Wein et'l, delivered at Beit Knesset Hanassi on 14 September 2025. The full proceedings of the Sheloshim, including Rabbi Kenigsberg's speech, can also be viewed on YouTube, here.

As we gather tonight to mark the Sheloshim for Moreinu veRabbeinu, Rav Berel Wein zt”l, finding words of hesped feels no easier now, than it did 30 days ago. If anything, with time to reflect, the sense of loss is even greater, and the void more keenly felt.

Over these weeks, I have often caught myself instinctively wondering: What would Rabbi Wein say? Faced with a dilemma, confronted by the turmoil of our times, I have longed for his sharp, clear voice - the voice that could, in a moment, place events into perspective and set our minds at ease. That voice is no longer here, and how bereft we feel.

In keeping with Rabbi Wein’s wishes, our remarks tonight will be brief. But the outpouring of tributes from across the length and breadth of the Jewish world reminds us of what we already knew: Rabbi Wein was a connector of worlds. Who else could be admired and loved by the President of the State of Israel and at the same time revered in the halls of Satmar Chassidut? To all of them, and to all of us, Rabbi Wein was the voice of Torah, the voice of the Jewish people. He showed us our place in the eternal story of Am Yisrael and charged us with the mission of writing its next chapter.

Many times he would recall the verse we recite in Shofarot of Mussaf of Rosh Hashana:

וַיְהִי קוֹל הַשֹּׁפָר הוֹלֵךְ וְחָזֵק מְאֹד מֹשֶׁה יְדַבֵּר וְהָאֱלֹקים יַעֲנֶנּוּ בְקוֹל

 In his own words, penned just three years ago in Majesty, Memory and Resonance – Insights on Musaf for Rosh Hashana, he captured the verse’s meaning thus:

“When Human beings sound shofar blasts, the sound weakens as the length of the note increases. The Ba’al Tokeah simply runs out of breath. But the sound of the shofar at Sinai emanated from Heaven and had eternity encased within it. The sound of that Shofar did not weaken in time, but rather continued and strengthened.

That mighty sound came to symbolize Torah itself: not only has it maintained itself in Jewish life over millenia, it has the uncanny ability to become stronger and evermore resonant as the generations of Israel proceed… one of the great phenomena of our time… has been the resurgence of Torah study on a mass scale in Jewish populations the world over… the sound of the shofar at Sinai never weakens or abates…

The verse states… Moshe yedaber… the Torah uses the past perfect form of the verb “to speak”. It infers that Moshe not only spoke in the past, but that he continues to speak, even in the present and future.

This is the timeless quality of Torah; it has the ability to speak to every generation, providing values and guidance under all human circumstances.”

 Moshe yedaber, veHaElokim ya’anenu bekol. Rabbi Wein heard that eternal voice of Torah echoing through the generations and the events of our day - and when he spoke, he allowed us to hear it too.

Rabbi Wein was a bridge. A bridge across communities and ideologies, and a bridge across generations. His countless students are proof of that. There is hardly a rabbi in the English-speaking world today who does not, in some way, see himself as a talmid of Rabbi Wein. Though renowned for his history tapes, lectures, and books, Rabbi Wein never simply recounted the past. He revealed history not as a chronicle of what once was, but as a living continuum – in which we each take part. To sit in his presence was to sense the company of the Gedolim of the past. How many times did a conversation with him begin “The Ponovezher Rav told me...” or the like. Now it is upon us to keep his presence alive for the generations to come.

Rabbi Wein was a living link in the great chain of Jewish destiny. In a world of confusion, he was an anchor of clarity. He had the rare gift of making the complex simple: That’s what’s written in the Torah. What more do you need?

As we enter the Yamim Noraim without his guiding voice, the loss is especially sharp. Yet his charge to us is clear: to carry forward his lessons, his love of Torah, his faith in HaKadosh Baruch Hu, and his unwavering commitment to the Jewish people. May we be worthy to do so, and ensure that his voice continues to resound – not only for us but for generations to come.

