Showing posts with label Vision of the future. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vision of the future. Show all posts

Wednesday, 21 October 2026

Beyond the Limits of the Present: Lech Lecha 5787

 This devar Torah by Rabbi Joel Kenigsberg is published in this week's Hanassi Highlights. You can also read it in Hebrew, thanks to ChatGPT, here.

It can be a great challenge in life to see beyond our immediate circumstances. So much of our attention is naturally focused on the present: the challenges we face, the uncertainties that surround us, and the realities that seem impossible to change. Yet sometimes a different perspective can transform the way we understand both our present and our future.

In Parshat Lech Lecha, Hashem promises Avraham that his descendants will be as numerous as the stars: “He took him outside and said: Look towards the heavens and count the stars… So shall your offspring be” (Bereishit 15:5). Why does the Torah emphasise that Hashem took Avraham outside? Surely it would have been sufficient to tell him to look at the stars.

 Rashi offers two explanations. On a literal level, Hashem brought Avraham outside to look up at the stars. But Rashi also cites the Midrash: Tzei me’itztagninut shelcha – “Go beyond your astrology.” Avraham is being shown that his future, and that of his descendants, is not bound by the ordinary limitations of nature.

 Perhaps there is an additional dimension to this message. When Hashem takes Avraham outside, He is not merely directing his gaze towards the heavens. He is inviting him to contemplate a vision far beyond the immediate present: generations yet to be born, a nation yet to emerge, and a Divine promise that will unfold over thousands of years. The stars represent more than countless descendants. They offer a glimpse of a future whose full significance cannot yet be imagined.

 Hashem is inviting Avraham to see not only what is, but what can be. And perhaps this is a lesson for us as well. We live in a time when the events of each day can consume our attention. Every crisis, disagreement and uncertainty can seem overwhelming. Yet the story of the Jewish people is not defined by any single moment in history.

 We are the descendants of Avraham Avinu, heirs to a covenant that has endured through generations of exile, persecution and renewal. Today, we have the extraordinary privilege of witnessing the return of our people to our ancestral homeland and the rebuilding of Jewish life in Jerusalem.

 These are developments that countless generations could scarcely have imagined, yet they are part of the unfolding promise first given to Avraham beneath the stars.

At times, we too need to lift our eyes beyond the immediate horizon, to appreciate how far we have come, and to recognise the possibilities that still lie ahead.

The story that began with Avraham is not merely a story of our past. It is a story that continues to unfold, and one that we have both the privilege and responsibility to help shape.

 Shabbat Shalom!

You can also read Rabbi Kenigsberg's piece for Lech Lecha last year, "A Matter of Mindsets". by clicking here.


Thursday, 19 February 2026

Planting the Future: Parshat Terumah 5786

This piece was first published in Hanassi Highlights, 19 February 2026. An Ivrit translation, via AI, can be found here.

Parshat Terumah opens with an extensive list of materials required for the construction of the Mishkan: gold, silver, copper, wool, skins—and wood. The Torah instructs that “atzei shitim”—acacia wood—should be used for the beams that would form the Mishkan’s structure. One of the classic questions raised by the commentators is simple yet striking: where did this wood come from? Bnei Yisrael had just left Egypt and were traveling through the wilderness. Forests were hardly abundant. How did they obtain the materials needed to build the sanctuary?

Rashi, quoting the Midrash Tanchuma, offers a remarkable answer. Yaakov Avinu, when he descended to Egypt generations earlier, planted cedar trees there. He foresaw, through ruach hakodesh, that his descendants would one day build a Mishkan in the wilderness, and he ensured they would have the necessary materials. According to another Midrashic tradition, these trees were first planted by Avraham in Be’er Sheva and later transported by Yaakov to Egypt, carefully preserved for this very purpose.