Learning from our errors: Ki Tavo 5785

Here is another piece of Rabbi Wein ztz'l's Torah legacy, which we are privileged to share.

This week’s Torah reading describes two very different situations in Jewish life that have been present throughout our long history as a people. One is when we inhabited and controlled our own land—the Land of Israel. That is clearly indicated in the opening words of the parsha—“ki tavo”—when you will come into your land. The second, much more difficult, situation is recorded in the bitter, lengthy and detailed description of the lot of the Jewish people in exile, scattered amongst hostile nations and subject to violent hatreds. 

Over the many millennia of the Jewish story, we have been in exile far longer than we were at home in the Land of Israel. The recounting of the troubles and persecutions resulting from the exile of Israel from its land occupies greater space (and perhaps even greater notice) in the parsha than does the section relating to our living in Israel. 

Our land carries with it special commandments and rituals as described in the parsha such as various types of ‘ma’aser’ (tithing) and ‘bikurim’ (the first fruits of the agricultural year). Our exile from it poses problems of extinction and continued tension, fear and a constant state of uncertainty. In the words of the parsha, the conditions of the exile were capable of driving people into insanity and fostered hopelessness. 

Yet the strange, almost unfathomable result of exile is that the Jewish people survived, and at times even thrived, under these hostile conditions, while our record as a national entity living in our own country was much spottier. Jews are a special people—but our behavior is oftentimes strange and counterproductive. We don’t seem to deal too well with success and stability. 

By the grace of God we are once again back in our land. Having read the words of the parsha, in all of its terror, literally fulfilled in our own lifetimes, we have nevertheless restored our national sovereignty, built a wonderful country and an intriguing society, and are engaged in facing great challenges as to our future development here. 

We would be wise to remember why we failed in the past in our nation-building and why, paradoxically, we succeed in achieving major successes while in exile and under very negative circumstances. Straying from the path of Torah and tradition has always brought us to harm. The pursuit of alien cultures and fads is no way to fulfill our national interest and purpose. 

Our historical experiences, both in Israel and in the exile, have taught us that it is extremely foolhardy to repeat our errors. Returning to our land carries with it the challenges of living in holiness and having a special relationship with our Creator. Our efforts should be concentrated in strengthening and broadening that relationship. It may be wise for us to discard the bath water of the exile now that we have returned home. But we must preserve at all costs the baby—the Torah and its values—that has brought us home to the land that the Lord has promised to us. 

For "Jewish History in Just Two Scenarios" Rabbi Wein's piece on parashat Ki Tavo last year, click here.

What's inside the Selichot?

Here are some further thoughts on Selichot, penned by Rabbi Wein zt’l back in 2017.

The custom of reciting selichot –- penitential prayers –-preceding Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur is an ancient one. It dates back to the period of the Geonim in Babylonia ,if not to Talmudic times.  There are different customs as to when to begin reciting these prayers. Most Sephardic and Middle Eastern Jewish congregations begin the recitation of selichot at the beginning of the month of Elul while European Jewish communities begin their recitation the week preceding Rosh Hashanah itself. 

Over the centuries the number of piyutim available for the selichot recitation has increased exponentially. There are many hundreds of such selichot piyutim in our repertoire of religious poetry. A substantial number of them were composed during the early and later Middle Ages and were the work of the great men of both the Ashkenazic and Sephardic worlds. 

It was commonly accepted and even expected that Torah scholars would produce such selichot. Some of the greatest sages of Israel, such as Rashi, Rabbenu Gershom, Rabbi Asher ben Yechiel and others, are represented in the Ashkenazic version of the selichot services. 

In later times, especially in the modern era, the number and authorship of the selichot has become fixed, though even in the Ashkenazic tradition there is quite a difference between the selichot of German, Lithuanian, and Polish custom. Needless to say, all of these Ashkenazic versions of selichot vary widely from the piyutim recited by the Middle Eastern Sephardic communities—and there too there are differences between certain localities and ethnic groups. 

The basic prayer of selichot, upon which all various communities agree, is the recitation of the thirteen so-called attributes of the Almighty. These are revealed to us in the Torah when Moshe hid his face in the presence of the Divine spirit passing over him. The recitation of this Torah description of Godly attributes is one of the central themes of Yom Kippur, when we recite this section of selichot numerous times during the prayer services of the day.  In fact, the climactic prayer of Neilah on Yom Kippur incudes the recitation of these thirteen attributes thirteen times! It is as though this prayer, ordained so to speak by God, is the only weapon left in our arsenal of prayer and tears that will deliver us to life and goodness. The theme of the High Holy Days is to call to our Creator when He is close to us and can be easily reached. The recitation of the selichot prayers, from before Rosh Hashanah until through the day of Yom Kippur, reinforces this idea of closeness and immediacy with the divine and the infinite. 

Selichot is an invaluable conduit to achieve this exalted connection with godliness and spirituality. It is no wonder that throughout the ages the Jewish people have constantly observed and even strengthened this custom in our never-ending quest for soulful spirituality. Early hours of rising and devotion testify to the level that all Jewish communities dedicate to this custom of penitential prayer. 

What I have always found interesting and noteworthy in the piyutim of selichot is that most of them are concerned with the sorry state of the Jewish people in our long and bitter exile. It is as though we not only expect to be forgiven for our sins and shortcomings but that we also implore Heaven to intercede on our behalf and improve our lot in life. 

Except for the Ashamnu prayer, the selichot piyutim reveal very little contrition or assumption of guilt for sins on our part. It is as though we are saying to Heaven that the deplorable circumstances of Jewish life in the exile are why we are unable to fulfill our spiritual obligations on a constant and productive basis. This emphasis on national calamity, rather than on personal guilt, points out to us that the High Holy Days are not merely a personal experience but a national one as well. We are all in this together and the eternal covenant of Sinai joins all of us into one unit. Every Jew’s personal fate is intertwined with our national fate and future. 

And in an even further leap, the prayers of Rosh Hashanah tie us all as human beings to common fates and challenges. In Judaism, the individual, the national and the universal are all bound together in judgment and in blessing. Therefore there can be no better introduction to and understanding of the holy days that are coming upon us than the prayers of the selichot services.

For ""Of Emotions, Memories and a Sense of Purpose", Rabbi Wein zt'l's previous post on Selichot, click here

Torah and History

Rabbi Wein ztz'l was renowned for his perspicacious comments on the State of the Jewish Nation and how important it is for us to learn the lessons of the past when boldly facing our future. The following post has been composed as a perspective on history in Rabbi Wein's honor, by Rabbi Steven Ettinger.

I am writing this piece three weeks after the funeral of our esteemed and beloved Mara d’Atra, Rabbi Wein. The day following this Shabbat we will be gathering to mark his sheloshim. I am limiting myself to just those two adjectives—esteemed and beloved—as there is a nearly endless fount of words and phrases that could be used to describe his accomplishments, abilities and impact. Like many of you, I attended eulogies, read articles about his life, listened to podcasts and viewed videos—entirely fitting insofar as these are all media that he mastered in order to communicate his teachings to millions.

So many others are better positioned to appreciate his essence and have a more intimate awareness of it that I will not even attempt to write anything about him. Instead, I will share a thought about this parashah of which Rabbi Wein, as a man of history, would most likely have been aware—and which I am sure he would certainly have appreciated.

The most noteworthy part of this parashah is the tochachah, the fearsome curses that would befall our people if they did not follow their covenant with Hashem (these curses have, in fact, befallen us, down to the most minute and sordid detail).

It is perplexing that, after forty years in the midbar and on the precipice of entering the Land of Israel, Am Yisrael would be subjected to having to hear and accept such a litany of horror. After all, their own parents were condemned to die as the result of a single sin. One midrash describes how, each year on Tisha b’Av, the entire nation dug graves and slept in them. Those who rose the next day knew they were spared, at least for another year. Thus they truly understood the consequences of failing to heed the word of God.