When Yaakov arrived in Egypt, he knew his family was entering exile. Egypt offered stability and prosperity—but it was not home. Yaakov emphasized this explicitly at the end of his life, insisting his descendants take an oath not to bury him in Egypt. He wanted them to understand that their presence there was temporary. The trees he planted gave concrete expression to that message. They stood as a quiet but constant reminder that redemption would come, that Egypt was only a chapter in a much larger story.

But the trees served another purpose as well. When Bnei Yisrael later built the Mishkan, they were not using anonymous materials gathered along the way. They were using beams planted generations earlier by their forefathers. Every plank carried memory. Every beam testified that this moment had been anticipated long before. The Mishkan was not only a response to the present—it was the fulfillment of a vision planted in the past.

Yaakov Avinu did not leave his descendants only a promise of redemption. He left them its raw materials. He ensured that when the moment came, they would not only remember their destiny—they would be able to build it.

We, too, are the beneficiaries of foundations laid by earlier generations, and we are entrusted with the responsibility to continue building. Living in Jerusalem, seeing Jewish life flourish once again in our ancestral home, reminds us that we are part of a story far larger than ourselves. Like Yaakov Avinu, we plant seeds whose full impact we may never see—but which ensure that the future of our people will stand strong and endure.

Shabbat Shalom!

Thursday, 23 January 2025

Do we see the Vision?

We are again delighted to host a perceptive and provocative devar Torah on the week's parsha from Rabbi Paul Bloom. Thanks, Paul, for all your efforts--and for remembering us.

This devar Torah discusses an often-overlooked element of the Pesach Seder—the fifth cup of wine—and the profound lessons it holds for our lives. Our Sages teach us that the four cups of wine correspond to the four “expressions of redemption” found in Sefer Shemot (Exodus):

'לָכֵן אֱמֹר לְבָנֵי־ישְׂרָאֵל אֲנִי ה וְהוֹצֵאתִי אֶתְכֶם מִתַּחַת סַבְלת מִצְרִים וְהַצַלְתִּי אֶתְכֶם מַעֲבֹדָתָם וְגאַלְתִּי אֶתְכֶם בַּזְרוֹע נְטוּיָה וּבַשְׁפָטִים גדלים וְלָקַחְתִּי אֶתְכֶם לִי לְעָם וְהָייתי לָכֶם לָאלֹהִים וְיִדַעְתָּם כִּי אֲנִי ה' אֱלֹהֵיכֶם הַמוֹצִיא אֶתְכֶם מִתָּחַת סְבְלוֹת מִצְרִים

  1. “I will take you out from under the burdens of Egypt,”
  2. “I will save you from their bondage,”
  3. “I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and great judgments,”
  4. “I will take you to Me as a people, and I will be your God.”

These four stages mark a transformative process—from physical liberation to spiritual redemption. Yet our tradition also alludes to a fifth expression, a culmination of the journey: entering the Promised Land and achieving our full potential as Hashem’s nation.

וְהֵבֵאתִ֤י אֶתְכֶם֙ אֶל־הָאָ֔רֶץ אֲשֶׁ֤ר נָשָׂ֙אתִי֙ אֶת־יָדִ֔י לָתֵ֣ת אֹתָ֔הּ לְאַבְרָהָ֥ם לְיִצְחָ֖ק וּֽלְיַעֲקֹ֑ב וְנָתַתִּ֨י אֹתָ֥הּ לָכֶ֛ם מוֹרָשָׁ֖ה אֲנִ֥י יְהֹוָֽה׃

I will bring you into the land which I swore to give to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and I will give it to you for a possession, I Hashem.”

וַיְדַבֵּ֥ר מֹשֶׁ֛ה כֵּ֖ן אֶל־בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֑ל וְלֹ֤א שָֽׁמְעוּ֙ אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֔ה מִקֹּ֣צֶר ר֔וּחַ וּמֵעֲבֹדָ֖ה קָשָֽׁה׃

But when Moses told this to the Israelites, they would not listen to Moses, their spirits crushed by cruel bondage.