But the curses in our parashah were not directed at that particular generation: they were projected out towards history, and to a specific era of history.

This is the interpretation of a particularly shocking interpretation revealed by the Vilna Gaon. He declares that Sefer Devarim corresponds to the sixth millennium of world history. There are ten parshiyot in Devarim and each corresponds to a particular century (Nitzavim-Vayelech count as one). For example, Devarim corresponds to the years 1240-1340 (5,000-5100), Va’etchanan to 1340-1440 (5100-5200), etc. The years 1840-1940 would equate to Ki Savo – years filled with pogroms, the upheaval of World War I and the rise of Hitler and the Holocaust.

Of course, the Holocaust continued for five more years. These are alluded to in the parshiyot of Nitzavim-Vayelech which is our present era 1940-2040:

וַיִּחַר־אַ֥ף ה בָּאָ֣רֶץ הַהִ֑וא לְהָבִ֤יא עָלֶ֙יהָ֙ אֶת־כׇּל־הַקְּלָלָ֔ה הַכְּתוּבָ֖ה בַּסֵּ֥פֶר הַזֶּֽה׃

וַיִּתְּשֵׁ֤ם ה מֵעַ֣ל אַדְמָתָ֔ם בְּאַ֥ף וּבְחֵמָ֖ה וּבְקֶ֣צֶף גָּד֑וֹל וַיַּשְׁלִכֵ֛ם אֶל־אֶ֥רֶץ אַחֶ֖רֶת כַּיּ֥וֹם הַזֶּֽה׃

Hashem’s anger flared against the land to bring against it the entire curse that is written in this book. And Hashem, removed them from their land with anger and wrath and great fury and he cast them to another land, as this very day.

It should be noted that the gematria of בְּאַ֥ף וּבְחֵמָ֖ה וּבְקֶ֣צֶף גָּד֑וֹל is the same as הפתרון הסופי, the final solution!

Our Torah is not a history book. Our Torah is history. While we have lost perhaps the greatest guide to viewing and appreciating Torah in this light, we can honor his legacy by continuing to appreciate how the knowledge of our Nation’s past enhances our learning and our perspective on Hashem’s plans for His world.

Of emotions, memories and a sense of purpose

This piece, from the Destiny Foundation archives, was penned by Rabbi Wein ztz’l back in 2012—but its message is as fresh and relevant as ever.

Next week, selichot—the penitential prayers that are added to the weekday morning prayer service—are recited in the synagogue according to Ashkenazic custom. Sephardic Jews have been reciting selichot in their morning prayer services since the start of the month of Elul. There are different customs even within these two main groupings of Jews as to which particular penitential prayer is recited on which of the days preceding Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. 

I have always been intrigued by the fact that most of the selichot prayers deal with the national angst and exile of the Jewish people rather than concentrating exclusively on the personal penitential aspect of the individual Jew who is actually doing the praying. Of course, many personal prayers are included in the selichot liturgy, but there is a strong focus on the plight of the Jewish people on a national and global scale—and this is expressed in terms that are powerfully emotive.  This is understandable since most of the selichot prayers were composed during the Middle Ages when the Jewish people, especially in Europe, found itself in desperate straits. Nevertheless, the emphasis on national troubles instead of personal failings carries with it a clear message about the reality of being Jewish. 

One’s individual fate and even the judgment of Heaven on Rosh Hashanah are inextricably bound to the general fate and welfare of the Jewish people as a whole. That is in reality the message of the book of Yonah that we read on Yom Kippur afternoon. Yonah knows that the storm that strikes the ship is because of him, so he answers his fellow passengers and shipmates who ask him to explain why these events are occurring with the simple words: “I am a Jew!” He sought to escape that reality but the Lord, by means of the storm on the sea, returned him to it. 

since the concept of selichot is, of necessity, national as well as personal, one cannot expect to survive spiritually and morally as a Jew by separating oneself from the Jewish people and its destiny. In effect, all those who deny their Jewishness, who substitute foreign ideologies and current political correctness for true Jewish Torah values, who are the first to raise their voices against the Jewish people and its state, who deny their Jewishness by assimilation and intermarriage, doom themselves eventually not to be heard and accounted for in the continually unfolding Jewish story. 

Someone who does not wish to share in the burden of the Jewish nation as a whole cuts the cord of Jewishness that grants one identity, self-worth and an overall purpose in life. The selichot prayers are so constructed as to be a retelling of the Jewish story and a declaration of fealty to Jewish destiny. In that context the selichot prayer services connect us to our Creator but also to the Jewish people in every generation, both past and future. 

There are many emotions that accompany the advent of the selichot season. Memories of past High Holy Day seasons, of generations that have passed on, of previous synagogue services and other venues of prayer, of childhood wonderment and of more mature seriousness and awe. These all flood our minds and hearts when the prayers of selichot are recited and the melodies of holiness are heard and sung.  The special quality of this time of the year, of anticipation and tension, of hopeful confidence combined with trepidation, is refleced in our attention to the immortal words of the prayer services. 

Every possible human hope and emotion is to be found in those words. I always have felt that the preparation for Rosh Hashanah should include a review of the texts of the prayer services beforehand so that one can savor the majesty and genius that lies embedded in the legacy of our prayer services. The selichot prayers come to us from Babylonia and North Africa, the Land of Israel and Spain, France and Germany, and Central and Eastern Europe. They cover centuries of Jewish life and creativity, piety and scholarship. 

They also record for us dark days of persecutions and massacres, of trial and testing, and of hope and resilience. Their prose/poetic style may oftentimes be difficult to understand and decipher but their soul and message of genius is revealed and obvious to all those who recite their words with serious intent. May the selichot season usher in a renewed sense of holy purpose in our lives and may we all be blessed with a good and happy, healthy new year.

Torah and mitzvot -- nothing else will do! Ki Teitze 5785

Here is another piece left for us by Rabbi Wein ztz'l and which we are privileged to share.

Ki Teitzei contains the second most numerous count of mitzvot in the Torah, topped only by parashat Kedoshim in Chumash Vayikra. The commentators to the Torah discuss why these mitzvot that first appear in Ki Teitzei, all of which are ultimately derived from the granting of the Torah at Mount Sinai almost 40 years earlier, find their place in the Torah here in Moshe’s final oration to the Jewish people. Their approach to the issue differs.

Some say that since many of these mitzvot are related to war, settling the land, domesticated human life and the like, they reflect the impending life-altering change for the Jewish people as they shift from a miraculous existence in the desert to a more natural and normal lifestyle.  Soon they would be in their own land, facing all the changes and problems that such a radical shift of circumstances implies. Others merely say that this is an example of the Talmudic dictum that the Torah is not bound in its teachings and text to any narrative timeline; there is no chronological order to the Torah. Even though these mitzvot appear in writing here for the first time, they were essentially already taught to the Jewish people in the desert long before by Moshe. Other explanations can be found; all are valid and they are not mutually exclusive. 

If I may be bold enough to add my insight to this matter, I would say this: the Jewish people are about to become a nation and to establish their own government in the Land of Israel. They will have to fight many battles, bloody and painful, to establish their right to the Land of Israel and to establish their sovereignty over the territory that it encompasses. They will need an army, a civil government, a judicial system, an economy and labor force and all the other trappings that accompany nation building and establishing a territorial entity and effective government.

In the face of these demands they might think that they can discard the spiritual yoke of the mitzvot imposed upon them at Sinai. It would be easy to say that mitzvot were all very well in the Sinai desert, where no other demands were made on our time, energy and commitment. But with more pressing business at hand, perhaps the punctilious observance of mitzvot was no longer required. 

Moshe comes in this parsha, in the midst of his valedictory oration to the Jewish people, to remind them that mitzvot and Torah are the only effective guarantee of Jewish success and survival, even while they are engaged in building and defending Jewish sovereignty in the Land of Israel. Moshe in effect says to them: “Here are some more mitzvot—and they will help you succeed in building the land and preserving your sovereignty over it.” Moshe’s message is as germane to our time as it was to the first Jews who arrived en masse to settle in the Land of Israel thirty-three centuries ago. 