The question that the Commentators ask is what does, מִקֹּ֣צֶר ר֔וּחַ, shortness of spirit mean? The Ramban teaches that their inability to listen was not due to a lack of faith. They believed, but they were utterly exhausted—physically and spiritually crushed under the weight of slavery. The Midrash takes this further, explaining that Bnei Yisrael were so immersed in the culture of Mitzrayim—its paganism, its worldview—that they couldn’t comprehend the magnitude of Moshe’s message.

This is not just an ancient story; it’s a mirror for our lives today. Just as Bnei Yisrael struggled to reframe their identity and rise above their circumstances, we too often find ourselves trapped in modern forms of galut. Immersed in the distractions of secularism, materialism, and the relentless demands of daily life, we can lose sight of the spiritual messages calling to us.

A Wake-Up Call: The Ten Plagues

The ten plagues were not merely punishments for Egypt; they were a shock to awaken Bnei Yisrael. Each plague shattered illusions of Egypt’s supremacy, revealing Hashem’s power and presence. This was a necessary process to free not only their bodies but also their minds and souls from the “shortness of spirit” that clouded their vision. We, too, need moments that pull us out of the relentless cycle of work and worry. Without these interruptions, we risk losing perspective, becoming so consumed by immediate concerns that we neglect what truly matters.

Stephen Covey, in his famous book The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People, illustrates this with the metaphor of sharpening the saw. A man sawing tirelessly through a tree is told to pause and sharpen his saw, to which he replies, “I’m too busy sawing to stop.” This captures a profound truth: relentless activity without reflection leads to burnout and inefficiency.

Shabbat is one of our antidotes to this “shortness of spirit.” It is the time we step off the treadmill, reconnect with our inner selves, our families, and our Creator. On Shabbat, we pause to hear the voices of our loved ones, to study Torah, and to reflect on our purpose. It is in these moments of stillness that we regain clarity and strength.

The Fifth Expression: Choice and Destiny

The Sforno and Or HaChaim offer a fascinating insight into the fifth expression of redemption. They note that the first four stages of geulah were gifts from Hashem—unconditional and imposed upon Bnei Yisrael, primarily because B'nai Israel did not want to leave Egypt. The fifth stage, however, required their active choice. Entering the Promised Land, building a holy nation, and living with emunah were predicated on their willingness to rise to the challenge. And in fact, mo-one (except Joshua and Calev) who was over the age of 20 at the time they left Egypt ever entered Israel because of the Sin of the Spies.

This duality—between the gifts we are given and the choices we make—is central to our lives. Hashem bestows upon us countless blessings: our families, talents, and opportunities. But how we use these gifts—whether we dedicate them to a higher purpose or squander them—is up to us.

Lessons for Today

The story of Bnei Yisrael’s redemption is not just a historical narrative; it is a timeless message about human nature. Like our ancestors, we often become so overwhelmed by the “urgent”—the daily demands and challenges—that we lose sight of the “important.” If you ask a struggling businessman about his five-year vision, he might respond, “I’m just trying to get through this week!” This mindset is natural, but it is also limiting. True growth requires stepping back, refocusing, and embracing the larger vision.

Do the Jews of the Diaspora face similar challenges to those of Bnei Yisrael in Egypt? Are they caught up in the urgent while ignoring the important? Have they grown too comfortable with the materialism of the Diaspora, losing sight of Hashem’s vision for kibbutz galuyot (the ingathering of exiles) and returning to Israel? Will the miracles of the past 15 months serve as a wake-up call?

The fifth cup reminds us that, while Hashem provides the foundation, it is up to us to build upon it. It challenges us to differentiate between the wheat and the chaff, the urgent and the important, and to align our lives with the divine vision.

A Blessing

As we reflect on this parsha, may we find the strength to rise above the distractions and burdens that weigh us down. May we pause to sharpen the saw, to listen to the voices of Torah and those around us, and to embrace our role as Hashem’s partners in building a better world. Let us see the vision Hashem has given us and follow it with clarity and purpose.

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