Two paths, one destination

Jeremy Phillips writes:

I have had the rare good fortune to work both with Rabbi Berel Wein ztz’l and Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks ztz’l—two rabbis whose Jewish roots—and the routes they took—could scarcely have been more different.

Rabbi Wein was raised and schooled within a long and distinguished tradition of Lithuanian Torah scholarship; Rabbi Sacks came from an unlearned family of merchants. Rabbi Wein was par excellence a Torah scholar whose natural habitat was the yeshiva and the beit midrash; Rabbi Sacks’ preferred milieu was the synagogue pulpit and the university lecture hall. Rabbi Wein was a rabbi first and only secondly a historian; Rabbi Sacks was a first a philosopher, but a philosopher with semicha.

Within the vast field of Jewish learning, Rabbi Wein was for the Talmud and poskim; Rabbi Sacks’ comfort zone was that of Tanach and midrash. Rabbi Wein cautioned powerfully against the embrace of popular and secular culture and warned of its corrosive effect on living a life of Torah; Rabbi Sacks admired and absorbed much secular culture and sought to use it to understand and strengthen his Torah. Rabbi Wein’s messages were often blunt, sometimes brutal in their force—though delivered with a note of paternal kindness. Rabbi Sacks’ words were carefully crafted orations, aesthetic and elegant—but shocking when delivered with unexpected passion. Rabbi Wein was a man of mitzvot; he gave halachic rulings with the wisdom and confidence of a man backed by deep knowledge and siata dishmaya; Rabbi Sacks was a man of impeccable middot, shrinking from giving halachic rulings and always deferring on matters of halacha to the dayanim of the Beit Din of which he was the titular head,

These two giants of the contemporary Torah scene, who have both been taken from us in the very recent past, were so different in every respect that it seems astonishing that they held each other in such high regard, indeed affection. Those of us who were there will recall Rabbi Sacks’ warm words in his congratulatory message to Rabbi Wein when the latter celebrated 20 years at the helm of Beit Knesset Hanassi, as well as Rabbi Wein’s moving words on his shul’s event to mark the first yahrzeit of Rabbi Sacks. Can anyone doubt that these two men held each other in the highest regard? Why might this be?

If we distil the messages of the two rabbis, we find that they are so similar as to be virtually identical. Both cared passionately about Jewish demographics, writing and speaking on this subject with power and passion. Both were desperately unhappy about the rising tide of ignorance, indifference and assimilation, and both cried out for their audiences to seize the moment to address the problem full-on.  Rabbi Sacks shocked his English constituents when he published ‘Will We Have Jewish Grandchildren?’ and the final plea of Rabbi Wein in his last book launch at Hanassi, shortly before his death, was for the audience to place a copy of his book on antisemitism before every one of their grandchildren.

It was not just the messages but also the means of disseminating them that marked these two luminaries out. Both recognized the power of the media and the emerging technologies to bring their words before audiences who might never otherwise encounter them. To this end Rabbi Wein established the Destiny Foundation, harnessing sound and video recordings and embracing YouTube and Zoom. Similarly, Rabbi Sacks' works, thoughts and ideas are promulgated through The Rabbi Sacks Legacy. Thus the life's work of Rabbis Wein and Sacks lives on.

That these two men, so different in so many respects, should have identified the same issues as crucial and fought for them with every fibre of their being, is something in which I take great comfort. I am sure that, should their paths cross in a better world than this, they will celebrate not their differences but the convergence of their love for the People of Israel and their prayer for its growth and continued success.

Leave it to Heaven: Shofetim 5785

Though Rabbi Wein ztz'l may no longer be with us, we continue to benefit from his words of wisdom. All the divrei Torah that we post between now and Simchat Torah were sent to us for publication by the Destiny Foundation before he died. We are grateful for the opportunity to reproduce them here.

Everyone favors equality and justice, and the goal of all democratic societies is to have, as far as humanly possible, a fair and incorruptible judicial system. But judges are only human—no matter how knowledgeable and altruistic they may be—which is why the perfect judicial system has yet to be achieved. 

To sustain a viable society, we are bidden to obey the decisions of the court. As the Talmud points out, "even if they proclaim to you that left is right and right is left, you have to listen to them”. Judicial error is a fact of life in a world where we know that left is never right and right is never left. So, how are judicial errors ever to be corrected? 

The answer usually comes with the passage of time and with the application of common sense to the realities of life. There is a famous saying that “what wisdom cannot accomplish, time will." Heaven, so to speak, takes a hand over time in adjusting erroneous judicial decisions and somehow making things come out right in the end. 

The Torah emphasizes that, even though judicial error is possible if not even probable, we must follow the decisions of our judges if anarchy is not to reign and society to dissolve. Judicial decisions may be analyzed and even disagreed with, but we must respect our judges and comply with their judgments, ultimate justice being left to the province of Heavenly guidance. 

Jewish tradition ascribes judicial decisions not merely to book knowledge or even precedent, but also to a sensible appraisal of fairness and equity. The great Rabbi Israel Lipkin of Salant often pointed out that Heaven alone can take into account all of the facts, consequences and results of judgment, reward and punishment. The human judge is limited in perspective and foresight. 

We know how the law of unintended consequences can dog every law  and legal decision—and that is why the Talmud ruefully depicts God, so to speak, busily undoing many of the decisions and actions of leaders and ordinary people in order to achieve the Divine will and purpose through the actions and decisions of humans. 

All judicial systems contain a process of review and appeal from decisions made by lower courts. This is an inherent realization the judicial error is ever-present and likely in all human affairs—and this is why the phrase “trial and error” is so well known in the English language. Despite its efforts to correct itself, the judicial system is always subject to bias, preconceived notions and erroneous logic and decisions. Even so, the Torah emphasizes that judicial systems are mandatory if society is to function. It is one of the basic seven laws of Noachide tradition. So, as in every other facet of life, the Torah bids us to do the best that we can—but to remain aware of our human limitations. 

“Law, Order, Justice—and an Open Mind”, Rabbi Wein’s essay on Parashat Shofetim last year, can be accessed here.

Rabbi Wein, America and Aliyah

Here’s the text of a piece by our member Rabbi Paul Bloom, which will appear in this week’s Jewish Link. Thanks, Paul, for giving us a chance to enjoy it. Paul explains:

I had the distinct privilege of being a member of Rabbi Wein’s shul, Beit Knesset Hanassi, for over twenty years, and of deepening my connection to him and his Torah since making Aliyah with my wife four years ago. While he was not a Navi, he was perhaps the closest we had — through his masterful analysis of Nevi’im, Jewish history, and world events. I have read many of the appreciations written by his friends, students, and colleagues, and I agree with them all. Yet, what I feel was not emphasized enough was not only his love for Eretz Yisrael, Medinat Yisrael, and Bnei Yisrael — which many have already noted — but also his penetrating analysis of the state of American Jewry and the urgency of planning to make Aliyah.

I was privileged to hear a discussion that Rabbi Wein gave about five years ago, in which he spoke candidly about the trajectory of America and the pressing need to consider Aliyah. What follows is a summary of that conversation.

For those who wish to hear it in full, it can be found here (duration: 23 minutes 50 seconds).

Here a summary of Rabbi Berel Wein ztz’l said.

History does not move in circles — it moves in patterns. Anyone who wishes to know what tomorrow holds need only look at yesterday. The story of the Jewish people has been written in every exile: communities flourish, assimilate, decline, and ultimately close down. This has happened across Europe, North Africa, and the Arab lands. It is happening, slowly but surely, in America as well.

American Jewry once prided itself on size and vitality. In 1950, there were six million Jews in the United States. Today, the numbers are smaller, despite population growth. Assimilation and intermarriage have eroded Jewish continuity, and even the Orthodox community faces new external pressures that will make life in America increasingly difficult. The truth is that there are likely fewer committed Jews in America today than there were 70 years ago.

This is not just about demographics. Great civilizations collapse not from outside threats but from within. Greece, Rome, the Soviet Union — all disintegrated because of internal corruption and the acceptance of values that undermined their own foundations. America is showing similar signs. Once a country proud of religion and family, it now elevates values that run directly against Torah. As the Navi warns: "הוי הגוי חוטא, עם כבד עון, זרע מרעים, בנים משחיתים" (“Woe to the sinful nation, a people laden with iniquity, children who deal corruptly” – Yeshayahu 1:4). Societies built on such moral decline do not endure.

I am not a pessimist, but I am a realist. The curve of American Jewish life has flattened. The freedoms our parents enjoyed will not last. Governments will dictate how our schools operate, whether we can separate boys and girls, what we are allowed to teach. Orthodox Jews in America will face restrictions they never imagined possible.

What then is the response? The Torah has already provided the answer: the Land of Israel. "כי רצו עבדיך את אבניה ואת עפרה יחננו" (“For Your servants have cherished her stones and favored her dust” – Tehillim 102:15). Our love for the Land is not theoretical — it must express itself in practical attachment. It is not easy to move, nor is it simple to succeed. I know from personal experience how much sacrifice Aliyah requires — my wife and I planned for forty years, scrimping and saving to buy an apartment in Jerusalem. But the effort was worth it. In Israel, Jewish life is not a side project; it is the air you breathe. Shabbat is felt in the streets, even among the secular. Every struggle here is balanced by the simple truth that this is where Jewish life belongs.

To those who ask whether it is realistic — yes, it is. Professional skills are transferable. Opportunities abound. Israel needs families with talent, resources, and vision. The adjustment can be difficult, especially for teenagers, but history demands that we see the larger picture. If you come with modest expectations, every success is a blessing; if you expect perfection, disappointment will follow.

Some argue that leaving America weakens Jewish outreach there. My response is simple: no one is indispensable. As Chazal teach: "אין הקדוש ברוך הוא מקפח שכר כל בריה" (“The Holy One, Blessed be He, does not withhold reward from any creature” – Bava Kamma 38b). Others will rise to the task. But the Jewish future cannot be built on prolonging exile. It must be built where it has always been destined to flourish — in the Land of Israel.

A Call to My Students and Colleagues

 My dear friends, history is speaking to us with a clear and uncompromising voice. Every exile ends — some slowly, some suddenly, but all inevitably. America has given us much, but it is no longer the safe, welcoming haven it once seemed. The warning lights are flashing, and to ignore them is to gamble recklessly with the Jewish future. 

Do not delude yourselves into thinking, “שָׁלוֹם יִהְיֶה לִי, כִּי בִּשְׁרִרוּת לִבִּי אֵלֵךְ” (“Peace will be mine, though I follow the desires of my own heart” – Devarim 29:18). That is exactly what Jews said in Berlin, in Warsaw, in Baghdad — in countless communities that flourished and then vanished. We cannot afford to repeat their error. 

The time has come for action. Invest in Israel, plant roots in Israel, live your Jewish life in Israel. Lower your expectations of comfort, raise your expectations of holiness, and you will discover that the sacrifices are small compared to the privilege of shaping Jewish destiny in the Land of our fathers. 

To my students, to my colleagues, to all who hear these words: the window of opportunity is open, but it will not remain open forever. Do not wait for it to close. Jewish history has brought us to this decisive moment. “כִּי מִצִּיּוֹן תֵּצֵא תוֹרָה וּדְבַר ה' מִירוּשָׁלָ͏ִם” (“For from Zion shall go forth Torah, and the word of Hashem from Jerusalem” – Yeshayahu 2:3). The future of our people will not be written in exile. It will be written in the Land of Israel. The only question is: will we be part of it?